“Want something in advance? Come with me.” She took his hand and led him back to the small shed where they kept the chariots. It was empty now—the chariots had already been rolled out—and Diana was already dragging his head down to kiss him before they reached the shadows inside. “Just close that door,” she breathed against his mouth as he started fumbling at her dress. He turned to bar it, and she picked up one of the heavy blocks they wedged under the chariot wheels to keep them from rolling and banged him over the head with it. Siculus went down like an ox on an altar; she banged him one more time to make sure he wouldn’t wake up for a while and then got to work. There wasn’t much time.

She stripped off his leather shin guards and buckled them around her own legs, kilting her red dress up to the knees. Another few moments dragging at the limp limbs and she had the leather breastplate off—too big for her but that was good; it would hide the shape of her breasts. She had her own gauntlets with her and pulled them on as she reached down for the red-plumed helmet. She crammed her hair under it, wishing the helmet hid more of her face, but it would have to do. Siculus was slim and lightly built, like most charioteers; the height difference wasn’t too bad. Anyone who took a close look would realize something was wrong, but she didn’t plan on giving anyone a close look.

“Where’s that bloody Siculus?” A groom’s voice came from outside, annoyed. “They’re rolling out!”

Diana waited as they looked for him. Waited.

“Drat it, the Greens and Whites just went—look in the yard.”

She came running out of the chariot shed at the last minute, dropping the bar on the door in case Siculus woke up, and dashed to where the grooms were waiting with the Anemoi. Her four winds, bright-eyed and flame-bright, eager to run with the light chariot behind them crowned by its flaming fire god. “Sorry,” she said as gruffly as possible, and vaulted up into the chariot.

“You’re late,” the groom said, handing her the red leather reins to knot around her waist. “You’ll be last, but—” He paused, and Diana pulled feverishly at the knots. If she could just get out to the track before he raised the alarm—

“Siculus,” the groom said finally. “You shrank.” He handed her the red-beaded driving whip. “Fortuna be with you.”

Diana was already urging her team forward, toward the track.