I munched on the cakes, lying back on my bed and getting honey in my blankets, and watched the moon rise in the window slit. I saw the litters come one by one to take the noble guests away, saw the other guards go through the gardens dousing the lamps, heard the cook grumbling about her blisters as she swabbed down the kitchens for the night. I heard Lady Calpurnia fuming good-naturedly in the atrium, “You would not believe what the Empress said to me!” and Marcus Norbanus’s soft laughter as he led her upstairs. Slowly, the house went to bed. She won’t come tonight, I thought, but an hour or so later a shadow slipped into my room, carrying a pair of silver sandals in hand.

“My feet hurt,” said Sabina. “I hate these shoes.”

“Don’t wear ’em.”

“But they’re pretty, aren’t they?”

I sat up. “Did you arrange that?”

“What?”

“You know what. The fight.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Why?”

“I thought the Emperor might like you.”

I thought of Empress Plotina and her barbed warnings. “His wife doesn’t like me.”

“Plotina?” Sabina chuckled. “I expect not. She doesn’t seem to like anybody. Especially if they’re having a good time.”

“How’d Emperor Trajan end up with a wife like that?” I couldn’t help asking. “It’d be like bedding a marble statue.”

“Where do beds come into it?” Sabina looked surprised. “She manages his household and gives him sensible advice; he runs the Empire and sleeps with strapping young soldiers. They get along very well.” She swung her silver sandals. “There aren’t many marriages like Calpurnia and my father, Vix. But there are a lot like Trajan and Plotina.”

“He likes soldiers?” I raised my eyebrows. “Is that why you thought Trajan would like me? Because I don’t—”

“No, you oaf! I thought he’d like you because except for the preferring-soldiers-in-bed part, you’re just like him.”

“I’m an oaf, am I?” I lunged out and caught her around the waist, yanking her toward me. She still wore her elegant silver-gray dress, the one silver-and-garnet earring sparkling beside her throat.

“You’re an oaf who fought a marvelous bout against an emperor, so you get the prize.” She tugged her earring loose and dropped it into my hand. “Those tribunes were fighting over it, though I’m not sure why. You beat them, so it’s yours.”

“And what about you?”

“Oh, I’m already yours,” she said lightly. “I do love you, Vix. Quite a lot, actually.”