She hurries out, not wanting to see Felix push Victoria back on the bed, and closes the door. Paris is outside on the balcony, scrubbing the floor with noticeably more vigor than usual. She tries to step clear of the suds and give him space, but he stops her, his thin face eager. “Did Felix tell you?” he says, getting to his feet and glancing up and down the corridor. “Did he tell you he’s sending me on a job? Not Thraso. Not Gallus. Me.”

Amara nods. She thinks about Felix’s reasoning, that Paris is less noticeable. No doubt he is also more expendable. She has little affection for her roommate but also knows that Fabia’s unhappy son is going to be solely responsible for her safety tonight. “I told you he would start to use you more,” she says, flattering him. “It’s a big job he’s given you.”

“You’ll both have to do as I say,” he says, not sure if she is mocking him. “I’m the man; I’ll be in charge.”

“Of course.” Amara bows her head slightly to show him she understands. Paris swallows, flicking his eyes to Felix’s room, and she can see that for all his bravado he is also afraid. “You don’t have to do anything you will regret though,” she says, thinking again of Fabia, of all that the young man means to his mother. “You don’t have to put yourself in danger.”

Paris draws himself up to stand even taller, throwing his shoulders back like Gallus. “It’s what I was born for,” he says. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re just a woman.”

The day drags, but Amara still wants it to go on longer, doesn’t want darkness to come. She is not sure exactly what Felix has planned for Simo but knows he must intend to kill him. How else is he going to end the feud? Amara thinks about how close she is to leaving this place, the Saturnalia is only a few days away. She cannot die now, not when her escape is all but guaranteed. She thinks about trying to smuggle out a message to Rufus, or even Philos, begging one of them to come and get her. But who could she possibly trust to deliver it? Paris would see her if she tried to sneak out. And Felix’s rage would be terrible.

It is Victoria who finally comes to collect her from the storeroom. She is swathed in a veil, like a married woman. Though it looks more like a shroud. Amara’s heart starts to race with fear.

“I don’t think we should do this,” she says, not wanting to touch the veil Victoria is holding out to her. “What if somebody from Simo’s bar recognizes us? What if Maria or Attice come out?”