“Juno’s mercy, you’re safe!” Cornelia enveloped her in a violent hug as she alighted on the doorstep. Half the family was arrayed there, but her sister and cousins were at the forefront and Marcella fell into their comforting arms, wondering how she could ever have thought them exasperating. “We had slaves watching every gate in the city for you, ever since we heard the news—”

“You’re all right.” Lollia was beaming. “I wore down my knees at every temple in Rome—”

“Now you’re the crazy one in the family instead of me.” Diana flung an oddly bruised arm about Marcella’s waist. “Just do what I do, and smile whenever they lecture you. It drives them all mad.”

“Good to have you home,” Gaius said, smiling.

“Gaius, you aren’t condoning this, are you?” Tullia sniffed. “I hope you see the folly of your adventuring, Marcella. You could have been killed.”

“I’m sure you’re sorry I wasn’t,” said Marcella. “Then you could redo my room in that sickly pink you’ve pasted all over the rest of the house.”

“She’s very tired, dear,” Gaius whispered quickly in his wife’s ear. “Maybe crazed.”

There was a family dinner to celebrate Marcella’s return. Cornelia shared her couch, deflecting the family’s questions for her while Marcella ate, and Marcella could have cried in gratitude. She gave her sister’s hand a fierce squeeze under the cushions, and Cornelia squeezed back.

“So Salvius is alive?” Lollia asked. “I’m glad. He’s harmless enough, despite his knuckle cracking. Though this means another divorce for sure.” She sighed. “Grandfather is already looking for a Vitellian husband for me.”

“You know Vitellius is a Blues fan?” Diana wrinkled her nose. “Well, at least it means more races . . .”

“I’m sorry.” Marcella put down her goblet. “But I need to get outside—I need to walk. Can you cover for me?”

“Of course,” Cornelia said at once, and headed Tullia off with a complaint about the oysters. Lollia distracted Gaius by letting her dress fall off her shoulders, and Diana tossed Marcella her own cloak.

Marcella’s hands were shaking when she climbed into the litter, and despite the fine breeze in the spring twilight she closed the curtains. The slanting sun made rosy shadows through the pink silk, and she lay back on the cushions with the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes as the bearers rose beneath her. “The gardens,” Marcella said through her hands, “take me to the nearest gardens.” It was a long time before the tremors went away, before she lowered her hands from her face.

When she did, she was smiling.