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I turned around to see the matron watching us with a frown.

“I think our rest is over.” I squeezed Kyra’s hand, and we plunged back into the crowd.

I COULDN’T REMEMBER a time in my life when Kyra hadn’t been by my side. In the absence of any blood relations, she was the nearest thing I had to a sister, but our natures were not alike. While I spent hours dreaming about possibilities far beyond the city walls, she was content with the day-to-day things that made up our lives: the feel of the sun on her face in summertime, warm bread fresh from the oven, a merry tune on the bells, the soft silk of a dress, a funny story. She loved coziness and familiarity. She was gentler and worried more.

We had been raised together in one of the many nurseries within the city walls. At the age of six we were sent to the Schola Morum, the famous training school, where we lived with all the other girls destined for a courtesan’s life. We told each other stories, whispering together in the dark about the grand lives we would lead when we were old enough to mingle with visitors from every corner of the Empire. Our lessons shaped us into charming companions; we learned how to dance gracefully, arrange lilies, sing, play the bells, make engaging conversation at dinner, and greet noblemen with the proper courtesy. We were made to believe that we were lucky to have been chosen for such an honor, and when our training ended, we prayed dutifully before the basalt statue of the great mountain Goddess. We gazed up in awe at her solemn features: unblinking eyes, carved waves of hair, arms hugging the contours of her curved body.

We had been taught that ours was a city of marvels, a place where honestiores, the Empire’s privileged, came to refresh themselves: to hear the musicians play, to see the theater, the acrobats, the beasts of the circus. It wasn’t until much later that we realized that we, and not any of these things, were the great commodity of Corlivo. We were what made the mountain city the wonder of the Empire.

AN HOUR LATER I was footsore from standing on the flagstones in my thin slippers. Kyra and I had long since gotten separated by the flow of people and conversation, her dark curls swallowed up by the crowd. My face hurt from smiling. All around me, courtesans flirted and the few apprentices made nervous conversation with potential bidders. Guests talked about all of us, about the similar demonstrations happening in other pleasure houses, and about events that seemed too far away to matter: unrest in the capital, legions of soldiers on the borders, the Imperator and his lowborn wife, and the strange religion the two of them were promoting everywhere. What did I know about these distant things? Standing beside a table with crystal pitchers of water, I breathed and savored my third cool cup. We were almost through it.

A figure in a navy-blue toga came toward me. To my surprise, it was a woman. Her dark hair was wound into a simple braid.

My face must have revealed my confusion, because the woman smiled. “Have you never seen a woman in a toga?”

I hastily swallowed the last of my water. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Indeed, there is.” She touched my cheek with her soft hand. “As I’m learning, here in Corlivo, there’s something for everyone’s taste. I can hardly believe this place is real.”

I blushed and looked down at the moss growing in the cracks between the flagstones. There was a tapping sound, and the end of a black walking stick appeared in my field of vision.

“Comitissa Klaudia, are you flirting with this girl?” The Archidux’s voice was deep but coarse: less polished than I would have expected from the Imperator’s nephew.

“And why shouldn’t I?” she said with a touch of defiance.

“You should do whatever you like. But as I’ve told you, cousin, you’ll find the new girls disappointing.”

After the strain of the day, I felt a flash of frustration at being spoken of as though I weren’t even there. I kept my head lowered but said softly, “Your Grace, I’m a grown woman.”

“Oh, brava.” I could hear the amusement in the Comitissa’s voice. “Sebastianus, I wish more people put you in your place.”

“Look at me, tira.” The sound was like gravel scraping over stone.

I took in the ruby-handled walking stick, the linen trousers, the gray toga wound snug over his broad frame, his muscular shoulders and arms. He was more than a head taller than the Comitissa. His black hair was shaved underneath, but the top was long and tied back into a knot with a leather cord. His bronzed skin was faintly weathered, his jawline defined. One bright blue eye focused on me while the other was milky white, with no pupil visible at all. I forced myself to remain calm and hold his intense gaze.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I am twenty, Your Grace.”

“Twenty and not afraid of you, apparently,” the Comitissa said, laughing.

“And you’re a woman at twenty, are you? Because you can do some parlor tricks with fire?”

I experienced a rare moment of not knowing what to say.

He looked out across the crowded terrace. “I think the charm of this place is fading for me.”

“By the gods, I think it’s marvelous,” she said. “Thank you for introducing me to it. It’s a good thing more people don’t know it’s here. The place would be overrun.”

“It doesn’t change very much from year to year.” His eye briefly flicked to my face.

“Perhaps it shouldn’t change,” she said. “It’s delightful the way it is.”

They no longer seemed to be paying attention to me. I took the opportunity to pick up my empty cup and dart away into the relative safety of the crowd. It was a relief to remember that this dismissive man didn’t bid on tirae.

ii

SO MUCH WAS STRANGE ABOUT OUR NEW CIRCUMSTANCES: the rich food and ornate dresses, the presence of men, the tension of waiting for the bidding to begin, and my dawning awareness that none of us tirae were fully prepared for what would come after. It did not help that our days were long and empty. At the Schola Morum, every hour had been scheduled. Here at Casa Caligine, mornings and afternoons stretched out idly. Nothing seemed to happen until the sun began to set and we all prepared for an evening of entertaining. I had never experienced so much free time.