Martha’s shoulders are rounded, her whole posture hunched. At first Amara had thought the girl was shy, but now she recognizes it as the deliberate withdrawal of the unwilling slave. She herself used that same reticence against Felix. Amara has to stifle her irritation. The girl does not know how lucky she is to be here in this beautiful house, not there, in the brothel.

Martha is Hebrew, captured in Rome’s recent offensive against Masada—or so Philos, the household steward, told Amara. It was Philos who chose which other two slaves should join him here on behalf of his master. Rufus, who owns Martha, has not said anything about her. Slaves are not people to him. He “loaned” all the servants to Amara along with the furniture, and it would no more occur to him to explain their different personalities than he would waste his time describing a history of the tables or lampstands. Amara only hopes Rufus never slept with Martha, although the girl is pretty enough. It might explain why she is so unfriendly.

“Thank you,” Amara says, rising from the desk. “You are good to remind me.”

They walk downstairs to the first of Amara’s private rooms off the atrium. Martha has already set out the dressing table. It is impossible for Amara not to think about her friend and fellow she-wolf Victoria when she takes her place in front of all the perfumes and cosmetics. She remembers all the cheap bottles Victoria used to line up so carefully on her windowsill at the brothel, the pains she always took to look her best. Victoria is so vivid in Amara’s memory, the tumble of black curls over her shoulders, her husky laugh and the drawl of her sarcastic remarks, that it seems impossible she will not walk into the room, demanding her own turn at the table. Martha starts to comb out her mistress’s hair. Amara picks up a delicate glass jar, shaped like a flower, unstoppers it and holds it to her nose. Jasmine. It is the only scent Rufus likes her to wear. Martha huffs as Amara puts it down again, and the maid pulls at the comb. All this movement is ruining her attempts to style her mistress’s ringlets.