Amara is about to say that she too is from Attica, but the dead look in Lais’s eyes stops her. As far as Lais knows, Amara might be just like Felix, an owner who will treat her with viciousness or indifference, not somebody she should trust. And it’s true that Amara cannot answer for the behavior of all the men Lais and Phoebe will be obliged to entertain. Perhaps she is not so different from her former master, after all. Before the unpleasant thought can take root, she forces herself to imagine Felix in the red study, waiting to call in his debts. It’s them or me, she tells herself. Anyone would do the same.

Josephus and the trader agree on a sale of four thousand sesterces for the pair, less than the maximum amount Drusilla had bargained for, and significantly less than Amara paid Felix for her friends. Inexpert as she is in the sale of human beings, Amara still understands this is a good price. Josephus hands over a purse stuffed with coins as a deposit and signs an agreement to pay the rest on a set date. More arguing ensues over whether they can have the girls now or not. Josephus carries the argument by threatening to take the deposit back. Eventually, Amara and Drusilla take possession of Phoebe and Lais.

They head along the docks, back toward the town, Josephus and Britannica guarding the newly purchased women who have been bundled up in cloaks to spare them the humiliation of trudging semi-naked through the streets. Amara and Drusilla walk a little ahead. “You did well,” Drusilla murmurs, so quietly that Amara almost misses what she says. “It gets easier.” Amara darts a look at Drusilla’s face. It is as smooth and inscrutable as before. “If it is the will of the gods, they shall find their freedom, as we did,” Drusilla continues. “Those who are destined to rise, rise.”

Light spray splashes onto Amara’s face as a wave hits the harbor wall. The sea stretches out on her right, roiling and glittering in the sunlight, beautiful yet treacherous. Amara thinks of her friend Cressa, drowned in this harbor, choosing to end her own life rather than continue to live as Felix’s slave, unable to bear the pain of losing the child she was carrying. It would be so easy for Amara to believe her own good fortune is fated, but she does not. “My freedom was partly your doing,” Amara replies. “You gave me the confidence to ask Rufus to buy me.”

Drusilla gives a small, gracious shrug. “You had already decided,” she says. “I saw it in your face the first time we met. And I saw it in his. I had never known Rufus so enamored of a woman before.”

Amara thinks of all she has learned about her lover since that time and says nothing.