Page 16

Her accusations coated Felix’s skin with a sticky veneer. He was none of those things. He was nobody. He was a child of the streets. He had no power, tamed or otherwise, and he wouldn’t allow himself to be used by a god he couldn’t afford to believe in.

Enough .

Destiny was a crock, but when Nonna rose to transfer the dough to the oven and Loren fumbled the tray in the process, Felix took the ensuing scolding as his own divine sign and made a break for it. Stepping off the high pavement, he slipped into the traffic of a city waking from its afternoon nap.

Business as usual. Stalls reopened, goods spread on tables.

Carts trundled past, pulled by cranky mules.

Felix scurried between crowds, ducked under a litter carried by some rich bastard’s servants, pushed through the linked arms of friends.

His pulse crested with the same thrill stealing the helmet earned him.

Nonna could keep her superstition about gods and pawns. Felix paved his own path.

He emerged across the street, victory thrumming. Once he’d reclaimed the helmet, he’d be golden. He only needed—

‘Felix, stop! ’

His mistake was turning to look.

A flustered Loren, halfway across a set of crossing stones, swayed on his feet.

And collapsed.

Felix froze. This was his chance to leave, to break from Pompeii at last. The precious seconds he’d waste doubling back would be better spent rushing to the brothel to collect his prize.

Besides, by the time he could pick his way over, Loren would have recovered, stood, brushed off dirt.

Or someone else would stop to help. Felix didn’t owe Loren anything.

But he watched, and no one spared Loren a second glance as a cart careened towards the intersection.

Cursing through gritted teeth, Felix flew for the street corner, bursting through onlookers.

A gap in the crowd revealed Loren on his knees, palms pressed against stone, the same fainting spell that had toppled him the day before, when Felix pantomimed wearing the helmet. Dehydration, exhaustion or something worse. Something Felix didn’t want to consider.

Loren straightened as Felix hopped across the stones. Their eyes locked, Loren’s wide and unfocused. Tugging him up by his underarms, Felix hauled them both to safety just before the cart, manned by a distracted driver, rumbled over the crossing .

He had no chance to catch his breath before Loren took the lead in a panic, dragging him into an alcove, crammed nearly chest to chest. The nearness made Felix itch.

‘Look,’ Loren hissed. He gestured to the road opposite the intersection.

Twin swathes of scarlet hung vibrant and vicious half a block away. The capes belonged to a pair of armoured men stalking down the street – Darius, the statesman’s guard, and a comrade. Neither had noticed the commotion of Loren collapsing.

‘Is that’ – Loren panted in Felix’s ear – ‘the soldier? Who chased you?’

Felix squinted at the guards, blood turning cold. ‘I was headed down that street. I would have run right into them.’

‘Gods,’ was all Loren managed before he slumped to the ground.

Darius and his partner turned out of sight. Felix looked to Loren. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, I . . .’ In an instant, he snapped back to himself. His crossed eyes refocused. ‘Are you?’

‘I’m not the one who passed out.’

‘From the heat.’

‘I hadn’t seen them,’ Felix said. ‘But you knew. You warned me. How?’

‘I didn’t,’ Loren said weakly. ‘You were running away. I only meant to – to stop you. Our agreement.’

‘Loren,’ Felix insisted, but he had nothing else to say. This mad, impulsive boy had foreseen danger and saved him. No one ever stuck their neck out to help him. ‘Thank you. For that.’

At first, Loren looked confused. Then his eyes widened. ‘ I did that. I changed what I . . . I did that .’ He leaped up and stumbled from the alcove, wobbly as a hastily made table. ‘Come on. We should go.’

‘Not back to Nonna.’ Felix planted his feet. ‘Anywhere else. ’

‘But . . . I had more to ask.’

‘Then go alone. Leave me here and ask her whatever you want.’

A stalemate. Felix knew Loren wouldn’t leave him alone. Too many of his escape attempts lay between them, spoiling any naive trust Loren had ever held.

‘I . . . suppose we should avoid the market for now, with the guards.’ Loren’s mouth pinched. ‘But Felix . . . if questions alone make you uncomfortable, how will you react when we find answers?’

Loren staggered away – opposite Nonna’s shop and away from the statesman’s guards. Felix waited a beat longer, feeling stung. He’d won this round, but Loren’s parting remark landed like a slap.

With a sigh, Felix followed. Tonight. He’d leave tonight.

After he made sure Loren didn’t trip into traffic again.

In the Forum, Loren exchanged coins with a stall-keeper for two hunks of honeycomb, dripping with syrup.

He presented one to Felix, who let it melt on his tongue and leave his fingers delightfully sticky.

Then they hurried to the harbour to watch the last ships of the day sail in, as far from the market and its wandering guards as Pompeii permitted.

A wooden dock stretched over the water. The tide was up, and when Felix sat beside Loren on the boards, his toes skimmed cool water.

‘Nonna told me once that the coastline changes,’ Loren said. ‘A thousand years ago, where we sit now was deep underwater. Maybe in another thousand, the water won’t be here at all.’ Honey trickled down his wrist, and he chased it with his tongue.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Felix tore his gaze away. ‘Sounds like horseshit. How would she know?’

‘Old people know things.’ Loren shrugged. ‘I wonder if we should tell her we have the helmet.’

Felix stared. ‘Did you hit your head when you fell?’

‘It’s only that I can’t stop thinking about what she said, that the thief must be a pawn of Mercury. That Mercury wanted it moved. ’

‘I don’t give a shit about what Mercury wants.

I took it because the payout was worth the risk.

’ Should be worth the risk, Felix amended privately, if he could ever sell the thing without meddling statesmen and temple boys interfering.

‘You keep asking questions, implying wild ideas, but you aren’t satisfied with the answers I can give.

The helmet was shiny. I’m a thief. I take shiny things. Why can’t that be answer enough?’

‘Because. Because . . .’ Loren squeezed his eyes shut.

Across the harbour, a dockworker shouted something crass at a ship coming in to port.

‘It simply can’t. Look at every myth out there.

When humans act on behalf of the gods, it’s in ways that bring about their own ruin.

If Mercury willed you to take the helmet, we could work with that.

We could figure out why before the consequences worsen. ’

‘That’s another thing. You’re convinced there must be consequences. What if there aren’t? What if you let me take it and run?’

‘There are always consequences when mortals cross paths with gods. Icarus ignored the warnings and flew too close to the sun. Achilles wouldn’t fight when ordered, and his pride cost him Patroclus. Hercules—’

‘Stop,’ Felix snapped. ‘I’m not Hercules. Or Achilles. I’m just Felix.’

‘If I can’t figure out how to stop what’s coming,’ Loren said, voice small but serious, ‘you’ll be Patroclus. Dead while wearing another’s helmet.’

‘Shit choice of a metaphor. I don’t know who that is.’

‘Achilles’s lover? Be serious. You haven’t read The Iliad ?’ When Felix arched a brow, Loren had the decency to look sheepish. ‘I could teach you, you know. I’ve done it before.’

Felix only grunted, but his plan had worked.

He felt a sting of guilt for derailing the conversation on purpose, anything to steer away from the damn helmet and the damn gods and the doom and gloom Loren seemed adamant was destined, all because Felix had done what thieves do.

But Loren was so easily distracted, he would have lost his train of thought soon anyway.

‘Might expand your vocabulary at the least.’ Loren kicked at the water. ‘I have a scrap of the poem I can show you, though it’s in Greek and my tutor couldn’t read a lick of it. I had to teach myself. The piece isn’t anything special, but it’s the part I liked best. You know Achilles, then?’

‘Everyone knows Achilles,’ said Felix.

‘Well, yes—’

‘Is it a battle scene?’

‘Well, no—’

‘A sex scene.’

‘ No ,’ Loren said, and – yes, there. That agitated flush, spreading from his cheeks down his neck.

Satisfied, Felix sat back, resting his weight on his palms, face tilted towards the sun.

The angle strained his stitches, but the warmth was nice.

A gull let out a sharp cry as it soared overhead, shadow distorted on the waves.

‘All right,’ he relented. ‘Tell me.’

Loren huffed. ‘You’re mocking me.’

‘I swear, I’m not.’ Maybe a little. ‘Go on.’

Drawing a knee to his chest, Loren propped his chin. He still scowled, but he started talking, and his brow smoothed again, as though their spat over the helmet had never happened. Felix wished he could be so forgiving. Or forgetful about anything except what mattered.

‘Most wouldn’t call it exciting, but to me .

. . Did you know Achilles played the lyre?

He could hush a room with his talent, but the other men only wanted him for battle.

Except Patroclus. In this scene, Patroclus sits and listens, the two alone in their tent.

Their own shelter from a storm they only knew the start of. ’

‘That’s all? Of the entire story, that’s the only scene you kept?’

‘You are mocking me. ’

Felix straightened too quickly. ‘No. It’s nice, but it is strange. Why that part?’

‘I think I’d like that, someday. That intimacy.’ Loren tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. ‘I know I tend to talk a lot. Too much. For once, I want someone who won’t mind listening.’

Felix eyed Loren as he gazed at the waves, his straight-nosed, sharp-cheekboned profile that begged to be immortalised in marble.

The hem of his grey tunic had hitched up his thigh.

Felix refused to notice. A breeze wafted in the sharp tang of brine and ruffled Loren’s hair free again.

Everything about Loren was free, and none of Felix’s feelings made sense.

His fingers twitched. Tucking the strand back would be one of those simple gestures. Easy for anyone. Steeling his nerves, Felix reached. Then froze, mortified, when Loren caught the movement and turned, eyes big.

‘What are you . . .?’

Felix’s hand dropped back to his lap. ‘You were staring at the water as if considering jumping in. I don’t want to be blamed if you drown yourself.’

‘Stop exaggerating.’ Loren let out a breathless laugh and clambered up, tunic draping back down his legs. ‘Come on, I bet those guards are long gone. Let’s get dinner.’

Boards creaked as Loren dashed away.

Easy for anyone, except Felix.

He felt again the pressure of Pompeii closing in, the sensation of being cornered by more than just guards.

The longer he stayed here, listening to Loren talk about gods and heroes, about consequences and a doomed future, and all the things Felix fought to ignore but Loren implored him to confront, the more Felix wondered . . .

He stopped his straying thoughts. That path was littered with broken rules .

One last meal, and he’d leave for good, like he should have that afternoon.

Squinting against the red sunset, apprehension spiking for the night ahead, he followed Loren’s chatter back into the thick of Pompeii.