Mistress of Rome by Kate Quinn Page A

back. He drank off a swallow with his eyes closed, and I drew in a breath at the sight of his arms. Rough, brown, muscular, scarred—
    Gallus still hadn’t seen me. “I’m not averse to giving you your head, dear boy. A little money of your own, perhaps. Roaming privileges in the evenings. But only if you behave yourself, and—”
    I cleared my throat. Gallus gave an irritable glance. “Have you been sent with a gift, girl? Put it over there.”
    “I’m Lady Lepida Pollia,” I said, sweeping my hood back in a gesture that showed off my rings. “And perhaps I have come with a gift. We’ll see.”
    I stole a glance at the Barbarian, but he took another swallow of wine without looking at me. Too dazzled, of course. Gallus bounded to his feet at once, bowing over my hand, offering me a chair, gesturing a slave boy forward to take my cloak. His eyes flicked past me, looking for my father, then looked back again with greater interest.
    “It’s dreadfully hot in here. My fan, Thea.” I patted my forehead, and Thea came forward to hand me my peacock feather fan. The Barbarian was looking at me now, missing nothing, not even Thea as she faded back into the corner. I slouched gracefully, shrugging off my palla so he could admire my white shoulders. “Aren’t you going to wish me a good morning, Barbarian?”
    Gallus nudged him. Arius shrugged. “Good morning.”
    “I see you’ve had other visitors.” I glanced around the room at the gifts sent by besotted fans: silver plate, a cloak of Milesian wool, a tooled sword belt. “My father sent the Falernian wine. I noticed at the banquet that you had a taste for it. Such a discerning palate for a barbarian!”
    “Wine’s wine,” Arius said when Gallus nudged him again.
    I made an airy gesture, showing off my bracelets. “Anyway, I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m leaving for Tivoli tomorrow. I found out that you won’t be fighting again until fall anyway, so I might as well escape the heat.”
    “Quite,” Gallus agreed, passing forward a little plate of candied pears. “No use wasting the Barbarian in the summer games, is there? Paltry little festivals, with the Emperor gone. Now, the Romani games in September . . .”
    “Quite.” Popping one, two, three little candied pear slices into my mouth. “Would you like me to get you a prime spot in the Romani games, Barbarian?”
    Gallus prodded him. Arius looked at me unblinking, and I felt a little thrill. Such a granite face! I’d see it cracked someday.
    “Of course he’d like that, Lady Lepida,” Gallus broke in smoothly. “How kind.”
    I could hardly look at him. Arius folded his sunburned arms across his chest, and I imagined them around me instead. Would he hurt me? I’m sure he would. “Thank you,” I murmured to Gallus. “Of course, if he ever wants to thank me, he should send a message to my father’s house in Tivoli. Thea, my cloak.”
    Thea came forward. Was she staring at his arms, too, imagining them wrapped around her? I rather think she was. I gave Arius a last dazzling smile and took myself away. Gallus was berating him again before the door even shut. “—got that father of hers wrapped around her little finger, so you’ll be polite the next time she—”
    I smiled as we stepped out into the morning sun. “Excellent,” I said. “A pity we’re leaving for Tivoli, but perhaps it’s better that way. Gallus won’t let him fight in the summer games—so the Emperor and everyone will be clamoring for him in the fall. Just like he’ll be clamoring for me.”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “He does want me, you know.” Thinking of that impassive gaze. “Not that he says anything, but he’s never talked to a lady before, has he? Just whores and slave girls, like you. And by the way”—as we crossed the end of the forum back toward my father’s house, dodging round the shouting vendors with their wooden trays—“I shan’t be taking you with me to Tivoli.”
    “My lady?”
    “I’ve