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Hersilia spoke with the same affection she always did when she mentioned Numa. Was it possible she didn’t know of the deal he made with Romulus? Unease mounted in Safinia’s stomach. She fought to keep tension from her shoulders—this close, Hersilia would feel it. If she didn’t think she’d been sold, then she would think she’d been kidnapped. And if that was so, why wasn’t she trying to run away?

Behind Hersilia, the door was still open a crack.

Safinia breathed her fear out. They were still deep in the guts of Rome. And Hersilia’s intentions were never clear. Safinia began cataloging the jewelry she wore, starting from Hersilia’s fingertips. One of the rings, a small, carved intaglio, reminded her of Livy’s. Safinia almost opened her mouth to invoke his name, but closed it again. How would Hersilia feel if she learned Livy had been here and not helped her?

She touched a bracelet on Hersilia’s right arm. “So you are married. I knew it was true, but—” Safinia cut herself off. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It really is. I always knew I wouldn’t marry for love.” Hersilia shifted so she could smooth a thumb over Safinia’s cheek. “Romulus isn’t as bad as you might imagine. He was angry about what you said to him, though.”

“Did he hurt you because of me?”

Hersilia laughed lightly. “No, of course not. Maybe if he knew who you were to me. He didn’t know your name until he made Father tell, and we both did a good job of convincing him that you were just some outskirts drunk.”

Despite herself, this stung Safinia. “Has he hurt you at all?”

“Besides the indignities of marriage? No. Those I can take. I’m not eager to bear him sons, though—I should have finished all my child-rearing years ago when my body was younger. And there are no midwives here yet.”

“We have to get out.” Whatever else, this was what was most important. Safinia could not stay in Rome—she had to make it home, warn her family and the rest. “How close are we to an exit?”

“If we were to run, we’d be pinned in thirty steps. There are guards on either side of this hallway.”

“How did you get to me, then?”

“I brought them,” Hersilia said, like it was obvious. “I’m wife to Romulus. That makes me their queen.”

“Right.” Safinia knew it, but it wasn’t easy to hear. “Are these ones loyal to you? Will they report back to him if you leave their sight?”

“Look at you, ticking away, planning. That’s my job.” Hersilia smiled and took Safinia’s hands in her lap. “It’s alright. I’m here to help you. Do you need a salve for your wrists? I can get it and bring it back to you tomorrow morning. There is food coming, too, and soon. I can’t have you wasting away on me.”

“Hersilia, I don’t understand.” Safinia swallowed. “There is no ransom coming that will see you released. Hardly anyone in Cures even knows you’re here.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“The problem is Numa sold you!” Safinia felt like there was water in her ears. The idea that Hersilia knew all this already—unthinkable. And yet there she sat, blinking at Safinia like she was stupid. “He’s betrayed Sabinum, and the king. You must suspect it, at least. This isn’t a marriage arrangement, it’s a—an allying, behind Cures’s back. Even now, he’s telling us to make nice, trying to keep war from breaking out—war that would liberate you!”

“I would hardly expect to be saved in war,” Hersilia said, her voice strangely flat. “More likely raped and killed by my liberators. You know Sabine men.”

“All the more reason to escape—”

She cut through Safinia’s protests. “And my father didn’t sell me. If he told you as much, he lied.”

“I know that you love him—”

“You know nothing.”

Safinia blinked. Her hands were still held in Hersilia’s, but her palms ached from the thumbs pressing them, a warning. Hersilia’s neck was long, held straight, and her gaze level. As regal as any queen.

A part of Safinia knew what she would say just before she said it. No, she thought. Don’t let this be.

“I’m not a hostage. I wasn’t kidnapped.” Hersilia’s thumbs turned in, her nails cutting into Safinia’s skin. Her grip was like a vise, a clear message in it: Don’t try anything. “And my father didn’t sell me. He didn’t have to. This is all my design.”

The grip on her hands, too close to her chapped wrists, kept Safinia from running. That, and the shock that ran through her, disconnecting her legs from her mind. It was just as well—even if she managed to push through the open sliver to freedom, she would only be knifed by a Roman.

“Just relax,” Hersilia said calmly. “And we can talk.”

Safinia considered running anyway. Her eyes flicked to the door, and Hersilia whistled sharply. “Stay close,” she called to the man whose footsteps came to a halt right behind it. To Safinia, she said, “Please don’t be stupid. I doubt you could take them on a good day. Just sit, let me explain.”

“You have no intention of letting me go, do you.”