“Ssshh,” he told Thea. “Sleep now.”

“But Vix—”

“We’ll get him back.” In his mind’s eye he saw Vix lunging at the Emperor, table knife in hand. Why had he ever taught the boy to fight?

“I can’t sleep.” But her eyes were half-closed already as he carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, a flicker of pain crossed her face.

“What?”

“Nothing—my ribs—”

He reached for the fastening of her gown.

“No!” Her hands pushed feebly at his. “No, I’m just bruised—”

He peeled away the crushed silk, feeling for breaks in the bones.

What he found was a bruise. Greenish, days old, not new. Under the curve of her breast. How would she get a bruise there . . . and one so oddly shaped?

His fingers found another. And another.

He pulled back the rest of her gown.

“Arius.” Thea’s voice was a whisper. “Don’t.”

In the flicker of firelight, the bruises and the scars and the burn marks were all but invisible. Not to his hands, though. By touch he found them all.

“Arius—”

He looked at her. He didn’t know what expression was on his face, but she put her arm up as if to shield her eyes. The lines of the knife scars, he saw for the first time, now climbed nearly up to her elbow.

He reached out to touch her face but stopped. Every muscle in her body had pulled into a quivering knot.

He took his hand away. Tugged her gown around her again. “You’re right,” he said. “Just bruises.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her. Her eyes were full of a sick self-loathing.

“Sleep.” He rose, laid his cloak down along the opposite wall, and stretched himself out. “You keep the bed.”

He saw the relief as she ducked her head away, huddling like a child. Although it was a long time before she slept.

Arius didn’t sleep at all.

Careful, big boy, Hercules told him. Don’t stir up any graves better left alone. But Hercules was the one rotting in a grave. Hercules was dead, and Stephanus the gardener would die with Lady Flavia.

Arius the Barbarian was still alive.

He unburied the demon, spade by patient spade of dark grave-earth. It unfolded itself, stretched, yawned from its long sleep. Then it settled down, and the two of them, Arius and his demon, planned with slow, burning pleasure exactly what they would do to the Emperor of Rome.

ROME

PAULINUS didn’t have much time for a warning, but he tried his best.

“Look,” he growled at the bristly head that topped his shoulder. “I’m fond of your mother, and for her sake I’ll try to keep you alive. Keep your mouth shut, and give the Emperor whatever he wants.”

“Yeah.” The marble hall was cold, but sweat stood out along the boy’s forehead.

“What possessed you?” Paulinus couldn’t help asking. “Trying to stab the Emperor?”

“Dunno.” Vix shrugged, chinking the chains between his wrists and ankles. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, maybe now it doesn’t seem like such a great decision, but—”