Her voice deepened in imitation of his. “Correct.”

Before Paulinus could blink, Domitian had his hands around his niece’s throat. It took Paulinus and two guards to pry him away. Vix took the opportunity to lunge back into the farthest corner, well out of the way.

“Tie her up,” the Emperor snapped to the guards, breathing in fast snorts. “Tie her up. Do it!” he screamed as they hesitated, visibly, to lay hands on a princess—Vestal—whatever she was.

Paulinus turned away from the sight of Julia, red finger marks gleaming on her throat, passively surrendering her wrists. “Sir—” To Domitian. “Caesar, please—”

The Flavian voice overrode his own. “Guards. Restrain Prefect Norbanus.”

The Praetorians grabbed his elbows. Paulinus got a hand free, grabbed for the Emperor’s arm. “Caesar, have I ever asked you for anything?”

Domitian paused. The furious gaze lightened briefly and purely with love. “No,” he said, covering Paulinus’s hand with his own. “No. You haven’t. Quiet, now.”

He turned away, back to Julia, and touched her hair where the fine pale gold strands fell around her shoulders like a Vestal’s veil. “I have a piece of this hair in my private chambers,” he mused. “Resting alongside the urn containing your ashes. Although I suppose they aren’t really your ashes, are they? Only the hair is real . . . You gave up your life for your half-sister, Julia. Was it worth it?”

“It was the will of my goddess.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll give you the opportunity, shall I? Guards!”

Whispered orders. Paulinus turned his face away. He couldn’t bear to see Lady Flavia. But it wasn’t Lady Flavia the guards shoved into the room—it was her second son. Pale, chained, gaunt, trying desperately to keep a brave face. The last heir of the Flavian house. Exactly Vix’s age. From the corner, Vix’s eyes flickered.

“Flavia Domatilla’s son,” said Domitian, unnecessarily. “Bow to your aunt Julia, boy.”

Trembling, the boy bowed.

“The last of his family,” the Emperor continued. “His brother dead, his father dead, his mother all but dead. So what’s to become of him? Will you save him, too?”

Her voice was low and even. “If I can.”

“Ah, but can you? That’s the question. What would you give to save this boy?”

“My life.”

“But you’ve already given that, haven’t you? For his mother. What can you possibly give for him?”

The boy looked from his uncle to his aunt and back, a moan deep in his throat. Vix sat frozen in his corner. Paulinus did not dare make a sound.

“What is it you want, Uncle?” Julia, very quiet. “That is the real question.”

Domitian laughed, that open charming laugh he so rarely let loose. “Of course it is,” he said, amused. “It always is. For you, it always will be. Because that’s what you were put on this earth to do, Julia. To please me. And if you please me again, now, and promise to go on pleasing me for the rest of your life, then I’ll let the boy go.”