“Well, Saevius?” Lucius asks sharply. “What’s your business with the master?”

“My business with the master is whatever the master demands of me.” I lower my chin and my voice. “If he’s so taken with me, then why does he take me behind closed doors to remind me he’s watching me? And that if I make another wrong move, I’ll be lucky if I leave the pit alive after my next visit?”

The men exchange glances.

“He suspects you’re the one?” Quintus asks.

“Apparently so.” I drain my water, slam the ladle back onto the rack, and glare at each of the men in turn. “And by the Furies, if it’s one of you, and I take a single lash on your behalf, you’ll wish you’d come forward the day Drusus found the scroll.”

Philosir and Quintus draw back. Lucius and Iovita exchange looks again.

“You really think it’s one of us?” Lucius asks with just enough amusement to make me want to cut his throat.

I shrug. “Well, who else would it be?”

“Could be anyone,” Quintus says. “Don’t have to be an auctoratus.”

“So what if a bunch of us contracted at once?” Philosir says. “Could be any of the men taking advantage of Drusus being suspicious of us.”

“Could be any man indeed.” Iovita turns to me. “So why is Drusus so suspicious of you?”

I look right back at him. “I don’t know, Iovita. Why is he?”

His eyebrows jump. “How would I know?”

“How would I?” I shrug again. “If I fucking knew, I’d tell him to watch one of you lot and leave me in peace.”

They all stare at me. The noise all around us continues, but here beside the water trough, everyone is silent.

Then Iovita laughs, and all the others follow suit. After a moment, so do I.

“Tell him to leave you in peace?” He shakes his head. “I’d cut off a limb to see that, Saevius.”

“Aye,” Quintus says. “Make sure we’re all there for that one.”

I chuckle, but say nothing.

Gods, watch over me.

Verina and Kaeso return to the ludus a few days after the conclusion of the games. As soon as the gates are open, the boy yanks his hand away from his grandmother and sprints from the litter into the training yard. Verina shakes her head and laughs, following him into the ludus.

The men show off their wounds from the arena to Kaeso, who inspects every bruise and suture with all the wide-eyed fascination a young boy can muster. He laughs at outlandish tales of minor scratches being the work of wild leopards and bruises coming from hand-to-hand combat with men twice their size.

“You don’t believe me?” Hasdrubal scoffs, feigning offense. “Here, lad, let me show you how he got me.” He hands Kaeso a wooden sword and a small, round shield, and then leads the boy into one of the sparring circles.

“Keep your guard up, lad.” He grins at the boy and taps his shield with another wooden sword. “Protect yourself. Arms, legs, everything.”

Verina smiles as she watches Kaeso playfully spar with the men, and I surreptitiously watch her. She’s never betrayed any emotion here in the ludus, but Calvus insists there’s a man who has her affections. Gods help her if it’s true; gods help me if it isn’t.

Then she turns her head, and her expression changes. She sees someone I cannot, someone just outside my line of sight. It’s clear because the moment she looks, her smile wilts and her eyes fill with pure, painful longing.

My heart beats faster. So Calvus was right. There is a man here at the ludus who’s drawn her away from her husband.

Careful not to bring attention to myself, I let my gaze slide in the direction the woman is looking, searching for the object of her attention.

He steps out from behind the wall that had blocked him from me and not Verina, and in an instant, my blood turns cold.

Drusus.

Drusus is the one?

No, maybe it’s one of the bodyguards. Perhaps Verina is involved with one of them.

But then Drusus stops. His lips pull into a thin line.

He isn’t looking at her, though. He watches Hasdrubal and the boy. Once, his eyes dart toward Verina, and perhaps I’ve spent too much time cataloging every nuance of Drusus’s face and expressions, but even from twenty paces, the pain in his eyes is palpable. I swear I can see the ache beneath his ever-present leather armor.

Abruptly, Drusus gestures at his bodyguards, and as one, the three of them turn and go back the way they came.

As soon as they’re gone, Verina purses her lips and releases a breath before she turns her attention back to her grandson.

Oh gods . . .

I pull my own attention away and go to the water trough to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. I cannot be sure until I’ve seen something more than a couple of exchanged glances. If I breathe a single word of suspicion to Calvus, Drusus will be killed, and if I hint to Drusus that I have any reason to care that he’s involved with Verina, then it’s my throat on the line.

But it makes sense now. Calvus must have had some suspicion she was involved with Drusus, or with some other man besides a gladiator. He knew somehow that her lover wasn’t a slave, and no man of his stature, especially not one as volatile as Calvus, will stand for his wife cavorting with a citizen or a freedman. Especially one as lowly as a lanista.

A lanista and a citizen like Drusus.

And where does this leave me? The game has changed since Calvus sent me into this ludus, and there are two men involved who won’t hesitate to spill blood if they’re crossed. My blood, or each other’s.

In the beginning, my task was simple. Find Verina’s lover, give his name to Calvus, and be done with it. But that was before I suspected the lover’s name was Drusus, and before Drusus ceased to be the legendary lanista and instead became a man I’ve learned to respect. A man whose respect I have also gained. Along with, perhaps, something more than that.

Give me a single reason to believe you’re not doing precisely as I’ve ordered, Calvus’s whisper raises gooseflesh on my arms, or that you’ve breathed my name within the walls of the ludus, and I will see to it the magistrate asks Drusus if he received the full seven hundred sestertii. Am I understood?

I may have gained the respect of Drusus, but like Calvus, he won’t tolerate theft or deceit from any man. Particularly not from a man he’s entrusted with finding out who in the familia is deceiving him.

But if Drusus is the man fucking Verina . . .

I blow out a breath. I can’t do or say anything until I’m absolutely certain, which means I’ll have to follow him. I’ve seen him leave the ludus alone, so he’ll likely do it again.

All I can do is watch and wait.

And what if my suspicions are correct? Then what?

Gods, give me wisdom. Which man do I betray?

Drusus comes and goes from the ludus. Sometimes alone, sometimes with his bodyguards, but usually while I’m sparring and can’t follow him without drawing attention to myself. I keep an eye on the back gate, though, watching for him to leave on his own, and finally he does while I’m between matches.

I slip out of the yard and follow him through the gate. He looks back every few paces, checking beside and behind him, but he doesn’t see me. There are enough people out and about that I can easily duck between them and keep myself hidden from his view. The streets are not so crowded that I lose sight of Drusus, not so empty I stand out to him.

The streets fan away from the Forum and into the market, and in the space of half a city block, the crowd goes from thin enough to camouflage me to thick and chaotic. Drusus disappears, reappears, disappears again. I think I’ve lost him once, but a flicker of movement puts him back where I can see him, and I continue following him.