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“He’s of an age where he should fight his own battles,” Felix said. “His mother intervening will only make things wor—” He broke off as she rotated the knife, causing the point to dig into his skin.

The gentleness in his tone made her teeth grind together. Who did he think he was, to be giving her parenting advice? As if he knew Marcus better than she did.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I was only trying to help him. I was the target of bullies too.”

Lucretia narrowed her eyes. It was difficult to think of Felix as a child, much less one who was bullied, rather than the aloof, assured master of trade he was now.

There was only one thing further she had to hear from him before she could truly relent.

She withdrew the knife slightly, to give him some breathing room, and watched his face carefully.

His reaction to her next question would tell her everything she needed to know.

“I know some men…” Her stomach churned at even the thought of what she was suggesting, and she struggled to find the words. “Boys his age…”

“If you truly think me capable of that, then kill me now.” His voice was low and fierce.

She met his eyes, gray as storm clouds. In all of their dealings, no matter the enmity between them, Felix had never lied to her. He had always been forthright to a fault, whether propositioning her at a party or informing her that he was going to do everything in his power to destroy her business.

Now, when it mattered most, she believed him…much as she might want an excuse to make him bleed.

She lowered the knife. Felix clapped a hand to his wounded arm, wincing. The danger was past—in fact it had never really existed in the first place—but Lucretia’s breath was still choppy, and her knees shook. She took a step away from Felix, bracing herself against the opposite wall of the alley.

Felix reached for her, as if to steady her, but she shied away.

“ Don’t touch me.” The last thing she needed was support from the man who had been spending time with her son behind her back.

It was clear that Marcus liked Felix, even regarded him with a respect he’d never shown her.

It felt like a betrayal, like a knife twisting in her gut.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Felix said.

She shot him a scorching glare, even as she felt like she was about to vomit. “You will stay away from him. I will speak with him myself and forbid him from seeing you, but if he should disobey, you are not to engage with him.”

“I fear that will only make him—”

She raised a hand, and Felix broke off. She was not here to listen to his opinions on how to raise her son.

“Very well,” he conceded. “I will have nothing further to do with him.”

“Good. Now leave.”

Felix left the alley, clasping a hand to his bleeding arm. She felt no remorse for wounding him. In fact, it had been extremely satisfying.

She took a deep breath, still in the grip of the terror and rage that had come upon her when she thought Marcus was in danger. She leaned back against the wall, attempting to find steadiness in its cool solidity.

But anger still pulsed through her, prickly and scorching. She was angry at Felix, of course, but there was an undercurrent of resentment toward Marcus as well. And beneath even that…she was angry at herself.

She must have done something wrong for Marcus to go to Felix of all people with his problems instead of her. Even though Marcus didn’t know the extent of her rivalry with Felix, he’d still preferred to confide in a stranger instead of his own mother.

Maybe she’d been too focused on her business. She often put in long hours at her office, after all. She’d thought Marcus was of an age where he appreciated some independence, but perhaps she should have been more mindful. Paid more attention.

It had been different when Cornelius was alive. Then, he’d been the one who wasn’t there—either out for the day at the office or away for weeks on voyages. Lucretia had spent nearly all her waking hours with Marcus, except for when he started attending school. She’d known him, then.

Now, it felt as if she didn’t know him at all. He’d turned into a surly, secret-keeping stranger. The pain of it sat heavy and aching in her chest.

And then there was Felix. Marcus might be able to plead some plausible ignorance of how things stood, but Felix knew exactly who Marcus was.

She couldn’t help but believe he’d had some sort of ulterior motive.

He must have been nurturing this strange friendship with Marcus in the hopes of finding out something that could further his efforts to destroy her.

Rage flared. She needed to exact retribution, both for this as well as Felix’s continued attempts to stymie her trade activities. Just last week, he had stolen one of her most trusted captains by offering a ridiculous wage.

It was time to enlist the help of a force more powerful than herself: the gods.

Lucretia believed she was in good standing with all the important deities.

She observed all the proper rites, paid for regular sacrifices each month, and donated to the upkeep of various temples.

She directed most of her piety toward Neptune, god of the sea, and prayed every day for the safety of the men who crewed her ships.

Now, it was time to make good on that devotion.

She was going to put a curse on Felix.

Lucretia emerged from the alley and walked to the nearest temple, outside of which she purchased a thin sheet of lead roughly the size of her hand along with an iron nail. She borrowed a sharp stylus from the seller, with which she inscribed a careful message on the surface of the lead.

From Lucretia of the Cornelii to the divine Neptune. I ask that you visit your wrath upon Lucius Avitus Felix so that he ceases in his efforts against me. In return, I will fund the sacrifice of three fine pigs, the fattest that can be found, in honor of your majesty .

She read the message over. For a moment, she wondered if she should be more specific about exactly what kind of “wrath” she was requesting, but decided to leave it up to the god. It wouldn’t do to be too prescriptive.

When she was satisfied with the wording of her curse, she rolled the lead sheet into a tight scroll and hammered the nail into it. She handed the curse seller an extra bronze coin for his help, then walked toward the harbor.

The curse felt heavy and smooth in her hand. She had never cast a curse before, and she held the item gingerly, as if it were already imbued with Neptune’s power.

Curses were supposed to be deposited somewhere deep, like the bottom of a well or buried in the ground. The sea had to be deep enough, Lucretia reckoned, and it seemed more likely that it would catch Neptune’s attention this way.

When she reached the harbor, she walked out onto the furthest dock.

The waves lapped gently at the side of the wooden structure, and the sun was just beginning to set, casting a fiery glow over the water.

She tightened her fingers around the curse, drew back her arm, and threw it as hard as she could into the sea.

When the tiny scroll of lead disappeared beneath the waves, Lucretia released a breath. It was done. Now, she had only to wait for the gods to do their work.