“No,” he said. “I don’t care who wins what race, or even who’s Emperor. But when I teach anyone to do something, they’ll learn to do it right.”

Diana knew she’d regret it, but found herself wandering to the faction yard for the Blues. Plenty of swagger there—the grooms were already half drunk as they passed the harness back and forth, and the famous blood bays were tossing their heads in excitement. Derricus stood impatiently, already wearing his leather breastplate and striped blue cloak pinned to the shoulders with gold horse-head pins.

“Yes, yes.” He was barely listening as the faction director gave him his instructions. “I won’t tire them out. Why bother?”

He dropped his blue-plumed helmet and caught sight of Diana as he leaned forward to pick it up. In this yard full of blue, she was conspicuous in her red silks. “Lady Diana!” he grinned. “Come to wish me luck?”

“You don’t need it,” she said coldly. “Not to win a race like this one.”

“Don’t be sharp, Lady. Let’s have a smile.”

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” she glared. “A charioteer of your stature, driving in fixed races?”

His smile disappeared. “Maybe I don’t like it much, Lady, but a win’s a win. A purse is a purse. And some of us do this for a living, not just dabbling in between banquets.”

If she stayed a moment longer she’d fly at him, so she stamped out of the Blues yard. She was shaking with too much fury to go up to the Emperor’s box yet, or she’d fly at Fabius Valens too. He’d recovered from his bout of food poisoning and was conducting Vitellius’s business in Rome, though he made noises about going north to take over the army now that there were so many rumors flying about a battle. Diana hoped he left soon and she hoped he died, but for today he was here, dragging Lollia with him. Everyone else would be there too: Marcella, Gaius and Tullia, even Cornelia, who hadn’t been to a public function in weeks. Diana couldn’t bear to face them, and she trailed back to the Reds yard to watch the Anemoi being harnessed.