Amara finds the small bottle in Victoria’s cell, dabs a tiny amount of the rose perfume on her neck. She knows one of Victoria’s customers gives her various potions as a tip and doesn’t want to take too much. The thought of climbing the stairs to see Felix again makes her feel nauseous. It had confused her when she first came to Pompeii, why he wanted any of his women. He never seemed prompted by desire, let alone anything more tender. After a few weeks, she understood. All of them are afraid of him, both dreading his summons and dreading being ignored. Like everything else about Felix—it is the exercise of power.

Victoria comes into the cell, pinches her cheeks to give them more color and fusses with her hair. “What if it’s something else?” Amara asks. “What if he’s angry with me?”

“It will all be fine,” Victoria says. “I promise. Just don’t keep him waiting.”

Paris lets her in, taking the keys from his cloak as they stand together in the street. “You’re to go straight through to his study,” he says, shoving the door open and walking off, as if stopping to talk to her would add a terrible burden to his busy day.

Amara is left alone in the hallway, surprised not to be sent to the bedroom. She wonders what Felix might mean by it. She walks up the stairs and creeps round the corridor to the end. She stops, knocks gently, then carefully opens the door. To her confusion, she sees he already has company. She is about to step back, but Felix raises his hand in a gesture for her to stay. His client turns round to see who it is. When he understands he’s being watched by a prostitute, he flinches. “If this isn’t a good time . . .” he says.

“Please continue,” Felix replies, offering no explanation for the presence of one of his women. Amara slides into the room. “You were explaining why you want to take out a second loan without paying for the first.”

“I can offer you this,” the man says, taking out a pair of earrings. “They belong to my mother-in-law. Pure silver, made in Herculaneum.”

Felix takes the earrings, examining them briefly, before dropping them on his desk. “This will cover the previous debt. What about the new loan?”

“They’re worth far more than just the first loan!” the man protests. “This should cover at least half the value of the next one too!”

“They cover the first loan, but not the interest.”

“Please, Felix,” the man says, lowering his voice. “Please be reasonable. I can get you more money as soon as the shipment is in. Just give me a little time. You know I always come through.”