“It’s been kept quiet, Lepida, but I caught a whisper—I do keep my ear to the ground, you know. The Emperor asked his astrologer to predict the date of his death, and he got a much nearer date than he liked.”

“Nessus is unreliable now,” Lepida snapped. “Nothing will kill Domitian.”

“Of course. Though the thought must make you nervous.”

“Don’t try me, Marcus. If I ever do become Empress”—a swirl of saffron silk and a jangle of gold bracelets—“I’ll have your head on a spike.”

Marcus smiled as she clicked out of his tablinum in her gold-trimmed sandals. Nicely planted, he thought. If Lepida pushed to be Empress she’d be out in a fortnight—out from Domitian’s charmed circle of protection. And if Marcus’s suspicions were right and Paulinus was shaking off her malign influence as well . . .

“Father?” Sabina’s feather-brown head poked around the door.

“Are you listening at keyholes again, Vibia Sabina?”

“How else am I supposed to learn anything?” She slipped in, shutting the door behind her. “Father . . . why did you suggest a divorce? You didn’t think she’d take it.”

“Didn’t I?”

“I know your voice.”

He looked at her. “No.” After a pause. “I didn’t think she’d take a divorce.”

Sabina took a step closer. “So divorce her.”

“Should I?”

“She’s my mother. I know I should honor her.” Sabina paused. “But . . .”

“But?”

“She’s beautiful. She’s even sort of interesting, like the way poisonous snakes are interesting. But she’s awful. Why didn’t you divorce her years ago?”

“That’s not for you to question, Vibia Sabina.”

“Yes, it is. What happened? Did she threaten you?”

You, Marcus wanted to say. Paulinus was a Praetorian Prefect, the Emperor’s best friend; no slander of Lepida’s would stick long to his name. But Sabina had no such protection.

“Did she threaten me instead?” Sabina’s question didn’t surprise Marcus. His daughter’s thoughts and his had always run close together. “That shouldn’t have stopped you, Father.”

“No.” He smiled. “But I had thought to see you married first.” Married, grown, out of reach of Lepida’s malice.

“I don’t think I want to get married. I’d rather see the world.” Sabina’s mouth firmed. “Divorce her.”

He looked up at his child, and didn’t see her. He saw a girl grown almost to his own height, her hair coiled on her neck like a woman’s and a woman’s steady eyes gazing into his.

“Gods,” he said. “You grew up behind my back.”

“Think about it?” she pleaded.

He smiled, smoothing her hair. “Yes, I’ll think about it. Now, are you too big to give me a hug?”

She leaned her sleek brown head on his crooked shoulder. “Never.”

THEA

FOR a moment my mouth hung open like a bumpkin’s. “Athena.” The Empress of Rome glided across Marcus’s tablinum and pressed my hand as if we were old friends. “Lovely to see you, my dear. I haven’t heard a note of good music since you left the palace. And this is the famous Arius? I’ve watched you a good many times, with great pleasure. Paulinus, you don’t look well. Have you been ill? My husband has been worried. Marcus, are we all here?”