In her mind’s eye, Amara can see Felix at the slave market at Puteoli. The way he stood, slightly apart from those surrounding him, in the full glare of the sun. The most beautiful man she had ever seen. And when he approached, when he smiled at her and Dido, she had felt relief. Because she was foolish enough to believe he would be kind. “I don’t want to think about him,” she says, her voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this.”

“It’s alright if you loved him. It’s not your fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“Were you stupid enough to love Terentius? After all he did to you?”

“Not Terentius, no. But I loved my first master very much. I spent years wanting him to notice me, wanting to impress him, to be as important to him as he was to me. It’s so common. I don’t want you to feel guilty about it.”

“How can I not feel guilty? I hate Felix so much. I have wished him dead a thousand times, and yet, when I thought he really was going to die, when Balbus came at him with the knife, I prayed for Felix to move out of the way.” Amara pauses to control herself, not wanting to cry. “And then the knife hit Dido instead.”

She almost expects Philos to let go of her, that he will feel the disgust she feels, but he does not. “Just because you wanted Felix to live doesn’t mean you wanted Dido to die. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe,” Amara says, and allowing herself to say the word aloud is like setting down a weight. “Maybe it wasn’t. But today was my fault.”

“Do you blame me for what happened with Restituta?” She shakes her head. “Then why would I blame you for what you did? You’re not made of stone. I just wish I had asked you about Felix before. I should have realized it was too much for anyone to deal with.”

“I’m not sure it would have made any difference,” Amara replies, trying to make her voice lighter. “I wouldn’t have listened to you anyway.”

Philos smiles. “Well, that’s true. But I hope you listen to me now. We really do need to pay him back the money, all of it. Can’t you take out a loan from Drusilla, now she’s got that new man?”

“Three thousand sesterces is still far too much to ask!”

“I think you’re going to have to. Better to upset Drusilla than keep going back to Felix.” Amara sighs, knowing he’s right. He kisses her, his lips at the very edge of her mouth. “But that’s for tomorrow. I should leave you to rest now.”

“I’m not tired yet,” Amara says, holding on to him, not wanting to let go. “Not unless you are.”