Amara spends her morning at the Venus Baths. It is not a day to see Drusilla, rather a chance to meet more clients. Since her appearance in the chariot at the Floralia, Amara’s status—as well as her notoriety—has risen considerably. She may never be respectable, but her public display has certainly lent her an aura of wealth. Julia has become increasingly friendly and acts as a useful go-between, introducing her to women who might need financial assistance, giving the lie of a social occasion.

When their business is done, Amara and Julia sit together, sipping watered-down wine in the courtyard. The May heat is oppressive, even this early in the day, and Amara is grateful for the shaded colonnade.

“Sweet girl,” Julia says, of the young wife who has just left them. “A shame she is such a magpie. Though not a shame for you.”

“I’m grateful you introduced us.”

Julia waves her hand, gold rings shining. “Looks only last so long, lovers are just as bad. But a closet full of coin never made any woman cry. That’s what my dear mother used to say. She would certainly have approved of you. I’m delighted you are a sensible girl. Don’t ever let some man tell you money is unromantic.”

Amara smiles, thinking of her reckless assignations with Philos—behavior Julia would surely despise. “Hail Profit. That was written on the doorway of a house on the last street where I lived,” she says, daring to make an oblique reference to the brothel. “I took the lesson to heart.”

Julia laughs. “Hail Rufus, in your case,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief. Amara cannot help laughing back. Julia has the gift of disarming anyone she speaks to, making them feel like the most important person in the room. She would have made an exceptional courtesan, though as far as Amara knows, Julia has no interest in men at all. “You certainly glow with it,” Julia says, gazing into her eyes. Amara stares back, curious. Julia raises her eyebrows and smiles, perhaps amused that Amara does not look away. “I cannot believe you have not yet called on me at home,” she says. “I live with my nephew’s widow, Livia. I’m sure you would like each other.”

“I didn’t know you had a niece,” Amara says. “I would be honored to meet her.”

“Come then,” Julia rises, resting her hand briefly on Amara’s shoulder as she stands to leave. “I will introduce you.”