“I’ve got a seat,” I said promptly.

“How kind.” She tucked her hand into my elbow. She was little, hardly up to my shoulder, but people moved out of her way. That patrician thing again.

“So, you follow the Reds?” I noted a red pennant in her other hand.

“All my family does. Aunt Diana’s mad for the Reds; she’d disown us if we rooted for anyone else.” Sabina took the seat I offered, tilting her head up. “There isn’t room for you.”

“Yes, there is. Get lost,” I told the man on her other side, and added a glare. He got lost, I got the seat, and for a bonus I got a smile from the senator’s daughter. Maybe my day was looking up. “Why are you ducking a suitor?” I asked, leaning back on one elbow.

“He thinks he’s leading the pack, so he’s trying to drive off the others.”

“You have a pack?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “I don’t have my mother’s looks, but I do have her money.”

“Don’t know about the looks,” I said, but she brushed my compliments aside.

“The Emperor’s come.” She pointed up at the foremost box, where a flood of royals had just entered. I didn’t have to guess which one was the Emperor—the short soldier’s haircut, the purple cloak, and the beaming face said it all. Emperor Marcus Ulpius Trajan raised his fist, and the crowds exploded.

The aristocrats in their languid poses, the equites in their self-conscious clusters, the plebeians in their masses all surged to their feet and cheered. The charioteers and stable boys paused in their darting over the arena sand, the horses waiting for entry seemed to toss their heads in salute, and I found my palms stinging and realized I was shouting and clapping with everyone else.

But Sabina wasn’t. She sat looking over the crowd, thoughtful. “They always do that,” she said as I took my seat again beside her. “Every time Trajan comes out. He goes all over the city without guards, and no one harms him.”

I watched the Emperor fling himself down in his golden chair, raking a hand through his hair and roaring with laughter. A long ways different from the Emperor I last remembered sitting in that box. “Long as Trajan doesn’t give black parties or make people call him Lord and God, I’ll find him an improvement.”

“Sshh, they’re starting.” The roars mounted through the tiered seats as the first of the chariots appeared, a quartet of blacks with green plumes dancing over their heads. Two more teams for the Greens, then a team for the Blues. Sabina hissed as they went by in a flash of blue wheels, and I laughed.

“The Blues are utterly fucking evil,” she explained, bland. “Or so I’ve been told since a very young age.”