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“Good.” Safinia pulled Orestilla along with her, toward the forum and beyond, the circus. A glance confirmed that a crowd ringed the center of the field. There would be a buried altar there, waiting to be uncovered and to soak in the blood of the sacrifices. Consus, the seeded ground they walked upon, needed to be enriched before a good harvest. All else that bled tonight would make Rome fertile this year. “The Romans have planned to attack tonight; every man is promised a Sabine bride. It’ll happen when everyone’s drunk and distracted.”

“They’re so outnumbered,” Orestilla gasped.

“Are they?” Safinia gestured to the crowd that whooped with delight as Romulus set up for his horse show. She could see him, standing at their center, not in the least afraid of the hooves that thundered past him. “We don’t have horses. A quarter or less of the guests have any weapons at all. And no one expects it. That’s the best way to beat a bigger man.” Safinia was shocked by the flatness in her own voice. She could no longer muster outrage or grief. “You jump him before it even occurs to him that you could.”

Orestilla’s grip tightened on Safinia’s hand. “What do we do? Everyone is here. Everyone.”

“What can we do?” Safinia said. “Who would we have time to warn? We could try to set some fires, maybe, and preempt the panic. But most important is getting out before they close the gate. You and I need to make it back to the city and summon whatever guard and army’s left from the city-states. Anesia and Attice can help us plan when we get there.”

Orestilla’s face changed. She suddenly could not meet Safinia’s eye.

Safinia knew. “Where,” she croaked. Her throat was choked with dust. The hand that gripped Orestilla’s was probably close to breaking it.

“Attice went with Mettius and the twins,” she said. “Anesia—she said she wanted to meet her friends but I think she has a date with Aulus.”

“Do you have any idea where they’d go?” Safinia gripped Orestilla’s shoulders. “Where was the exact spot you left them?”

“I don’t. I can’t remember.” Tears slipped over Orestilla’s cheeks. Safinia turned away and fisted her hands in her hair. She yelled inarticulate nonsense, frustration demanding release. The sound was smothered by the growing din of celebration.

“Offerings soon,” Safinia said, tightening her hands—the pain in her scalp would help her focus. “What happens after that?”

“The performance. They’re practicing now.”

“What are they wearing? Anyone you can think of.”

“Tarpeia—in a blue dress, and practically every bracelet she owns,” Orestilla said haltingly. “Attice wore your green thing, that you brought back from the south. Anesia—I don’t know. Her hair is uncovered. I don’t know!”

“That’s fine.” Safinia forced herself to count—three slow breaths. “Orestilla. You should go now. She means to give you to Hostius. Follow the Tiber as far as you can, then hide.”

Orestilla’s face blanched. But her chin came up defiantly. “I’m staying until you’re safe or I’m dragged away.”

It could come to that, but Safinia couldn’t stop to panic over it. She had to force the torrent of her thoughts to narrow into a plan. First: create a disruption that would force the Romans to abandon their plan, at least for a moment. Second: find Attice and Anesia. Third: grab anyone else she could on the way out. Orestilla could help with the second.

“Go get Mettius, then,” she said. “And if Attice isn’t with him, make him take you to her. Have him bring her and the twins out of the city and up the river to hide. Then look for Anesia. You’ll bring her to me, or Aulus if you must.”

“Right,” Orestilla said. Her face was white with fear, but she looked like she understood. “Where will you be?”

“I’m going to set fires. I’ll start with the forum. Find me there.”

“Right,” she said again. Rabbit-quick, Orestilla grabbed the front of Safinia’s shirt and pulled her in for a kiss. It struck Safinia, clutching at Orestilla’s hair, how utterly senseless she’d been to wait for this. As if her whole life hadn’t been proof of how futile it was to try to stop yourself from feeling. Whether you turned from the kiss or not, someday you would still be here, soft skin under your hands, desperate for a little more time. Then Orestilla was off, running, the slap of her sandal a heartbeat behind the sound of it hitting the ground. Safinia took another three breaths, steeling herself, then turned toward the forum.

The forum was crowded. With her tunic and unbound hair, Safinia seemed to blend in, appearing as a young boy, she hoped. The flurry of activity around her was nauseating. She needed to do something to cut through it, to get people’s attention. Not all those around her were Romans. Plenty were merchants and peddlers from neighboring cities, setting up a market.

The Roman forum was much larger than the one in Cures—it would take every last man to fill it, and even then, they’d have room. Just how big did Romulus expect his city to become? There were no shops or apartment buildings pressed up against the space. It was lined instead with temples, many only half-constructed. The ground was pebbled underfoot, easy to slip on.

Where were the Quirites? From the cliff where Romulus held her it had looked like the entire city of Cures was arriving. A great roar of enthusiasm was her answer—on the far side of the forum, the ground sloped into Rome’s circus. Right. Orestilla had said they were practicing for the horse show.

She wove through the crowd, shoving anyone who didn’t let her pass quickly enough. It seemed, if possible, that the closer she drew to the center of the forum, the denser the crowds. Where were they all coming from? Safinia blinked as she tried to guess, by their clothes or the way they did their hair—but the people around her blurred together as she tried to focus on them.

She stumbled backward. The crowd was a confusion of color; she heard snatches of indistinct languages all around her. Safinia put a hand out, looking for something to steady herself on, and it met sun-warmed stone.

In that moment, the chatter around her suddenly ceased. Like she’d entered an empty, echoing room. She could see the people in the forum, but they felt far away, as if she were looking at a memory of them.

“What?” she asked weakly. “Hello?”

No one answered.

The stone she had touched was a statue. Safinia stepped back to look at it, still encased in that strange bubble of stillness. It was a she-wolf. Panting, her lips drawn wide over bared teeth. Safinia’s heart hammered in her ears. Beneath the wolf were two babies, both reaching up to suckle. She remembered: Romulus, a brother-killer raised by wolves. Unbidden, her hand came to her collarbone and found the ring that hung there. She yanked it and it snapped from her neck. Safinia stared at it in her palm.