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She nearly knelt down and kissed it.

As tired as Safinia was, when the curve of the road brought her into view of her home, she divested herself of the deer leg she’d been carrying and ran, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Their low, haphazard stone fence looked disturbed—had a raider come and knocked it? The olive tree was a little thirsty. Was anyone still here to give it water?

Then Attice stepped out from behind the curtain, holding the canvas they sat on for meals in her elegant hands. Safinia stopped, put her hands on her knees, and let herself have three breaths of relief.

“Ama!” Attice called. Safinia dropped her things in the grass and strode into the garden, her arms wide. She was met with equal force. Her sister clutched her tightly.

“Hey, Atti,” Safinia said into her shoulder. Attice was so tall and solid and unharmed that she almost began to sob. “Made it back.”

“Nothing for me, then?” Mettius stepped out of their home, carrying dinner on a platter. “I won’t believe you if you say you didn’t miss me.”

Safinia laughed. He took a punch on his arm with obvious affection. “Not a bit. Give me the news. Any raids? Where is Anesia?”

“She’s fine, mother hen. She’s with Ores, up at Aulus’s place helping them press oil. Olives are early this year.”

“Raids?” she pressed. She still had Attice gathered in her arms. “Has news come, or anything?”

“Disentangle yourself and sit first,” Mettius said. “You look half-dead. No raids.”

Safinia worried a moment that if she let herself sit, she would collapse—but exhaustion won. She allowed herself to be guided to the ground, and Attice to fetch her cool wine, before she paid attention to the dinner heaped before them. Safinia bit her lip, wondering if they needed to talk about conserving their stores. They were doing well enough, but winter could change things in a finger snap . . .

“Half of this is from my father’s kitchen,” Mettius said, interrupting her fretting. “We’ve been eating up there most nights you’ve been away, and my sisters are hungry little demons. So—no Hersilia? Ores is going to cry, I just know it.”

“She’s stuck around, then?” Safinia asked. “Tell me she’s a harder worker than you.”

“And thank goodness for that,” Mettius said. He sat across from her and reached forward to link their fingers together. “But I’ve been watching out the whole time you were away. Consider it my neighborly obligation.” He did not mention her visit the morning she’d left.

“I can smell the wine on your breath, Mettius.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been celebrating. The bouts finished yesterday—I’ll wrestle in the Games as Cures’s champion.”

It was clear he couldn’t wait any longer with the news. Safinia gasped, her worries forgotten for a moment. “But—that’s great! There hasn’t been an outskirts champion in years.”

“I know.” He looked absurdly pleased with himself.

“Everyone must be falling at your feet.”

“They are. It’s almost like being young and gorgeous again.”

She laughed. Tarpeia was probably furious. That was a nice thought. For a moment, Safinia let herself feel excited. Everything had suddenly changed. Herself and her sisters with a little money, overfull stores, friends—Mettius, his eyes glittering, grinning over their clasped hands, back in favor with Cures’s elite. No one cared about a man’s sexual inclinations if he stood to win the city some glory. Then he released her hands, and said, “But what about you? What news from Crustumerium?”

Safinia’s stomach dropped. “Right,” she said. “For a moment I forgot. It’s not good.”

“Does this have anything to do with the boy who ran through the outskirts a few days ago? He was ragged, wouldn’t stop for anyone but the king.”

“Probably.” She stood, motioning to Attice. “Let’s bring this up the hill and get everyone together. I don’t want to explain twice if you haven’t heard.”

Mettius blanched. “That bad?”

She nodded. They gathered their things and resettled in Mettius’s much larger garden—his father and twin sisters were there, pleased to see Safinia, but equally quick to jump into action. Rania and Flavia took off in different directions to call in members from other nearby families, while Gaius, their father, lit a row of lanterns that would signal that important business was being discussed. It was dinnertime for many—neighbors filtered in still holding bowls or legs of meat.

They all looked at Safinia with curiosity. Before she could work herself into anxiety about speaking before a crowd, a high, feminine voice shrieked her name. Anesia crashed into her, knocking the wind out of Safinia’s lungs. Orestilla was behind, smiling.

“Yes—there, there.” Safinia patted Anesia’s back. “It’s all alright.”

Safinia reached out to clasp Orestilla’s hand as Attice pried Anesia off her.

“She missed you,” Orestilla murmured. “More than she expected. Hersilia?”