The boat does not move as swiftly as Pliny’s quadrireme to Misenum. The small merchant vessel is not going to carry them for the whole journey, only as far as Puteoli. From there they will travel the rest of the way by road. The wind whips at Amara’s hair. She watches the coast pass by, the giant bulk of Vesuvius looming over the bay, its peak piercing the clouds. They are approaching the harbor at Pompeii, but the ship does not slow.

Venus stands on her giant column, the guardian of her city. Amara thinks of the plea she once made to the goddess at the Vinalia, all that time ago, with Dido. May men fall to me as this offering falls to you, Greatest Aphrodite. May I know love’s power, if never its sweetness.

From here, on deck, she can see the city walls, the Temple of Venus, and beyond that, hidden from view, are all the streets she has walked, the Forum, the Wolf Den, Rufus’s house with the golden door, Julia’s garden. Somewhere, in Pompeii right now, Philos is with Rufina. The people she loves most are in this city, and those she hates more than death. Amara says a silent prayer, not to Venus this time, but to the deity to whom she owed her first allegiance, Pallas Athene. Grant Philos wisdom, Grant Britannica victory, Protect Rufina, I beg you, goddess of my fathers, goddess of my heart.

Amara places a hand to her chest. There is no danger she will give her heart away. There is nothing left of it to give. The last words Philos said to her, before she left for Stabiae, turn over in her mind. They had only had the briefest moment alone, and he had taken Amara’s hand, the way he once did in the street, his thumb pressed to hers. You will be better off without me. She had understood then that he still loves her. But the thought brings her little comfort now, when she is leaving him behind. The boat dips, and she is splashed with spray, its touch cold on her skin. She does not flinch.

“Lost in thought, my darling?”

Demetrius comes to stand beside her, looking out across the bay. Then he turns, observing her face without tenderness. The coldness in his eyes matches her own. Even here, set against the elements, the vast blue of the sea and sky, with the mountain behind, she can feel his pull. She remembers the words she said to Philos. Nothing means anything without money. Hatred coils around the remains of her heart—not for Demetrius, but for herself. She smiles. “I’m thinking of the future.”

He points toward the stern. “Then you should face that way.”