As I search, jealousy coils in the pit of my stomach. I can’t say exactly why. Yes, a flame inexplicably exists between Drusus and me, something he seems to have as little control over as I do, and it burns far hotter than anything that’s ever ignited between me and past lovers. Whatever it is, though, it compares to what he has with Verina like a lamp’s flame compares to the great fire in Rome. He may lust for me, but he loves her, and I’ve seen them ache for each other too obviously to pretend otherwise. The truth is plain, and wanting Drusus for myself won’t change it, no matter how much I wish it would.

And there she is. There’s no mistaking she’s the woman who watched her grandson play with the gladiators of my familia.

She’s beside a jeweler’s stall near the end of the block. There are plenty of women around her, and though I have no trouble picking out the Lady Laurea, it’s impossible to tell her servant from the rest.

Then Verina smiles at the jeweler and moves on to another stall, and a young woman follows her. They stop beside some vendors selling goods out of carts and rickety booths. There, Verina gestures for her servant to wait, and disappears into a butcher’s shop behind the cluster of carts.

While Verina is gone, Lucia strolls through the crowded marketplace, balancing her basket on her hip.

I give the crowd one last look for Calvus or anyone who might be watching myself or the women. When I’m as certain as I can be that I’m alone, I meet Lucia beside a vintner’s cart. “Are you Lucia?”

The woman turns, and fear widens her eyes and straightens her posture. “I . . .”

“I mean you no harm.” I keep my voice low and glance around again. “Are you Lucia, servant to the Lady Laurea?”

Eyes still wide, she draws back a little and nods. “I am.”

I slip the scroll into the basket on her hip. “Give this to the Lady Laurea.”

Lucia looks at the scroll, then at me. “Who shall I say it is from?”

“She’ll know. Tell her nothing except it’s urgent.”

“How can I be certain—”

“Please,” I whisper. “It is very important she get this message. Her and no one else.”

Lucia is still for a moment, eyeing me warily. Then she tucks the message deeper into her basket. “Very well. I’ll give it to her.”

“Thank you.”

I leave her before Verina returns, and I hurry out of the marketplace, putting as much distance as I can between me and that message.

And I pray, with every step I take back to where Arabo waits for me, that this is over.

It’s been just a few days since Drusus sent me to deliver the message to Lucia. I can only hope that now that Verina and Drusus have stopped seeing each other, Calvus will no longer have a reason to be suspicious. Though I’m not sure what my fate will be once he’s finished with me. If he leaves me here, I’m equally doomed; my back will be healed enough for me to return to fighting soon. The familiar ghostly spiders creep up and down my wounded flesh as I try to force the thoughts of my uncertain future from my mind.

I’m still in heavily guarded solitary quarters. I leave only when Drusus summons me or I see the medicus, and today, when I hear Arabo’s heavy footsteps and the rattling shackles in his hands, I fight the urge to retch. One of these outings will result in my return to the regular barracks. To training as a gladiator. To my death.

Arabo takes me to Drusus again, and I know immediately something isn’t right. As the bodyguard unshackles me, Drusus is pacing in front of the chair on which he usually lounges so casually. He says nothing until Arabo leaves and we are alone.

Without looking at me, he says, “I received a message.”

“From whom?” I ask.

“From—” He pauses. “From Verina. She says it’s urgent. Terribly so.” He continues pacing across the floor, cupping his elbow in one hand and gnawing his thumbnail. “She’s never summoned me like this before.”

“With respect, Drusus,” I say, “if the Master Calvus catches—”

“I know the risks,” Drusus snaps. He exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m . . .” He shakes his head. “Look, how much does Calvus Laurea know?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I step away from the door and lower my voice so it won’t carry outside. “He told me only that his wife was having an ongoing affair with a man within this ludus. He didn’t know a name, and he gave me nothing else.”

“And no other politician’s wife has ever bedded a man from this ludus,” Drusus growls. “And paid for the privilege, for that matter.”

“Is it possible . . .” I hesitate.

“Is what possible? Go on, speak.”

“Is it possible Master Calvus knows you’re the one his wife is involved with?”

Drusus halts. His eyes lose focus, and he digs his teeth into his thumbnail. “I . . . suppose. I never thought he knew about it at all, but if he knows she’s . . .” His eyes dart toward me. “If he knows she’s involved with a lanista . . .” He stops, rubbing his forehead and releasing a long breath. “Gods, that must be it. He wouldn’t go to this much trouble if he thought she was just bedding slaves like every other woman in the city.”

Drusus runs an unsteady hand through his short hair. This isn’t the man I’m accustomed to. He’s not calm and eerily collected like always, not poised to offer an unsettling smirk or a threat he’s more than willing to carry out. He’s nervous now. Confused. Uncertain.

“Are you going to meet her?” I ask quietly.

“I have to.” Drusus swallows. “I have to see her.”

“Drusus—”

“I have to,” he whispers with a degree of desperation I never imagined him capable of. “Something is wrong, and I need to see her.”

“And you could be walking into a sharpened blade. Drusus, I know I’m out of place here, but—”

“What choice do I have? I can’t explain everything, but if Verina says it’s urgent, then I need to see her.”

“I can’t stop you. You’re my master.”

“You’re probably wiser on this matter than I am.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead again. “If I lose any more of my sense, I’ll go right to the house of Laurea to see her.”

“I assume she’s asking to meet elsewhere?”

Drusus nods. “At sundown, among the whorehouses by the amphitheatre. It’s a place we’ve met before.” He shifts his gaze toward me. “I don’t dare go alone. I called you in here to ask if you’ll accompany me. As one of my bodyguards.”

“I’m at your command,” I say in spite of the nervous flutter in my stomach. “If you order it—”

“I’m not ordering it.” His voice is soft now, gentle and nearly pleading. “I won’t order you or either of my bodyguards to accompany me for something like this. I can only ask.”

“Yes,” I say. “I will. Of course I will.” I shift my weight. “But I’m not in any condition to fight. Not yet. My back . . .”

Drusus winces. “I know. But Arabo is, and he’s agreed to come with me. Between the three of us . . .”

“Whatever you need me to do, Drusus.”

“Thank you.” He touches my face, and after a moment’s hesitation, rises up on his toes and kisses me. Barely pulling away, he whispers, “This is more dangerous than you probably realize.”

My heart quickens. I don’t know if he means going to see Verina, or if he means . . . this.

Whatever the case, he’s right.

“I know it’s dangerous.” I rest my hand on his leather-covered waist. “But, with respect, why are we . . .” I hesitate. “What of Verina?”

Drusus trails calloused fingertips down the side of my face. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Saevius.” And he kisses me again.

Frustration burrows itself deep in my chest, and I want to shove him away as badly as I want to drag him even closer.

You have Verina, I want to say. Don’t raise my hopes, Drusus. Please . . .

But I kiss him and hold onto him anyway. The breastplate keeps my hands from his skin, so I slide them up to his neck and hold both sides as I kiss him harder. I know, and I’m certain he knows, this can’t last beyond this moment, but I savor it for what it is and as long as it lingers.