Lea turned hesitantly to the woman on her other side. She hadn’t yet spoken to this lady, as all her attention had been taken up by Drusilla.
The woman surveyed her with flared nostrils and a curled lip, her expression haughty and forbidding. Lea cleared her throat, attempting to summon the words, but before she could, the woman swiveled away from her, presenting Lea with her silk-swathed back.
“No one told me today was Saturnalia,” the woman said in a snide tone to her dining companion, referencing the holiday on which slaves dined in their masters’ places.
Lea contemplated a nearby serving knife and briefly fantasized about driving it into the woman’s eye. Then she returned herattention to the powder-filled bowl in her hands. She decided it was best to copy the other diners, so she reached in, took a large pinch, and sprinkled it over her food.
She slid the bowl toward the loathsome woman without speaking and took a bite of her newly seasoned food. The powder had a salty savor with a mild fish aftertaste—not unpleasant when paired with the lentil salad she’d been enjoying most.
She ate in silence. Drusilla reappeared, her makeup looking refreshed, and engaged Lea in further conversation.
By the time the third course—heaping trays of oysters and lobsters—was brought out, Lea was feeling decidedly odd. Her gaze couldn’t seem to focus on anything, her vision blurring and shifting. She blinked, trying to anchor her sight on the craggy shell of an oyster, but it remained an indistinct gray mass. Her head spun, and suddenly she couldn’t feel the silken cushions beneath her anymore, as if she were floating. Something about her arm felt different too, and she realized the dull ache had entirely vanished.
She grabbed for her wine goblet. Her clumsy fingers nearly overturned it, but she managed to grip the stem and drag it closer, inspecting the contents. Was it possible the servers had given her unmixed wine? She had been drinking more than usual, feeling less awkward with a glass in her hand. But as she blearily looked inside, the liquid appeared a blush pink, well-diluted with water.
She pushed the goblet aside and looked down at her silver plate. An unpleasant jolt ran through her. The food had disappeared. Instead, the plate was filled with a collection of loose flower petals: pink and red and yellow and white.
That was very, very strange.
She reached for one of them, but her fingers couldn’t seem to make contact.
A tide of panic rose inside her, fighting through the cloying unsteadiness. She didn’t know what was happening to her. Was she the only one who felt this way? She tried to glance around the table, but the other diners had turned into blurry, vague shapes. Drusilla had vanished again, as far as Lea could tell.
A hazy fear swelled.Poison?Someone had mentioned that earlier. Someone had been afraid of it.
Her gaze sought Kallias, but couldn’t find him.
The dark shadow of the doorway caught her attention.Escape. Yes—she needed to leave this room, to find some fresh air and hopefully come back to herself.
Lea struggled to her feet. Her long garments tangled around her legs, but she yanked herself free and stumbled toward the doorway.
8
Kalliascursedhimselffornot warning Penthesilea about the powdered dreamfish. He hadn’t expected her to take any, but then he realized she must not have known what it was. She wouldn’t be prepared for the stupor and possible visions that would come over her.
When she rose and staggered from the room, a man—one of Gaius’s friends—followed her almost immediately.
Kallias shot to his feet. He made his way to the door, moving as casually as he could, though he suspected no one was paying attention. As soon as he was out of the room, his pace increased. Under no circumstances would he leave Penthesilea alone in her condition. He was responsible for bringing her here, and he’d make sure she was safe.
Ahead, he caught sight of her veering through the corridor. She threw out a hand to catch herself against the stone wall. Gods, she could barely walk. He’d noticed she had eaten little at dinner, so the intoxicant must have had a greater effect on her.
Her pursuer was somewhat more upright, but hadn’t reached her yet. Kallias jogged a few steps until he reached the man. He tapped the young man’s shoulder, prompting him to whirl around.
“Excuse me, sir, I think you’ve lost your way.” Kallias spoke conversationally and spun the man around. “The dining room is that way.”
The man uttered a feeble protest, but Kallias pushed him gently toward the dining room, away from Penthesilea. The man took a stumbling step in that direction, then cast a look back at Kallias that somehow managed to be both aggrieved and confused. Kallias offered a cool smile. The man seemed to lose interest in his quarry, for he charted a meandering path back down the hallway.
Relieved, Kallias turned to catch up with Penthesilea. She had paused, leaning a forearm against the wall as if she couldn’t quite figure out how to go on.
“Penthesilea?” He reached out to touch her shoulder, hoping to steady her, but as soon as his fingers brushed her skin, she flinched away from him.
“Get off me!” She shoved him away, hands catching him in the chest with a force that would have surprised him in anyone but a gladiator.
He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “It’s just me. Kallias. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
Her hazy gaze swept over his face. “Kallias,” she murmured, as if trying to jog her memory of who he was.
“Your physician,” he offered helpfully. Someone had done her hair in an elegant arrangement of braids, but a wisp had slipped loose, and it fluttered around her face, brushing her cheek. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear, but held back.
