Marius went next, explaining the plan he and Valens and Cato had concocted. If his friend at the auction house could be persuaded to sneak Cato in, they could buy Quintus. He’d have to be pierced as a bondslave—bound to Cato—but Iris agreed that was preferable to a short life in a mine.
“I’ll get a message to Titus tomorrow.”
Marius nodded. “Then let’s pray.” While Marius prayed, Valens watched Iris sitting stiffly, not moving at all except for the soft rise and fall of her arms locked across her chest, fingers clutching her elbows in a white-knuckled grip. She looked to be holding herself together. As Marius prayed for Quintus and his release, Valens silently prayed for Iris. Would her faith shatter if the plan did not work? God did not always answer prayers in ways that made sense, at least not by human standards. He prayed she would hold fast, no matter what happened.
As he watched her and prayed, the pinch between her eyebrows softened. Her mouth relaxed, as did the death grip she had on her elbows. Her hands fell open into her lap, palms up.
When his gaze flickered back to her face, her eyes met his. The room went silent. It was Valens’s turn.
“The Lord bless you,” he spoke softly, not breaking eye contact.“And be your protector. May the Lord make His face to shine on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord look with favor on you and give you peace.”
She shut her eyes, as if drinking in the words and the perfect promise in them. “Amen,” she whispered.
XLIV
AFTER THE PRAYER AND EVENING MEAL,where despite the enthusiasm of the orphans, Lalia and Rue declared that they werenothungry, the group stayed and visited until the little ones went to bed. Iris enjoyed the easy banter between parents and siblings, Beatrix and Valens. The atmosphere comforted and welcomed her, even if she did not join much in the conversations. Marius looked especially pained after his disturbed rest, and he and Martha excused themselves shortly after dinner. Discussion of her father’s arrest had been set aside during the meal and resumed only after Cato and Delphine herded out the children, who rubbed sleepy eyes but at the mention of bed had suddenly become “Vewy, vewyhungwy!”
Beatrix sighed as the bedtime protests faded down the hall. “Children long to grow up, yet don’t realize that the things they hate most are the very things adults look forward to—eating and bedtime.”
They all chuckled.
Phoebe gathered the dishes. Iris rose to join her.
“Sit, sit, you are a guest,” the servant protested, but Iris continued stacking bowls, slick with remains of stewed cabbage and garum sauce.
“Let me help. It’s the least I can do.”
Phoebe protested again when Beatrix gathered the wine cups but gave up when neither would listen. The three carried the dishes to the culina and would have started on the washing but for Phoebe’sfierce insistence that she would do the washing if they would bring the calda into the triclinium.
“The young ones sometimes stay up to talk,” Phoebe explained.
Bea stifled a yawn. “Well, a young one, I am not,” she said. “I’m ready to turn in.”
“I’ll bring it.” Iris reached for the prepared tray. “You go on to bed.”
“Stay up as long as you like.” Bea patted her arm. “No need to be quiet when you come up. I’m a heavy sleeper. You won’t wake me.”
Iris lifted the tray and Bea led her out, heading upstairs to the guest room she and Iris shared. Iris went back toward the triclinium, awkwardly balancing the tray and wondering how Phoebe managed it with such ease. Bumping the door open with her hip, she found the room nearly empty. Only Valentine sat on one of the couches, plucking the strings on a lute, head cocked as if trying to decide whether it was in tune or not. He set it aside and straightened as she entered.
“Where is everyone?” Iris slid the tray onto the low table. The room was dim. The bright lamps had been taken by everyone else, which left one near Valentine and two hanging lanterns flickering in dimpled copper shades in the corner.
He shrugged. “Abachum left as soon as I found this sitting in the corner.” He waved a hand toward the lute. “Cato and Delphine will be back once the children are asleep.”
She sat on the couch nearest his, where the arms met at right angles. “I didn’t know you played.” She nodded toward the lute. “I had a small harp once, but I was never any good. Will you play something?”
He looked oddly uncomfortable and inclined his head as if deciding how to answer. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He forced a laugh and a light tone, though his eyes remained serious. “Because you just got here, and I don’t want to scare you away too.”
She squinted, not quite believing him, and noticed a pebble on the floor near the leg of the table. One of the children had likelysecreted it inside. With a sudden grin, she scooped it up and turned to Valens, grabbing his hand. His eyes went wide at her touch.
“This, sir, is a magic rock.” She lowered her voice and pressed the pebble into his hand. “It will make anyone who touches it play a song on a lute to make me feel better.”
Valentine threw his head back and laughed, his fingers wrapping around hers, the pebble trapped between their hands. “Fine. I give in. But I did warn you.”
“See? I told you it was a magic rock.” She parroted his words back to him, both of them recalling that first meeting in the market. He sent her an amused look, squeezed her fingers, and took the pebble as he released her hand. Iris felt a sudden rush of guilt. What was she doing? Her father was doomed for the auction house and she was here flirting?
