“I’m Nessus,” he said, beaming. “The Emperor’s astrologer. You must be the new concubine? Very pleased to meet you. And no, the Emperor isn’t here. Gone on some official business, I believe. He should be gone all day.”

I nodded a stiff greeting. I couldn’t form a single word, but Nessus didn’t seem to notice, plopping down on a carved stool opposite my couch and sticking out his plump sandaled feet.

“Athena, isn’t it? Knew it was some sort of goddess. You’ve met Ganymede, I see. That’s him combing your hair. An apt name, isn’t it?”

I looked up at the slave, who smiled over my shoulder. Ganymede—“beautiful youth”—it was apt. He had dark-blue eyes and wheat-colored hair and a form like a golden Apollo. His hands were very gentle. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely.

“He’s a mute,” said Nessus. “Naturally mute, as it happens, though it hardly makes any difference since the other slaves in this villa have had their tongues removed.”

I looked at the little astrologer. “You’re no mute.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a slave. As good as one—no one wants an astrologer these days, so I’m bound to my Imperial pension. Are you going to eat those rolls?”

I pushed the food toward him. “Why—why does no one want an astrologer?”

“Because it’s against the law, of course. The Emperor has officially exiled astrologers. But he has found my services useful all the same—quite natural; I am the best—so he has found it convenient to keep me at his side. It’s a good job as they go: The food is delicious, the wine plentiful, and the pay regular.” He smeared honey on a roll. “Now your story. I’m quite famished with curiosity.”

“I’m a singer. He saw me, he liked me, he brought me here. That’s all.”

“You must learn to put a little verve into your storytelling, my dear. Don’t be afraid to brag. I myself am an inveterate bragger. There must be something special about you, or he’d never have chosen you in the first place. What’s your secret?”

“My secret?” I curved a hand around my throat. “I don’t remind him of Julia.”

“Ah.” Nessus’s bright little eyes flicked in quick sympathy to my bruises. “A strange girl, Julia. Such a fragile thing, but she stood eight years of his—” He cleared his throat hastily. “That is, she wasn’t as fragile as she looked. Could have bowled me over with a feather when she died. I would have sworn it wasn’t her time to go. I’d read her horoscope, you know. Well, she took fate into her hands, she did. Some people can do that.” He sighed and bit into a peach.

“You read her horoscope?”

“Yes. And her palm, too. Tell you the truth, I like palms better than stars. Not so much mathematics involved.”

“Could you read mine? I want to know how soon he’ll get tired of me.”

His gaze flickered at my raw voice. He held out his plump little hand and I gave him mine.