“Time to lie low, Senator,” said the Barbarian. “Nothing more for you to do.”

Thea was already descending the stairs, every inch the Imperial mistress: head high, hair loose, eyes empty.

SABINA spoke rapidly. “’Linus, my mother found out what you’re plotting—”

Paulinus blinked shock. “I’m not plotting anyth—”

“Oh, don’t be stupid! There isn’t time.” Giving his hand a little shake. “She found out, and she’s coming here, and—”

“Huh?” said Vix.

“’Linus and my father are plotting with your father—”

“Hey, my father’s dead.” Vix suddenly looked wary.

“No, he’s not.” Exasperated. “Somebody Father called the Barbarian came to our house a few nights ago. And you’re the Young Barbarian, aren’t you? It wasn’t hard to figure out. So they’re all plotting, and my mother—”

“Who’s your mother?” Vix interrupted before Paulinus could grab hold of this strange streaming conversation.

“Lady Lepida Pollia.”

“That bitch?” He pulled back, wary again.

“That bitch,” Sabina agreed, making Paulinus blink again.

Vix shrugged sagely. “You can’t let a mother get in your way.”

“No, you can’t,” Sabina agreed, much struck, and turned back to Paulinus. She outlined what had happened—her mother, Arius and Thea, all of it—in a few cool words. They all stood regarding each other. The Praetorian guard shouted something toward Paulinus. For the first time he saw the nervous crowds streaming past them toward the Forum, the guards edgy and restless at the gate, the sun slanting down toward the river. “I’ll take care of everything,” he said, then bent down to kiss Sabina on her bruised forehead. When this was all over, he’d take Lepida apart for daring to hurt his sister. “You were very brave to come here, Vibia Sabina.”

“Yeah.” Vix reached out and tipped her face up, admiring her bruises. “That bitch really went to work on you, didn’t she? You know, a kiss from a gladiator will clear those marks right up—”

Paulinus swatted him.

“You’ve already cured me once, Vercingetorix.” Sabina’s eyes rested on Vix a moment, thoughtful. “We’ve met before, you know.”

“We have?”

“At the games, when I was seven years old. You stole my pearl haircomb.”

“Did not,” Vix said automatically.

“Did too. But it’s not important.” Sabina smiled. “I had epilepsia back then. Someone got me some of your blood. Gladiator’s blood cures fits, they say.”

Vix grinned. “Did it work?”

“I ran all the way here from my house, and I kept thinking I’d have a seizure and not get here in time. But I didn’t. In fact, I’ve never felt better.” She stood on tiptoe, putting a small hand on the back of Vix’s sunburned neck, and brushed her lips against his. “Worth a kiss, I’d say.”

Vix’s arms came instantly around her waist, but she disengaged herself, eyes going back to Paulinus before he could bristle. “Head off my mother, ’Linus,” Sabina warned. “Or she’ll ruin everything.”

Paulinus gave a reluctant little salute in response and turned back toward the gate, propelling Vix before him. Easy enough to give a word to the guards, forbid Lepida entrance—although a large enough bribe might get her inside even so . . . He looked back at his sister, a small straight blue figure receding into the crowds. Thank all the gods there were for Sabina.