“Yes. A young widow of the Sulpicii—twenty-six, no children, bringing half of Tarracina and Toscana for a dowry.”

“Are you talking of a wife or a horse?” A short laugh. “How stupid men are.”

Paulinus blinked. “Have I displeased you?”

“Oh, no. How can you do that? You’re one of the most powerful men in the city, and you don’t see anything.”

“Thea”—cautiously—“are you feeling well? It’s been very hot lately—”

“So I’m ill now, am I? Well, it’s a short step from sick to crazy. That’s what you thought about Julia.” She stalked back into the villa in a billow of saffron silk.

Paulinus wondered if he was ever going to understand women.

That afternoon Thea was gone. “Off shopping?” he asked the Emperor.

“Visiting my niece Flavia, probably.” Not looking up from his scrolls. “Why don’t you send a guard for her? I’ll want her after dinner.”

“I’ll go myself,” Paulinus smiled. Lady Flavia had joined his childhood games with Julia, too—he wondered if she’d remember him. Once they’d stolen a wine flagon from their mothers at the Circus Maximus and gotten drunk at the age of six . . .

The ride to Lady Flavia Domitilla’s villa took Paulinus’s bay mare an effortless fifteen minutes. He dismounted at the doorway, dismissing his Praetorians to the house and leading his mare around toward the stables at the back. He came around the edge of the garden—and stopped.

Thea stood in the dust of the stable yard, trailing her fine silks heedlessly in the dirt, her hair spilling down her back. She had both hands planted on the shoulders of a dirty russet-haired slave boy, and was speaking in low fierce tones.

“—don’t care what your excuse is this time, you cannot go around knocking people down! You’re very lucky to live here, and as long as you do so then you will obey Lady Flavia when she asks you to—”

“She’s not my mother!”

“But I am, and I won’t have you behaving like a barbarian!”

They glared at each other.

“Why don’t you show me your new sword drills now?” she said in softer tones. “I really do want to see them, and—”

Paulinus took a step forward. “Lady Athena?”

The smile slipped off her face as if someone had wiped it away. “Paulinus? What—what are you doing here?”

“Who’s he?” The boy turned his glare on Paulinus.

“He’s no one,” she cut in before Paulinus could answer. “Go back into the house.”

“Mother—”

“Don’t argue with me!”

The boy threw Paulinus another glance before turning toward the villa.

“Who’s that, Thea?” said Paulinus levelly.

“He’s no one. What’s it matter to you?”

“It matters because I’m Praetorian Prefect and I’m supposed to know what goes on in the Emperor’s household. What goes on behind his back.”

The belligerence faded out of her eyes, replaced by fear. “Vix doesn’t matter to the Emperor. He’s just a little boy.”

“He’s your son.”

“I said, he’s nobody.”

“He’s your son.” A hesitation. “Surely he can’t be the Emperor’s?”