“No, I’m not alright,” Cressa’s voice comes back, before she vomits again.

The three women wait, helpless, while Cressa is sick. There’s a pause, then Cressa comes out, leaning on the wall to steady herself as if she is on the roiling deck of a ship.

“Do you think you should eat something?” Victoria says.

Cressa nods wearily. “But not the Sparrow.”

“It’s too early anyway,” Beronice says, shooting a look at Amara and Victoria, still annoyed they woke her up. “They won’t be open yet.”

“We can go to a bakery. Get some bread in you,” Amara says.

They leave Dido and Britannica to sleep. Outside the sky is turning blue, and the streets are starting to get busy. Gallus is surprised to see them all out so early. He glances furtively up and down the road, checking for Felix, then kisses Beronice. “Couldn’t you leave them to it?” he says, sneaking his hand inside her cloak, fondling her.

Beronice looks at her friends, torn, while Gallus breathes into her neck. “I’ll catch you up,” she says, letting him lead her back inside.

Amara watches her go, disappointed. “She doesn’t know where we’re headed.”

“Leave her,” Victoria replies, striding off down the street. “She lets that shit walk all over her.”

Amara thinks of Victoria’s own hopeless devotion to Felix, but says nothing.

“Not too fast,” Cressa says, holding Amara’s arm. She looks even worse in the daylight, her skin covered in a film of sweat. “And let’s not walk for miles.”

A few cafés near the baths are open. They pick one and claim a table rather than stand at the counter. The bread is hard and stale. Amara thinks she will cut her cheeks to shreds by chewing it. Cressa orders a sweet wine to settle her stomach. She sits in silence, not looking up, dipping her bread in the wine to soften the crust.

“You can’t keep ignoring the obvious,” Victoria says to her quietly, in case anyone is listening. “We all know you’re pregnant. Just tell us what we can do to help.”

Cressa pauses in her dipping. “Nothing,” she says, her voice flat. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“Pitane from the Elephant had an abortion recently,” Amara says. “And it worked really well. Shall I ask her where she got the herbs?”

“No,” Cressa says, still not looking up. “I tried that last time, with Cosmus, and it didn’t work. Just cost a fortune and made me really ill.”

Victoria rubs Cressa’s arm, as if she can rub away her pain. “Perhaps Felix will let you keep the baby this time?” she says, her voice unnaturally cheerful. “Isn’t it at least worth asking?”