Page 130 of Empress, Goddess

Inside, Princess the lynx was curled up on the bed.

Claudia stood out at the balcony, taking deep lungfuls of night air, much colder than the heat of the Pompeii summer when she and Gia had fallen in love. She put her hands on the rough stone railing and tried not to cry as the weight of so many problems dragged her spirit down.

Claudia felt a loneliness she hadn’t experienced since the days before Pompeii. Before Gia. It was a deep, cold ache, down to the bones – the kind of loneliness that can last a lifetime. It was the loneliness of a person who feared love and being loved, a person who was unable to hold on to the thing they wanted most of all.

She turned and went back inside, lying down under the canopy of the bed, adopting various positions in restlessness as she waited.

She was sure Gia would turn up eventually, yet she couldn’t prevent herself from picturing the worst. They hadn’t spent the night together since Claudia had requested space.

As the hourglass tipped, she found herself consumed by worry, wondering what Gia might be doing without her. Curiosity compelled her, possessed her, filling her with unspent energy, as if she might burst if she couldn’t let it out.

Without a deity to guide her, Claudia was drawn by the worst impulses – ones she could no longer ignore. The part of her that was firm and steadfast was stretched thin, until it finally snapped.

She told herself that it was for her safety.

For her protection.

‘Show me Gia,’ she said, touching the shield.

The steel was not as malleable as the water, nor its images as clear, but just as when she gazed into the pond, a picture emerged.

Gia sat at a table in a rustic-looking taberna with Dominic, Dido and Livia, all of them dressed in casual togas. They sat before a window, drinking from a large clay jug of wine painted with a fresco of Grecian-style athletes.

‘We’re glad you came,’ said Dido.

‘We didn’t really expect you to turn up,’ said Livia, smoothing down her hair.

Gia had gone out, left the palace without telling her. Claudia knew it was not a good sign.

‘I wasn’t expecting to be free tonight,’ said Gia, ‘but I am. So it goes, right?’ She sounded unusually mournful. ‘That’s life.’

‘Are we celebrating, or commiserating?’ asked Dido.

As far as Claudia could tell, it was a gladiator-themed establishment, with sporting murals and mosaics, frequented by a colourful cast of Rome’s lower-ranking residents.

‘Both,’ said Gia.

Vulpine-eyed Livia raised her glass, which the others copied.