Domitian clawed screaming for his eyes. Arius twitched his head to one side, feeling the bloody fingers skate off his cheek, and drove his fist into Domitian’s throat. The blow flung the Emperor against the silk cushions of the couch, where he scuttled backward like a spider, scrabbling for the dagger that never left its place under his pillow. Arius waited until his groping fingers had found nothing—until his eyes flew to Thea in panicked accusation.

Then he gutted Domitian like a fish.

“GUARDS!” the Emperor screamed, doubling over. “GUARDS!”

No guards. Paulinus had assigned them to the other end of the palace grounds, sent them on pointless errands, bluntly bribed them with Marcus’s gold. Arius could see Paulinus from the corner of his other eye, pressed rigid against the wall.

Pretty boy, the demon whispered. Forget him.

The mad black fury roared up so fast his vision slipped. Just like the early days of the Colosseum, the days when the world had been a sword and a stretch of sand and someone to kill, nightmares afterward and no Thea to sing them away. He struck again, crushing Domitian down into a bed full of blood and silk, and it wasn’t enough.

“Paulinus!” Domitian shouted. The pretty boy’s hand went to his gladius as if he were about to fall on Arius, and Arius tensed to fight two men at once, but Paulinus never moved. Only stood against the wall, rock still, his eyes huge.

“Paulinus!” Domitian looked at his closest friend with eyes swimming in blood, and Arius let him look until betrayal swam to the top and Paulinus looked away.

The Emperor howled, scrabbling, and Arius straddled Domitian without haste, dropping a knee between the Emperor’s shoulder blades. He plunged his blade into the broad back, shearing the spine through like a silk rope. The Emperor gave a quiet gasp.

He’s dying, thought Arius remotely. I’m killing the Emperor of Rome.

“No!” The shout broke from Paulinus as he lunged away from the wall. The blow caught Arius sideways, knocking him off the Emperor. He came up rolling, but Paulinus had dropped to one knee over the Emperor’s body, holding Arius off at dagger point. “It’s enough, for gods’ sake, let him die like a man—”

“He’s not a man!” Arius snarled.

But Paulinus never heard him. He lifted Domitian up in frantic, loving hands. Blood poured everywhere. Paulinus was weeping.

“Caesar—Caesar, I’m sorry—get away from him,” he snarled at Arius, slashing out with the dagger. The blade missed Arius by an inch.

Domitian tugged the hard brown arm.

“Caesar—” Paulinus bent closer. “Sir—”

Domitian tore the dagger from Paulinus’s hand, and ripped his throat out.

Thea screamed.

Arius lunged. Too late.

“Justina,” Paulinus whispered in surprise, and died.

THEA

I struggled stiffly away from my son, falling across Paulinus, toward Domitian where he lay faceup on the mosaics, strangling on his pulped lungs. I crawled over him, nailing his body with my body, his gaze with my gaze.