“And you?” Felix turns sharply to Amara, catching her off guard. “Do you have nothing useful to say? Or are you just going to stand there like a dog?”

“It’s . . . it’s like they said,” she stammers. Felix waits for her to continue, radiating rage. Behind him, the wall glows red. The only sound is the heavy drumbeat of water above. Amara knows her master is just moments from erupting. If she doesn’t fill the silence, there will be nothing between her and the rain of blows that fall. “The old woman forced us out of the baths,” she says. Her eyes avoid his face, skirting instead to the fresco that frames his desk. She tracks up the black plinths, reaching the bulls’ skulls painted at the top. “She used your name. She only wanted the women belonging to you. It was an insult aimed solely at you.” Victoria gives a stifled gasp. Amara glances over, sees the fear in Victoria’s face then looks quickly away. “I don’t think it was an insult from Vibo. What would he have to gain?” Nobody replies. Amara continues, talking to the small bag of coins resting on the desk by Felix’s right hand. “Simo must have bribed him. It’s the only explanation. Simo’s got a nice little deal going on at the baths right now, why would he want to double the women and halve the profits?”

The rain is still falling, and she is almost out of courage. Nobody has ever frightened her more than the man in front of her. Amara looks up from the desk. She always avoids staring directly into his eyes, and so now, when she does, his expression surprises her. He is listening. For one brief moment, she sees him. It’s enough.

“I don’t think it’s Vibo you want to punish,” she says, her voice a little steadier. “He could be valuable. If Simo can pay him off, so can you. That way we could still make money at the baths and show we won’t be put off so easily.” Felix raises his eyebrows. She has surprised him. Amara tries to let go of her fear, imagines it rising from her body like steam, evaporating. “As for Simo, I’m sure you could teach him a lesson. Doesn’t he run a bar? Perhaps it will become less attractive to customers.”

Felix’s expression has barely changed, but she knows the worst of his anger has passed. “You bark a lot for such a little dog,” he says. He nods at Thraso’s swollen, bloodied lip. “And what did you do to Balbus in return for this?”

“I broke his nose.”