“He just laughs and says I hate eating mud now that his Blues are winning.” Diana folded her arms across her breasts, callused fingers drumming. “It’s not just bribes to keep the other factions losing. A charioteer for the Whites died last week—he dared beat the Blues, and Fabius had the Praetorians beat him to death. As an object lesson to the rest.”

“It won’t be forever,” Marcella said, amused.

“And what happens to my Anemoi in the meantime?” Diana whirled. “They don’t know who’s Emperor, or that they race for the wrong faction. They just want to win. You know what happens when you teach horses how to lose? Their hearts break.” She shook her head, furious. “And I tell you, I’m not putting up with it!”

“What are you going to do?” Marcella laughed, but all she saw was the whisk of Diana’s fair hair like a horse’s tail whipping around a corner as she stamped to the next booth. Marcella caught up, impulsively slipping her arm through her cousin’s.

“It’ll be better soon, you’ll see.” If Vespasian toppled Vitellius, surely no one would be bothering to fix chariot races anymore. “I promise.”

“Let’s hope,” Diana scowled, and they walked arm in arm back to Uncle Paris’s house, where Marcella marveled over the latest batch of carvings.

“Though why on earth does this bust of me have snakes for hair, Uncle Paris?”

He surveyed her with those cloudy blue-green eyes so like his daughter’s. “You tell me.”

“How should I know what’s going on in your head?” Marcella laughed.

“I wonder if anyone knows what’s going on in yours.”

Marcella laughed again and took herself home. There were a few discreet letters she could write, pushing one or two indecisive men in Vitellius’s entourage toward a change of heart . . .

Seventeen

Seventeen

PULL the Reds out of the races today.” Diana paced to the other end of the small faction office. “Xerxes, you have to!”

“I tried.” The Reds faction director flung down his stylus. “For a big day like today, we’ve all been ordered to run.”

“Then at least jog them at the back! Make it into a training run—”

“No, we’re to make a good show of it. Right till the end, when everyone leans on the reins and lets the Blues scamper off in front.” Xerxes shook his head, disgusted.

Diana nibbled her thumbnail. “I can’t watch them dump one more race.”

“Well, you’ll have to. We all have to.” Xerxes heaved his hard bulk out of the chair. “It’s a different world, Lady. We’ll do as we’re told.”

“Isn’t there one charioteer who would risk trying to win?” she burst out.