But she’d already taken a large sip, and she set the cup back on the table calmly. He grabbed it, peering into its contents and sniffing. “It could be poisoned. Anyone here could have done it after it was tasted.”
His exclamation had drawn the attention of some of those closest, who glanced at the imperial siblings with wary curiosity. Lea stared down at her plate, feeling as if she shouldn’t be witness to this interaction.
“We are among friends,” Drusilla said, voice low. “No one heremeans us harm.”
At the edge of Lea’s vision, she noticed Kallias materialize at the emperor’s shoulder. His tall, lean figure drew her gaze, and she abandoned her focus on her still-empty plate.
In a graceful motion, Kallias lowered himself to kneel beside the emperor’s dining couch. “Is all well, sir?” he asked quietly. Lea admired his attentiveness; he must have noticed the emperor’s discomfiture from across the room.
“Kallias,” the emperor said in relief. “I fear…the wine…I could have sworn I smelled something off…” He shook his head, as if he could physically dislodge whatever fears raced around his mind. “You have remedies for poison, don’t you? If anything happened to either of us…you could heal us, couldn’t you?” There was a plaintive note to his voice that almost made Lea pity him, and his hand trembled where it still gripped the cup.
“Of course, sir,” Kallias replied. “I have several antidotes. But there’s nothing amiss with your wine. Everything is perfectly safe.” He spoke with a combination of calm confidence and gentle deference that made even Lea feel more at ease.
The emperor let out a long breath. His shoulders relaxed. “Of course,” he said. “Of course it is.” He waved a hand, and a smile lit his face. “How silly of me.”
Kallias rose to his feet, nodded respectfully to the emperor, and returned to where he’d been sitting. Lea watched him resume his reclining position with effortless poise. The way he’d handled the emperor had a practiced feel—as if these situations arose with some regularity.
Drusilla returned her attention to Lea as if nothing had happened. “As I was saying, I was wondering…how long have you been a gladiator?”
“Eight years,” Lea replied. “Since I was seventeen.”
“So long,” Drusilla said. “You must enjoy it, then.”
Lea laughed, thinking Drusilla was joking. Then Drusilla gave her a strange look, and Lea realized she was serious.
Drusilla gave an awkward chuckle. “Did I say something amusing?”
“Well—it’s just—” Lea groped for words. She wished she were clever enough to figure out how to change the subject, but nothing sprang to mind, so she had no choice but to explain. “I was sold to my ludus as a slave eight years ago.”
Drusilla flushed, and Lea began to stammer an apology. She was not well-versed in patrician social graces, but she sensed her remark had been unforgivably rude. “Forgive me—I didn’t mean—” Her frantic gaze sought Kallias.Thiswas why she’d wanted to stay near him. Barely a quarter of an hour into this dinner party and she’d already said something stupid.
The traitorous physician paid her no attention, instead chatting with the people nearest him. He looked much too relaxed, his lean body arrayed elegantly on the dining couch as he picked at the food on his plate with delicate fingers. She would have given anything to be seated at his side instead of here.
“No,” Drusilla murmured. “It was thoughtless of me to say that. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
“Me too,” Lea admitted, which made Drusilla laugh.
The uncomfortable moment seemed to have passed, but Lea still felt she needed a distraction, so she reached out and filled her plate with a few of the nearest dishes. She took only a single slice of duck and a bit of fish; her diet as a gladiator precluded meat most of the time, and overindulging would give her astomachache. But there was a cold lentil salad that looked delicious, along with plenty of fresh bread and soft cheese she couldn’t wait to taste.
“I hope you don’t like walnuts,” Drusilla said as she watched Lea fill her plate.
“Um…” What was she meant to say to that? Lea did like walnuts, but was there some reason she wasn’t supposed to admit that?
“I get ill every time I eat them,” Drusilla continued, “so my brother has banned them from the palace.”
“Oh,” Lea said. She took a sip of wine.
As soon as she set the blue glass goblet down, a slave materialized behind her to refill it. “Thank you,” Lea murmured as the young woman disappeared back into the shadows by the wall. Before coming to the ludus, Lea had waited on many dinner parties like this—though of course never with guests of this caliber. But she remembered the endless hours of standing, the boredom, the aching feet, the cruel words barked if she didn’t move fast enough to refill a goblet or remove an empty platter. And she remembered the hands that didn’t hesitate to squeeze her bottom or palm a breast as she leaned over the table.
No matter what happened—no matter if she died in the arena or bought her freedom—she’d never go back to that life.
Drusilla asked a question about Lea’s training routine, which led into another, and another. Drusilla was intensely curious about what sort of training Lea undertook, what time she rose, when she went to bed, if she was nervous before fights…the questions went on and on. She even asked how much a female gladiator was worth, looking suitably impressed when Lea told her of the forty thousand sestertii that Lucullus wanted.
After the second course of a huge roasted pig stuffed with sausages, a few small bowls circulated among the guests. When one reached Lea, she frowned at it, attempting to decipher the contents. The bowl was filled with a coarse, ivory-colored powder. Lea lifted it to her nose and sniffed. It had a savory, slightly fishy aroma. It reminded her a bit of garum, the ubiquitous fish sauce that improved nearly every food.
Perhaps it was a powdered form of garum? Some sort of extra seasoning? That made sense, given how she’d observed other diners sprinkling it onto their food.
She would have asked Drusilla what it was, but the lady had disappeared briefly from the table. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask the emperor, who in any case was laughing with the men nearest him.
