Cassia rose, setting aside her pen, and regarded me in all innocence. “I never left the apartment, I promise you. You were wise to tell me to remain out of danger.”
I kept jabbing with my finger. “You sent spies to watch over me.”
“You mean Merope and Gaius?” She flushed. “I might have mentioned their names to Helvius and suggested they be hired for Severina’s dinner tonight. Did they perform well?”
“Spies,” I said this with conviction as I stumbled on the uneven floor.
Cassia was beside me in an instant, her cool touch balancing me. I reflected that her gentle fingers were far more pleasant on my skin than Severina’s groping, honey-sticky ones.
“Guards,” Cassia contradicted softly. “They were to run for help at the first sign of trouble. But as you are home, and safe, then we must be wrong about Severina.”
I tried to tell Cassia what had happened—about the feast and wine, Severina’s flirtation and attempted seduction ending with her falling asleep, and my conversation with Vestalis. Banal events that were nothing like the intrigue and danger I’d expected.
My words came out slurred and garbled. Cassia towed me to the bed and nudged me down to it. I didn’t need any coaxing—my body fell onto the reed mattress in an ungainly heap.
I kept trying to explain my story, but Cassia only straightened my limbs and removed my sandals.
“Hush,” she said, her voice tranquil. “Sleep now. We’ll speak in the morning.”
I saw the sense in this and closed my mouth and my eyes. I felt a blanket ease over me and Cassia’s touch on my shoulder.
“Thank all the gods you are well, Leonidas.” The words were a low murmur, but I heard them as I slid into a deep and numbing sleep.
* * *
When I swam awake thenext morning, the sun was well up, the apartment warm. Cassia sat at the table, writing as usual. The street outside was very quiet, which meant I’d slept through the time when nearby residents lined up to buy their daily supply of wine.
I raised my head and immediately regretted it. The rich food and drink I’d taken at Severina’s table roiled in my stomach and pounded through my skull.
Cassia glanced up. “Good morning,” she said brightly.
“Is it morning?” I mumbled, or thought I did.
“Nearly afternoon. I’ve mixed something for you to drink.” She pointed with her stylus to the copper cup that usually held my wine.
I never wanted to eat or drink anything ever again. With great effort, I heaved myself to a sitting position, realizing I smelled of old sweat and Severina’s cloying perfume.
Standing came next. That took a while. Finally, I was on my feet, staggering toward the table.
How I reached it without bringing up everything that was in my stomach, I never knew. I held on to the thick boards of the table and lowered myself gingerly to my stool while Cassia watched me without expression.
She slid the cup to me, and I peered down into gray-green sludge. “What is it?” I croaked.
“A mixture to make you feel better. Nonus Marcianus taught me how to prepare it.”
Marcianus’s concoctions usually resembled something an animal had spat up. But I trusted him and trusted Cassia, so I lifted the cup to my mouth, closed my eyes, and swallowed what was inside it.
The mixture tasted as foul as it appeared. The liquid oozed down into my stomach where it settled like lead.
“When you are up to it, I have bread and eggs for you to eat,” Cassia said.
“I don’t want any food.”
Ignoring me, Cassia rummaged in one of her boxes and pulled out what looked like a small, flat board. “I bought something for you yesterday.”
She set the wooden board in front of me, which had a polished surface with letters carved into it. I recognized a few as the letters in my name, but they were in random order, and I could not put them together. Cassia laid a stylus next to the board.
I lifted a puzzled gaze to see Cassia beaming at me, as though she expected me to know what to do.
