“But they don’t have her connections.” He was too young to be sniffy about talking to a guard. “She’s great-niece to the Emperor, or maybe a distant cousin. Anyway, she’s the closest unmarried woman of his family. My grandfather says if I land her, it’ll be a sure boost to my career.”

He dropped his armload of flowers on a nearby table. A sprat of a boy, skinny as a bean, but he had a thin pleasant face and a rueful expression. He’d given me his name at the door, some impossibly long string, but all I remembered was Titus. “You’re young to be trying for a wife,” I couldn’t help observing.

“Wasn’t my idea, believe me. My grandfather’s ill, and he’s starting to want me settled.” Titus or whatever his name was fiddled with the flowers. “He said I might have a chance—Grandfather’s great friends with her father, so he’s already dropped a few hints for me.”

“Won’t do you any good,” I said. “She gets to pick her own husband.”

“Well, I’m sunk.” He gestured down ruefully at his skinny frame. “Who’d pick me?”

“You never know. Come back when she’s returned from Baiae.”

“I will. Might as well practice this courtship business, even if I haven’t got a chance in the world. ‘No man by fearing reaches the top,’ as Syrus would say.” The boy picked up his armload of lilies and thrust them at me. “Give these to your girl instead.”

“Violets next time,” I advised. “Lady Sabina hates lilies.”

I liked him, Titus whatever-his-name-was, and if I’d known then just how many times we were going to save each other’s lives I’d have paid more attention when I first met him. Yount Titus aside, however, the rest of Sabina’s suitors seemed like a supercilious lot. That fawning worm Tribune Hadrian came calling, and the heavy brows aligned over his nose when I told him he’d made the trip for nothing. “When will Lady Vibia Sabina return?” he deigned to ask.

“Don’t know.” I hooked my thumbs into my belt. “You think she keeps me informed?”

“Ah—” His eyes swept me, recognition flaring. “The boy from the races. You were rude.”

“Still am,” I grinned.

Hadrian regarded me with cool displeasure. “You need a good beating, boy,” he said. “I’ll see you get one someday.”

“How will you manage that, sir?”

“I am resourceful.” He swept out with a flare of purple-bordered toga, and I made a rude gesture at the stiff retreating back.