“I’m sorry Vitalio was rude to you,” Philos says. “But he wasn’t trying to be cruel. He has no idea how you feel about me, or about our affair. Which is exactly how it should be.”

“What did he say to you about me, afterward?”

“He told me to watch you, as you seemed agitated. I reassured him that I do, relentlessly, and that you are nothing but loyal to Rufus.” Philos kisses her on the forehead. “I don’t want you to live in fear like this, my love. Being with me is meant to make you happier, not more miserable. Perhaps I shouldn’t visit so often.”

“No,” Amara says, holding him closer. “Don’t say that.” She can feel the heat of embarrassment creep over her skin, but still presses on. “I couldn’t bear it if you stopped coming. Sometimes, it feels like my whole life exists in the moments I’m with you. The rest is just waiting. Don’t you ever feel that?”

“Yes, but that’s what worries me.”

“You don’t want to love me?”

“I don’t want to lose you. And perhaps . . .” He hesitates, as if thinking better of whatever he was going to say, before seeing the expectant look on Amara’s face and realizing he has to finish. “If I’m honest, I didn’t expect to love you this much.”

It is a relief for Amara to laugh. “Well, that’s flattering. So you thought I’d just be a pleasant diversion?”

“No,” he replies, laughing too. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

In a swift movement, Amara pushes herself upward, so that she is no longer curled up in his arms but sitting astride him. She sees his lips part in surprise. “Are you sure this isn’t what you wanted?”

The look of lust in Philos’s eyes is familiar—she has seen desire in so many men. But the tenderness with which he draws her closer, is unlike any other she has known. “Always,” he says.

24

“Crescens, the Netter of young girls by night”

—Pompeii graffiti

The heat of the sun under the awning is making her sweat. Amara sits between Victoria and Britannica in the arena, high up in the back rows reserved for women. There is room to stretch out, at least. Today’s entertainment has an entrance fee, thinning the crowds to those who can afford to buy their way in. The Fishermen’s Games in June do not have the draw of larger public entertainments, though Amara suspects many will still be cramming the harbor right now, grateful for some time off work, even if it’s only to watch the day’s haul of fish being sacrificed to Vulcan, an offering to pray that the sea continues to be fruitful.