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“No, I don’t deny it.” I crossed my arms also. “But it was for Ismene’s sake. For her safety.”

“Why would we stop at a tiny nothing village?” he demanded. “You had a secret plan. You think I didn’t see when you were whispering together? Making a survey of the village? Talking to the schoolteacher? I might have been the Imperator’s slave, but I’m not a blind man.”

Don interrupted. “Anna, when you say it was for Ismene’s safety, what do you mean? Where did the two of you go?”

I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I can’t tell you that. It’s not my secret to share. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Pollux scoffed. “Trust you? How can we, when you’ve done nothing but lie to us?”

“I admit,” said Don, “I’m struggling to grant you the faith you can’t seem to give us.”

The warmth of the room was seeping into my bones, loosening my tense limbs. The looks of hurt and confusion on their faces filled me with a weary shame.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “I can’t give you what isn’t mine to give. But know this, I had no intention of abandoning you, Pollux. I promised to help Ismene get to her destination, and I did. I can’t say anything more about it. When I returned to the inn, you were gone.”

Pollux seemed about to reply, but Don put up his hand. “I think we’re all just going to have to take a deep breath and try to trust each other.” He turned to me, large hands clasped in his lap. “Anna, think how worried and confused we were. We left Panpirion expecting you to be here when we arrived. You could, and should, have trusted us with at least part of your new plan.”

I was about to respond angrily when he continued, “And Pol, you should have let Anna know you were concerned and suspicious. You could have avoided leaping to a conclusion.”

The three of us sat in the quiet apartment. There was a faint clatter from the shop below.

Finally, Pollux inclined his head toward Don in a small bow. He had a faint flush on his cheeks. “Always the peacemaker, my friend.” He turned to me. “I regret my error.”

My anger evaporated at the look in his earnest brown eyes. “I should have found a way to tell you at least part of the truth. It was absurd to think you wouldn’t notice we were planning something.”

An air of calm settled over the room. I stifled a yawn.

Don looked up at the ceiling. “By the gods, Anna, Seb has been inconsolable. He thinks you left him.”

“He’s been a terror,” Pollux agreed.

I shook my head. “How could he ever think I would leave him?”

“In his mind, it’s much easier to believe that than to believe that a smart, beautiful woman such as yourself would love him.”

“He’s been with other women at Casa Caligine, hasn’t he?” My chest constricted at the thought.

Don shrugged helplessly. “He believes you’re gone. As long as I’ve known him, he’s had certain ways of dealing with grief and anger. And I don’t mean to excuse him. I mean to explain him.”

I was so tired I thought I might fall off the stool. I went over to the couch and sat down beside Don. “You’re saying he uses women to avoid his own feelings. Uses them and discards them.”

“Welcome back to Corlivo,” Don said. “That’s the coin of the realm. By the gods, I hate this place.”

An overwhelming fatigue started to creep into my mind. “I think I need to rest.”

Pollux nodded. “You must sleep in the bedroom.”

“No, this couch seems very comfortable, thank you.” I yawned loudly. All of a sudden, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Don got up and indicated that I should stretch out. “I’m going back up to Caligine to have a word with Seb. Anna, please make yourself at home. There’s a basin of water right over there if you need it.”

But I was already fading into sleep.

THAT AFTERNOON, WHILE waiting for Don to return, I met the dressmaker, a woman named Tosca. When I came down the narrow stairs—rested, washed, and dressed in a clean, simple dress Pollux had procured—she was bent over the table spreading out a length of vivid blue silk, pins clamped between her teeth. She was very thin. Despite the indications of a thriving business all around us—bolts of cloth, notes and receipts pinned to the wall, half-finished silk dresses tacked to wooden forms—she was so slender that the joints of her wrists and elbows protruded obscenely. She wore a pale green dress carefully but unsuccessfully draped to suggest curves. Her familiar high cheekbones, delicate features, and pointed chin made me suspect that she had once been a Corlivo courtesan.

Now that I was clean and better dressed, I must have once again resembled a woman from the pleasure houses, because when she glanced up at me, she said, “Your servingman has gone out, it seems.”

“Yes, thank you. I know.”