“For good.” Lollia turned away, wiping her eyes. “I won’t have either of them in this cursed house.”

She wore her emeralds to the Domus Aurea that night, because the necklace covered the blue bruise on her throat. She walked into the vast triclinium on her husband’s arm, smile stretched wide for a hundred guests as the Emperor shouted a greeting and gestured them in with the crispy-feathered neck of a flamingo. She lay on the dining couch beside Fabius, laughed at his jokes, ate peacock breast and drank wine. Lollia did her duty.

For now, she thought, watching her husband over the rim of her goblet. Just you wait.

Fourteen

Fourteen

TELL him I’m out,” Cornelia pleaded. “Tell him I’m sick.”

“Nonsense.” Tullia dismissed that with a flick. “Perhaps you should change. The blue dress? No, there isn’t time. Pin that black thing in front with a brooch; show a little breast. Your new husband will want to see what he’s buying.”

“I can’t go down, I can’t—”

“Don’t be absurd. You’re lucky to be getting such a chance. It’s a great thing for our family.” After yanking Cornelia’s neckline downward, Tullia rummaged in the jewel chest for a pair of gold-and-ebony earrings, and twisted them into Cornelia’s ears. Piso gave me those earrings , she thought with a wrench in her stomach, and now they’re making me pretty for a new husband.

“Gaius is waiting to give his official consent, so just give the slave a signal,” Tullia ordered. “I imagine there will be a betrothal feast for you and your husband—”

Cornelia felt her head whirling. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” Tullia’s little varnished fingernails dug painfully as she seized Cornelia’s arm. “It’s your duty. You will not disappoint me. Living in my house, eating my food—”

“Did I have a choice? My house was confiscated!”

“—you owe it to me to make a good marriage!” Tullia took her arm, towed her from the bedchamber and down the stairs. At the foot of the steps, Gaius shuffled nervously from foot to foot as Tullia yanked his sister past.

“Gaius—” Cornelia wrenched her arm out of Tullia’s grip, turning to her brother. They had never been close growing up, but surely—“I’m your sister, Gaius. Please—”

But Gaius just gave her a guilty smile as Tullia grabbed her by the wrist again and towed her past. “Pinch your cheeks,” Tullia told her. “You’re pale as a corpse. Go out to the garden, they’re waiting by the fountain.”

“Tullia, I will not—”

Cornelia rocked back as her sister-in-law’s ringed hand flashed out and slapped her, first one cheek and then the other, so hard tears sprang to her eyes. “At least that gives you some color,” Tullia said, and shoved Cornelia out toward the garden. “Now smile!”