Aetius sighed. “Your mother loves you very much. As I do. But Julia isn’t always—sensible.” His grip on her hands softened. “Listen, Regina. You just can’t behave this way. Life won’t be the same when you grow up. I don’t know how things will be—but for sure they will be different. And Julia doesn’t always understand that, I don’t think. And so she doesn’t teach you.”

“Are you talking about Constantius?”

“That buffoon, among other things, yes—”

“Nobody tells me anything. I don’t know what you mean. Anyway I don’t care. I don’t want things to be different.”

“What we want makes very little difference in this world, child,” he said levelly. “Now, as to Carta. You must remember she is a person. A slave, yes, but a person. Did you know she has the name of a queen? Yes, the name of a queen of the Brigantes, a queen who may have confronted the Emperor Claudius himself.” The Brigantes were a tribe of the old days, as Regina had been taught, and it had been Claudius who had brought Britain into the Empire, long, long ago. “But now,” said Aetius, “that family of royalty is so poor it has had to sell its children into slavery.”

“My parents bought Carta for me.”

“Yes, they did. But Carta is still the daughter of a princess. And you’re lucky to have a slave attendant at all. Once there were slaves for everything. You would have a slave to call out the time for you—a human hourglass! But now, only your mother, and a few others, believe they can afford slaves. Anyhow you mustn’t hurt Carta.”

“But I didn’t.”

“And yet she is ill.”

Regina thought back and remembered how pale Carta had looked during Julia’s dressing. “But she was ill before the party. I saw her. Go ask her what’s wrong.”

“She was?” Still doubtful, Aetius released her hands. “All right. If you are lying, you know about it in your heart . . . Oh.” His eyes widened, his huge head tilted back, and he looked up into the sky.

Startled, she looked up, too. It took her a moment to spot the light in the sky. It was right in the middle of the great band of stars—a new star, brighter than any of the others, flickering like a guttering candle. People drifted out of the villa, drink and food in their hands, and their chatter faded as they gazed up at the strange light, their faces shining like coins in the last of the twilight.

Despite the warmth of the evening, Regina suddenly felt cold. “Grandfather, what does it mean?”

“Perhaps nothing, child.” He folded her in his arms, and she pressed her slim warmth against his strength. She heard him mutter, “But it is a powerful omen, powerful.”