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“Just wait,” Safinia whispered back. “There is—some news. Not good news.”

Orestilla nodded, her spine already stiffening. Safinia could see her setting her shoulders, preparing her composure, her hands—though they were covered in oil—clasped rigidly in her skirts.

Twenty or thirty people had gathered in Mettius’s garden. They found seats on the ground, or along the low stone fence. “Well?” Gaius asked. “What news?”

“I’ve been in Crustumerium,” Safinia said. She ignored the stirring of people listening. They all would have been curious once word got out that she was away. “I was charged with looking into a few disappearances that happened in Cures proper.”

She looked around at the faces that surrounded her. She recognized them all. Hard, determined, callused. Like Safinia. Her mother would have roused them with a speech, but Safinia knew she wasn’t built to inspire. Only to convey truth as directly as she could.

“Romans have been taking Sabine women for brides and slaves. Several days ago, they burned Caenina to the ground. As spread out as we are in the outskirts, we are at risk if they decide to raid.”

“There are plenty of cities between here and Caenina,” a man said. It was Aulus, one of Numa’s quaestors, returned to the outskirts to help his family harvest oil and olives. “Why should we panic?”

“There are plenty of Romans here, in Cures,” Mettius snapped. “More coming for the Games every day. If they decide to leave with their arms full, how quickly will the king respond?”

There were unhappy murmurings. King Tatius had abandoned guard posts all the way to the Tiber several years before. It was part of the reason the bandits who’d stolen Attice had made it to Safinia’s home.

“What do we do, then?” Aulus’s mother asked.

“Runners reached the king a few days ago, but I imagine it will take time to recruit and divert the army to Rome,” Safinia said. “Especially as the Games seem to be going ahead. It may be best for young women to relocate inside the walls.”

“And the harvest?” Aulus’s mother pressed. “How can we lose so many hands?”

Mettius’s father stepped up next to Safinia. “I’m sure between us we can arrange help so that everyone has what they need,” Gaius said. “Those with no relatives or places to stay in the city, raise your hand, so we can sort out where to send our girls.”

He ranged through the crowd, talking with each family, and Safinia was grateful to sit down between Anesia and Attice, and eat whatever Mettius handed her. Orestilla bit her fingernails, staring toward the south, toward Rome. It took her a moment to rouse herself. “You all have a place with me. My insula is small, but we should get by. Your sisters, too, Mettius,” she said, glancing up at him.

“You’ll live to regret that,” he said. His sisters gamboled over, each taking hold of an arm, oblivious to her ashen, stricken face.

“Do we hate Rome now?” Flavia asked.

“We’ve always hated Rome,” Safinia said.

“Not me,” Rania said. “Twins are loved in Rome.”

Something nagged Safinia as Mettius shooed the girls into the house to collect their clothes. But Anesia distracted her before she could land on it, winding her arms around one of Safinia’s and leaning on her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re excited to live in the city,” Safinia warned.

“Of course I won’t tell you.” Anesia blew hair out of her eyes. “It’s not quite what I imagined, living with my stuffy sisters and two nine-year-olds. Ores is fun, though.”

Safinia glanced at Orestilla—the girl didn’t even seem to be listening. “Give her some space, Anesia. She deserves time off. And, Attice, will you be alright?”

In answer, Attice leaned her head on Safinia’s.

“Training,” Gaius’s voice cut in. Safinia looked up at him. “We’ll need all hands back when the big harvest begins. That means our girls need spears again. Safinia?”

She nodded. It had been Calliste’s job to train her neighbors, back in rougher times. These days, it would have fallen to Mettius, as the best fighter among them—but he would be busy preparing for the Games.

“I’ll take on spearcraft,” she called to the group. “Everyone at least—” She glanced at Rania and Flavia, who looked at her with pleading eyes. “Nine years of age. Daybreak, at the circus.”

She named the wide expanse of grass outside the King’s Regia that the Games would be held on. At dawn, it would be deserted.

To Gaius, Safinia said, “I’ll need staffs.”

“I’ll send them with Metty in the morning.”

“These poor girls,” Anesia muttered. “They don’t know what they’re in for with instructor Safinia.”

“You’re not exempt, you know,” Safinia said. “Even if I have to drag you there by your ear.”