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Ismene poured me a cup from a tall pitcher.

The snip of the gardener’s shears continued. Around us, insects buzzed, and birds chirped.

I studied the tabula board. Whoever was playing white was a roll away from having two of her pieces captured. “You know, it’s a wonder that the Imperator keeps you here, while at the same time his wife is outlawing brothels across the city and sending women like us away to be reformed.”

Nina laughed. “Is it really such a wonder? I’m sure she’d like to banish us also, but Jovinian gets what he wants. We’re the lucky ones, safe and protected in this beautiful garden.” She swept out a graceful arm, encompassing the palace and its walled garden in a single gesture.

“Or perhaps you’re locked in a cage,” I said.

All three women were silent for a moment, and then Nina shrugged. “Have it your way. I, for one, am grateful for my circumstances.”

The gardener continued his work. I could see his white toga and basket of tools on the other side of a cypress tree.

“Flavia once suggested the same thing to me,” I said. “That I should be grateful for my circumstances.”

“Flavia?” asked Ismene.

I took a sip of the sweet drink. “The laundress at Casa Caligine.”

“Imagine a laundress being grateful for her circumstances,” Cordelia said.

I thought of the little shrine that Flavia kept in the laundry, and the sound of the water dripping in the well.

I leaned back in my chair. It was time to ask what I had come here to learn. “Ismene, you told me that you might have some information that might help my search. What do you know?”

She hesitated. “There is a place that women in Corlivo whisper about—”

To my surprise, the gardener appeared suddenly at our table. We hadn’t heard him approaching. Cordelia and Ismene stiffened immediately. Only Nina didn’t look surprised.

“May I join you for a cold drink?” he asked in a quiet voice. “I am hot and tired from my work.”

He was an older man, clean-shaven, with a strong nose, and hair that once had been dark brown but had turned mostly to gray. His muscles were still strong under his sleeveless toga.

“Of course,” Nina said.

Not everyone would have allowed a worker to join them for a cold drink, but then again, Sebastianus made no distinction of that kind at all. I had thought the way he routinely ate with all the members of his household was unique, but perhaps it was more common in Panpirion than I realized.

The man pulled over a chair and placed his basket of tools at his feet. Nina passed him her cup, which was still full. Her fingers touched his as he took it from her, and I suddenly wondered if there was a secret affection between Nina and the gardener. Perhaps that’s why he was so forward as to sit at the table in the Imperator’s absence.

I looked back at Ismene expecting her to continue what she had started to tell me. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Whatever she had to say, she didn’t want to speak in front of this servant.

For a moment, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

“Have you worked here long?” I asked, to break the awkward hush.

“Yes, a long time.” He surveyed me as though I were a hedge that needed trimming.

“Anna lives with the Archidux, the Imperator’s nephew,” Nina said abruptly.

I froze. Only a few moments before, I had asked them all for discretion. Now I would have to worry about whether this servant could be trusted.

Cordelia and Ismene just looked down at their hands.

The man’s face changed suddenly, like a mask sliding into place. “You are living with the Imperator’s nephew?”

I crossed my arms in frustration. Not only was I annoyed at Nina’s indiscretion, but I also wanted this man to leave so I could hear what Ismene had to tell me. “Forgive me, but I don’t need to explain myself to the Imperator’s gardener.”

He raised his cup of lemonade to me with a nod before taking a sip. The fingers that held it were well trimmed and clean. Not a trace of dirt under the nails. An icy feeling spread across my back. This was no gardener.