Page 26

With clanging and chanting, the crowd shoved into the Forum, where those who hadn’t attended the games had staked an early claim to the festival space.

Umbrius tottered up the cracked marble steps of the Temple of Jupiter.

Under his breath, he grumbled about bloody renovations and damned earthquakes and spoiled little boys named Numerius Popidius Celsinus, whose father picked the wrong temple to sponsor.

Julia nudged Loren, and with a nervous backward glance, he left her side to join the elite men on Umbrius’s tail.

‘I can see Camilia,’ came a child’s voice from Loren’s side, ‘and she looks like she wants to cut your balls off.’

Loren jumped. Celsi himself had appeared from nowhere, his short legs working hard to keep stride. Chalk powdered his black curls, and dirt smeared his toga. Celsi met Loren’s surprised stare with a haughty lift of his chin, then nodded to a shaded space beneath the portico.

Camilia’s familiar cropped fringe nearly masked her angry brows, but she wasn’t the only one glaring.

The Priest of Isis leaned heavily on his walking stick, a deep frown underscoring the grooves in his face.

Sera and Shani, at least, were too preoccupied bickering with each other to direct their ire elsewhere.

Loren’s insides turned to lead. He raised his hand halfway, a meagre apology, but the Priest only shook his head. Camilia sneered. She spun on her heel and disappeared, and Loren’s heart dipped.

But against the shame came an indignant spark. The gap the Isis temple workers expected him to fill had never been Loren-shaped. It’d been cut for someone else, long before he came to Pompeii. And when the Priest turned him away, Julia opened her arms.

Everything was poised to fall into place, so long as Loren played the game right, solved the ghost’s riddles, saved the city. He would prove what his visions were worth, and once Felix left, Loren would sign Julia’s contract.

When his father tried to drag him home, Loren would be untouchable.

‘Look, you’ve made them angry,’ Celsi chirped. ‘How does it feel to be an utter disappointment?’

‘Charmed to see you, too, Celsi.’

The child grabbed Loren’s hand. To anyone else, it might’ve looked sweet, like a pair of brothers. The sharp dig of his nails told the truth.

‘I don’t know why you’re here,’ Celsi said, ‘but you aren’t good enough to be.’

‘Aurelia is right about you. You’re a little beast.’

‘Careful.’ Celsi pinched deeper. ‘You won’t take my place on the council if that’s your plan. My father paid for my chair. Sitting pretty with Spinster Julia won’t get you anywhere.’

Loren sighed, despite it all. ‘I’m not trying to take your place.’

‘Really?’ Big eyes swam through Celsi’s lashes. Then he stomped on Loren’s toes. ‘Because you’ve done it before. I could have had both, you know. Isis and Jupiter. Until you came along.’

Pain radiated from Loren’s trampled foot, and he gritted his teeth. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’

‘Camilia always liked me better. Even now, you’re nothing but my replacement.

’ Celsi squeezed Loren’s hand one last time and pulled away, ducking to the other side of the procession line as they reached the wide-flung temple doors.

Loren itched to chase after him, but the weight of Julia’s expectations held him back.

The Temple of Jupiter was grand and regal, and Pompeii’s most important worshipped here.

Loren only visited at his most desperate, when he play-acted having status, but under the stern eyes of Jupiter’s statue, he always felt like nobody.

Even now, bundled in his expensive toga, Loren couldn’t shake the heavy shadow cast by the king of the gods, flanked by Minerva and Juno.

Swallowing his discomfort, he trailed after Umbrius to the altar and tapped his shoulder.

Umbrius did a double take. ‘You again. What is it? No more talk of funding now.’

‘N-no. Julia told me to help you, if permissible.’

Umbrius grunted. ‘About time she took an interest in the temple. Very well. You may hold the cage. Celsinus, pass it over.’

Celsi had materialised from nowhere, clutching a wicker trap holding a deeply unhappy raven. At Umbrius’s command, Celsi’s face screwed up. Loren could tell he wanted to argue. Or cry. Or strangle the bird.

‘That isn’t necessary,’ Loren protested, but Umbrius gestured again, and Celsi shoved the cage into Loren’s arms. He stomped off, little sandals slapping against stone.

The raven cawed, beady eyes glittering, and Loren fought back an uneasy twist.

‘Father Jupiter,’ Umbrius rumbled. His words blanketed the assembly with a hush. ‘As we offered food, wine and bloodshed, let us now reveal your gracious will.’

He carried on, rattling demands: prosperity for the city, a respite from the heat, the earth to cease its quivering, the helmet to reappear, its thief to meet swift justice. On and on through Pompeii’s many problems. At its end, Umbrius issued a cue, and Loren fiddled the cage’s latch.

When the ground lurched, it was almost unsurprising.

Almost. Startled, Loren dropped the cage, and its door sprang free. The spooked raven soared for the ceiling. Umbrius stared, stunned. Then the earth rolled again, and any scolding he intended to lay upon Loren for his fumble lost its urgency.

Nervous chatter erupted as men abandoned their piety, stumbling for shelter or gripping another’s arms for stability.

Stone rumbled, tiles splintering. A crack cleaved marble in two.

Torches flickered with the threat of falling.

The statue of Minerva lost her grip on her spear, and it tilted at a precarious angle.

Loren stood rooted in place, heart kicking, even as Umbrius fled the altar.

This was normal. This was no different from the quake two days ago. Two weeks ago. Two months.

Across the panicked room, Loren locked eyes with Felix’s.

Even disguised in a bulky palla and scarf, there was no mistaking Felix’s storm-cloud stare. He leaned against the back wall of the temple, partially hidden by a column. The lines of his face were rigid. Hollow. In the half shadow, juxtaposed with white marble, nearly ghostly.

What had Nonna said about the helmet thief? Dream-walker. Plane-crosser.

Closer to the dead than the living.

Loren’s stomach hit the floor.

Nearly smacking into Celsi, who’d picked that moment to dart across the room, Loren beelined over unstable ground, trepidation spiking. If something had happened . . .

He herded Felix around the far side of the column.

‘Where is it?’ Loren hissed, searching Felix up and down, as though the helmet might be hidden beneath the drape of his shawl. ‘What did you do?’

‘What?’ Felix spluttered. ‘Nothing – I didn’t . . .’

Rationality snapped back into place, quickly as the earth settled underfoot.

Of course Felix wouldn’t have the helmet.

He valued his skin too much to parade around with it, he’d said as much.

Loren simmered down, though his insides still quivered like an aftershock.

Amidst it all, relief spread. Relief that Felix was here.

Was still Felix . Loren’s hungry eyes devoured him in the fresh light, cheeks a human hue, mouth softly sceptical. No ghosts here.

They stood awfully close. Heat rolled off Felix. With a flush, Loren recalled the near-press from his dream last night, the space between their bodies a mere fraction. How badly he’d wanted to bridge that gap. How he still did, even awake.

‘Coincidence,’ Loren admitted, hoping torchlight concealed his fluster.

‘Thought you didn’t believe in those.’ Felix hitched his shawl higher on his shoulder.

A man’s loud laugh echoed through the temple, Pompeii pressing on, as always.

But this time, the energy had shifted in a way Loren couldn’t pinpoint.

Even though Umbrius had ended the ceremony, high-ranking men lingered all over, murmuring in clusters.

Agitation coloured their voices in a way Loren had never heard.

Partially hidden by the column wasn’t good enough. Eyes and ears were everywhere.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Loren whispered. ‘Someone could see.’

‘Embarrassed to be spotted with me? Worried I might damage your reputation?’

‘I’m worried about you. You’re meant to be lying low. Surely this can wait.’

Across the courtyard, Umbrius cracked open a barrel of wine. Now was Loren’s opportunity to talk to him about the helmet. About his visions.

‘Not this.’ Felix’s stare pierced Loren to his core. ‘I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important. I found something that will change whatever you’re planning. About Julia. And – it .’

Wine cascaded from the barrel, pooling ruby on tile, and nervous mutters turned to cheers.

Umbrius toasted the sky and threw back a swallow.

Loren was torn. Julia had done exactly as she promised: granted him the opportunity he desperately craved.

He’d be a fool not to take it. But Felix had come here, despite the risks, despite his distrust of temples.

He’d sought Loren out. For once, Felix wanted to help Loren’s search for answers rather than hinder it.

It startled Loren how frightened that made him, but his choice, when it came to it, was no choice at all.

Tomorrow. Loren would find a way to speak with Umbrius tomorrow, away from shaking ground and watchful eyes. Felix needed Loren now. The rest could wait.

As he beckoned Felix to follow, a flash of movement caught Loren’s attention. From the next column over, Celsi was dashing for the exit, but skidded to a stop. Suspicious eyes landed on Loren, then snapped to Felix.

‘Celsi—’ Loren started, but it was too late. Celsi fled.

‘That’s the little boy Aurelia is friends with,’ Felix said. ‘I ruined their game of marbles. Do you think he heard much?’

Loren shook his head, even as his tongue dried. ‘Come on. Tell me outside.’

Surely they hadn’t said anything implicative. He didn’t know about any marbles game, but something in the way Celsi had stared at Felix made Loren’s hair stand on end.

It was the type of look that said I know a secret you don’t.