“Next comes the well-known fertile region of Campania. In its hollows begin the vine-bearing hills and the celebrated effects of the juice of the vine, famous the world over, and, as writers of old have said, the venue of the greatest competition between Bacchus and Ceres.”

—Pliny the Elder, Natural History

The happiness Amara feels at spending the night with Philos is darkened by their mutual unease at Rufus’s decision not to stay over. They whisper together, Amara relaying the dinner, the many times Pliny offended Rufus without even realizing, while Philos holds her, his hand warm at the small of her back. He winces when she repeats the admiral’s request to “borrow” his own freedwoman.

“I wish you had found some way to refuse the invitation. I can’t see any good coming of making Rufus jealous like this.”

“It’s Pliny! Why be jealous of the man who helped him to buy me?”

“I imagine that’s exactly why he is jealous. He understands the hold the admiral might have on you.”

“But he knows there was never anything like that,” Amara says, wondering if Philos might also be feeling possessive. “Pliny never used me that way. He was kind and respectful, nothing more.”

Philos draws her closer, kissing her, until she feels the warmth spread through her body like wine, prompting her to pin him underneath her on the bed. “It wasn’t my business,” Philos says, looking up at her. “But it’s a relief to know Pliny never hurt you.”

“Not a relief from jealousy?” Amara teases.

“I’ve told you so many times,” he says, cupping her face in his hands, her hair spilling over his fingers. “The only lovers that matter are the ones we choose.”

In the morning, Victoria is finally home, just as Philos predicted she would be. She is already in the garden when Amara wakes, her singing filling the house. Any anger Amara feels as she heads out to confront her wayward friend is disarmed by the sight of Victoria kneeling by the fountain, head thrown back to greet the sunlight. She looks so full of joy it is impossible not to smile.

“I take it Crescens wasn’t a disappointment?”

Victoria turns to her. “You have no fucking idea.”

Amara laughs. “Aren’t you going to fill me in?”

Victoria heads to the bench, and Amara joins her, touched when Victoria puts an arm around her. “It’s not a pleasure you can describe,” she says, although this has never stopped her in the past. “He’s just . . . perfect! And his body! Like holding Apollo.” She sighs, a sound dangerously close to the sort of moan Amara remembers her making at the brothel.

“Don’t go too wild, will you? I can’t have you inviting half the barracks back here. Rufus will have us all thrown out.”