She couldn’t tell if Kallias was pleased with how she looked in the finery he’d sent. When he first saw her, he’d merely stared at her for a while, cleared his throat a few times, then informed her she looked beautiful. But that was probably the minimum that politeness required.
Kallias reached a set of large doors at the end of the corridor. From behind the doors, Lea could hear music—a flute, a lyre, and a light drumbeat—along with the noise of many people enjoying themselves.
Lea’s feet ground to a halt. “Wait,” she said as Kallias laid a hand on the door to push it open. “Surely they won’t even notice if I’m there or not. I bet Drusilla has forgotten she even invited me.” Her voice took on a pleading edge.Please don’t make me do this.
Kallias raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re a gladiator. Surely you’re not frightened by some patricians who can hardly lift a sword.”
“I’m not scared they’re going to attack me,” Lea said through gritted teeth. “I’m scared they’re going totalkto me.”
He gave an exasperated sigh and pushed the door open before she could further protest. She shot him a resentful glance—of course he wouldn’t understand how intimidating it was to be faced with a room full of Rome’s elite; he spent every day with these people—but followed him into the dining room.
Her gaze flicked around, taking stock of the scene as if evaluating a new opponent in the arena. Most of the space was taken up by a three-pronged table surrounded by low couches. Lamplight gleamed on the upholstery fabric, and Lea realized it must be silk. It seemed inconceivable that someone would risk silk to cover a dining couch, which could easily be stained by dropped food, but it must be nothing to these people. They probably had whole rooms full of silk to reupholster the couches.
Some people reclined on the couches already, picking at the appetizers laid out on the tables, while others milled around the room. Musicians played in a corner, the sound mixing with the swell of conversation and laughter. A bright mural was splashed over the walls, depicting a mythological scene Lea couldn’t identify.
Lea planned to stay at Kallias’s back as much as possible. He wasn’t a particularly large man, so he wouldn’t be much use as a shield, but it was better than facing this alone.
Before she could implement her strategy, a woman appeared in front of her. Lea recognized the shiny brown hair and delicate features of Julia Drusilla, sister to the emperor.
“Penthesilea!” Drusilla exclaimed. “By Juno, when you first walked in, I almost didn’t recognize you. If it weren’t for that bandage on your arm, I’d probably still be guessing.”
Lea began to utter a garbled reply, but broke off as Drusilla took hold of her uninjured arm and drew her toward the table, away from Kallias. Lea craned her head back, glancing desperately at him, but he only gave her an apologetic shrug and turned to speak with someone else.
Traitor.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Lea finally managed.Even though this might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
“I want to know all about what it’s like to be a gladiator.” Drusilla led Lea toward the central wing of the table, where she sat and gestured for Lea to sit beside her. “I have so many questions.”
Lea lowered herself gingerly onto the silken couch. She was incapable of assuming the reclining posture that the other diners used, both due to her injured arm and because she was unaccustomed to dining that way. Instead, she remained upright, legs tucked beneath herself and back straight as a javelin.
“What do you wish to know?” Lea asked. Perhaps the conversation wouldn’t be as trying as she’d feared if Drusilla only wanted to talk about gladiator life. That, at least, was one thing Lea knew well.
Drusilla had been stretching out on the couch, but paused when she noticed Lea wasn’t joining her. She rose to a sitting position, too.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lea saw several other women around the table also switch from reclining to sitting. Lea flushed, realizing Drusilla had changed her position to spare Lea from embarrassment, and now all the other ladies were copying them.
“Well, I was wondering…” Drusilla broke off as her brother sank onto the couch on her other side.
The emperor acknowledged Lea with a nod, his curious gaze running over her finely garbed figure. Lea managed a jerky nod in return, then cast her eyes down to her turquoise-covered lap. How, by all the shades of the underworld, had she ended up seated at a dinner table one spot away from the emperor himself? Did these people realize she had more in common with the slaves lurking in the background than with themselves?
She sensed she was supposed to admire him, to feel awestruck and grateful for being in his presence. But when she looked at him, all she could see was a man who had meddled with Ferox’s life by pitting him in what was supposed to be an impossible match against his student.
And she did not like people who put her friends at risk.
She kept her gaze trained carefully down, hoping her dislike didn’t show on her face.
“I feel as if I’ve traveled back in time to my grandmother’s era,” Gaius said, a joking lilt to his voice. When Lea dared raise her gaze, she saw him glancing at the way they were sitting upright, a smirk on his lips.
For a terrible moment, Lea feared Drusilla was going to confess that the unsophisticated posture was all Lea’s fault:Penthesilea is so uncultured she doesn’t know you’re supposed to recline at a fancy dinner party.
But Drusilla merely rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with displaying a bit of backbone for one evening. I feel positively virtuous.”
He chuckled and reached for his wine goblet, already filled to the brim. He brought it to his lips, but paused before taking a sip. A peculiar tension took hold of his body. “This wine…does it smell odd?” He held the cup out to Drusilla, but snatched it back before she could take it. “Wait—it could be dangerous!”
“There’s nothing wrong with the wine, Gaius,” Drusilla said in a soothing murmur. “Everything at this table has been tasted. You know that.” She reached for her own cup and raised it to her mouth.
“No!” he hissed, his hand flashing out as if to bat it away from her.
