“Amara, come now.” Felix’s voice is soothing. He gets up from his desk and walks over to her, pulling her up from the stool. He holds her upright, gripping her shoulders, not quite in an embrace. “Don’t pretend. You were the one who suggested biding my time, not striking straight after the baths. None of these men can be traced to me. Why do you think I keep so many of my clients private?” He draws her a little closer. “The thing about revenge,” he says, his breath soft in her ear, “is that destroying your enemies is all that matters. Bragging about it, identifying yourself, that’s for children.” He stands back, releasing her slowly so she doesn’t fall. “Now.” He claps his hands as if to wake her from a trance. “Enough. You and Dido need to get yourselves some pretty clothes, start practicing your songs.”

“Why tell me? If it’s not bragging, why tell me?”

Felix perches on the edge of his desk, studying her. “Because you have even more to lose if this gets out than I do.” He looks up at the bulls’ skulls on the wall, as if suddenly noticing a new detail in the design. “Or maybe Simo would consider Dido more valuable than you. She is prettier after all.”

Fear grips Amara. She feels it sink deep inside, like a hook piercing a fish, and understands it is a pain that will never let her go. Felix picks up Nicia’s silver coin and uncurls her fingers, pressing it into her palm. She says nothing. He turns his back on her, settling himself behind the desk again.

“Drauca didn’t do anything to you,” Amara says. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Felix laughs. “Nobody gets what they deserve.” He looks genuinely amused. “What do you think it takes to survive in Pompeii? It’s not all sucking cocks and fine dresses. Now off you go, get a fucking move on.”

Outside his flat, Amara leans against the wall of the brothel. She wants to scream, to smash her fists on the door, howl out her anguish. Instead, she stands silent, jaw clenched shut. The need to tell, to share the burden of knowledge, presses against the sides of her skull. She closes her eyes. Nothing will be gained by sharing this. Why should Dido walk in fear too? Every waking moment shadowed by the memory of what Felix has done. She doesn’t consider trusting any of the others, not with a secret this lethal.

You were the one who suggested turning over his bar in the first place. Amara breathes in deeply, rubbing the silver coin between her fingers. There is nothing to be done but imagine it never happened, to try to pretend, even to herself, that she doesn’t know.