Reluctantly, I flipped open the lid of my trunk. In one corner, beneath the heavy cloak Ajani had given me on my first night at the ludus, there was a small folded pile of shimmery fabric: the costume Charon’s women had dressed me in for the slave auction. As I gazed at the thing, the memory of that day—it seemed like a thousand more had passed since—came rushing back, washing over me like an incoming tide.
“You kept yours too?” Elka said wryly.
I laughed at her expression. “Is this a very bad idea?”
“You know we’re slaves, ja?” she said plainly. “If anyone catches us out, they’ll think we’re running. We’ll be flogged.”
“This is a very bad idea.”
And yet neither of us was about to back out. Sorcha could try and keep me safe from death, but she couldn’t keep me from living my life. And if I wasn’t competing for Victory, it wasn’t as if I had anything to lose. A reckless thrill surged in my heart at the thought of disobeying her, and it must have shown in the expression on my face.
Elka sighed. “I’ll go get dressed.”
I undid my braid and combed out the waves of my hair so it hung loosely over my shoulders. Then I slipped into my auction dress and fastened the shoulder brooches, belting the ensemble with a pretty fringed scarf someone had thrown me from the stands after one of my winning bouts on the circuit.
Elka and I met Nyx down by the scullery, and Lydia was with her. Nyx was dressed in an elegant pale yellow stola that fastened with silver brooches at her shoulders and left her toned arms bare. Her long black hair was dressed off her face with silver combs. Lydia wore blue, a necklace of amber beads, and an abundance of eye paint. We were all cloaked and hooded, and I was trembling with apprehension and excitement.
Nyx inserted a key into the big iron lock on the wooden door that led out to a back alley. I didn’t ask where she got it, but it wasn’t hard to guess. I’d noticed a handsome young kitchen slave making eyes at her when we’d first arrived, and Nyx was nothing if not resourceful. Again, that much was evident by the skin of wine she produced from beneath the folds of her cloak. Threading the narrow streets, we headed toward the Caelian Hill, where Rome’s wealthy patrician families had built many lavish residences that looked far more like palaces than houses.
“You can’t be all uptight on a night like this,” Nyx said, passing the wineskin to Elka, who expertly tilted her head back and shot a stream of red liquid down her throat. “Ha! That’s it. You drink like an Amazon!”
“Fight like one too.” Elka wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Better not let Thalestris hear you say that.” Nyx grinned as Elka handed her back the wine. “She’s touchy on the subject, seeing as how her mighty Amazon sister embarrassed the whole bloody tribe, distinguishing herself as the first ever gladiatrix to get killed. And by our own Lanista, no less!”
She offered the wine to me, and rolled her eyes when I hesitated. I stifled a sigh and reached for the skin. The wine was unwatered, rich and sweet. Nyx must have pilfered the expensive stuff, I thought. I took another long swallow and handed it back.
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking around at the unfamiliar buildings that loomed above the dark streets. We’d barely passed a soul, and most of the windows were shuttered tight. If not for the almost full moon above, it would have been like walking through ink-black fog.
“We’re going to the Domus Corvinus, up on the Caelian Hill,” Nyx explained. “It’s owned by a very rich nobleman who has far more money than he knows what to do with and doesn’t want to leave any of it to his greedy relatives. So he spends it all on these extravagant spreads and invites all of his friends, and everyone goes a little mad. His cooks make all sorts of outlandish dishes like monkey tongues and stewed starfish. And the entertainment is extraordinary!”
I wondered what constituted extraordinary entertainment at a Roman feast. I thought back to the gatherings my father used to host where the young men of the tribes would compete to see who could leap over the tallest bonfire flames and the bards dueled each other in song, shaping words and music beautiful enough to break hearts. Where the women would dance barefoot across a floor of naked swords . . .
My steps faltered as a wave of homesickness swept over me, and I stopped in the middle of the street. I was outside the ludus, unguarded, at night . . . what was there to stop me from running away?
But even as the thought crossed my mind, I wondered if I could bear to lose my sister again. Thalestris said Sorcha would go mad with grief if she thought something had happened to me.
After everything she’s put me through? I thought. It would serve her right.
Even in the darkness, I could probably manage to head in the general direction of the Capitoline Hill. And I could smell the river. But if I got lost and wound up in the Aventine district, then I was in trouble. The Aventine—so we’d been warned—wasn’t a part of the city to get lost in.
“Come on, Fallon!” Nyx exclaimed suddenly, reaching for my hand. “Don’t be such a tortoise! We’re in Rome. This is the most amazing city in the world, and we’ll never get another chance to experience it like this. It’ll be fun—you’ll see!”