Page 97 of Vesuvius

Aurelia rested her chin on his shoulder and slipped into a quiet ramble, filling him in on all he’d missed in the city since yesterday. Much, from the sound of it: a fight breaking out in a council meeting, Nonna tripping over a loose brick and hurting her hip, another well gone dry. Seemed Aurelia had eyes and ears all over Pompeii.

‘I haven’t seen Celsi since our marble game,’ she said as they turned onto a street of houses. ‘Do you think he’s upset with me?’

Felix hadn’t thought about him in days, but Aurelia’s concern stirred a memory from the festival, of Celsi being dragged away by a man who looked to be his father. No one had intervened, not Camilia, not Felix. He’d watched and done nothing and that still sat out of place in his gut.

‘I bet he’s busy.’ Felix kept his tone light, forcing back a surge of shame.

‘I suppose,’ Aurelia replied, but she didn’t sound convinced.

At an intersection not far from his destination, Felix elbowed Aurelia until she slid from his back. She glanced around, eyes narrowed, at the new bricks, the even cobblestones, the freshly painted exteriors.

‘This is where the rich tourists stay,’ she said. ‘What’s your business here?’

‘I told you. I have an errand.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

‘You can’t,’ Felix said. Aurelia hit him with a scowl. He understood the frustration of being told no without an adequate explanation, but his task was for him alone. ‘Aurelia, I’m going to fix this. You, Loren, your mother. I’ll get you out of the city, but you must promise to do exactly as I say, and neither can find out what I’m about to do. Understand?’

She wavered, softening a fraction. ‘For Loren?’

‘For you, too.’ He pushed at her. ‘Go home. I’ll find you later.’

With one last calculating look, Aurelia took off. Felix watched until she rounded the corner and her curls disappeared. Some new brand of resolve settled on his shoulders in her place.

For the third time, though he doubted that number would bring him luck any more than his name had lately, Felix entered the house of Senator Servius.

The building was as void of life as Julia’s estate, but the telltale sound of a stylus scratching drew Felix to the study. The door stood ajar. Servius hunched over his writing table, dressed immaculately as ever, gloves tight and hawk crest fixed, despite the early hour. Even at the sound of Felix’s footsteps nearing the desk, Servius didn’t budge from his work.

‘Awfully quick,’ Servius said. ‘Umbrius must have made it easy.’

Felix waited. He pinpointed the precise moment Servius realised it wasn’t Darius standing before him. His hand stilled. Bland eyes flicked up. Amusement tugged his mouth.

Servius propped his stylus in its holder, still dripping ink. ‘You thieves keep me on my toes, don’t you? Forgive my mention of Umbrius.’

‘Don’t care,’ Felix said. ‘I don’t get involved in politics.’

‘And yet.’

Gods, Servius and Julia were cut from the same cloth. It rankled Felix no end, these petty disputes of the rich. The issues patricians and politicians fought over never mattered. Ultimately, they were each on their own self-serving side, with far more in common than either would admit. What a waste of breath. To Loren’s credit, he at least attempted to argue issues that regular folks cared about. Things that made a difference, however slight.

This was all distraction. He willed his focus back to the details that mattered, shut out what didn’t. Now or never. He didn’t want to give it up, this one thing that proved he was worth more than the flesh on his back, the only power he’d ever held. But he remembered starry kisses. A pinch at the corner of a familiar mouth. Those details mattered.

From the laundry bag, he withdrew Mercury’s helmet and slammed it on Servius’s desk.

Servius’s gloved hands rose, and he jerked back a fraction. But his surprise quickly smoothed over, as though he’d suspected this might happen all along. Bastard. He relaxed in his seat, a satisfied sprawl. ‘You decided you want the horse after all.’

‘No,’ corrected Felix. ‘I want two.’

A smile spread. ‘An expensive demand for a helmet I can’t touch. Surely we can find more favourable terms.’

Familiar tightness in Felix’s ribs screamed at him to flee. Staying would carry the heaviest consequences he had ever faced. He knewwhat came next, and it boiled down to an impossible choice – one he shouldn’t hesitate to make. Flee, or lose. Flee, or be used. The last thing his father said to him wasrun. Felix hadn’t looked back since.

But his rules stopped mattering days ago, the same instant a bowl crashed over his head.

Gods, if only his da’ could see him now.

Felix inhaled a final breath on his own terms, then dragged a chair to the bargaining table.

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