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Torches had toppled in the night market at the end of the forum, setting fire to a few brightly colored canvas tents and spreading to the roofs of a few closely clustered huts. The heat and smoke worsened the chaos—but that was good for the Sabine who were trying to find each other and mount resistance, if it meant the Romans wouldn’t be bothered to navigate through the haze.

Safinia ripped a patch from the hem of her tunic and wetted it, wrapping her nose and mouth. The closer she got to the market, the worse the situation became. Confusion had not yet turned to fighting, but still, there were bodies. She didn’t look at them unless they were the right size to be Anesia or Attice, and then only briefly.

Her heart felt walled off. She recognized each one—a beautiful girl, friends with Anesia, her neck at an odd angle; another of Hersilia’s friends, clutching her lover and apparently run through with him; a man she worried for a sick moment was Mettius, but was actually a nasty fellow she’d jumped in the city-south a few years ago. She couldn’t stop to close their eyes or pray for their safe journey through the mist.

As she ran, she ducked aside from three men who pursued a woman. They didn’t bother to reach for her as the other Roman had. When Safinia straightened, an icy chill ran down her back. These would be the women that Hersilia picked out for specific men.

The three men reached their quarry. Safinia turned to pursue them, as one man shouldered the woman. She was one of Tarpeia’s friends—one of Safinia’s students.

“Not this one, lads,” the man who held her said. “She’s for Thalassius—he’ll want her in one piece.”

“Heads up,” his fellow said. He’d spotted Safinia. “Who let a boy join the fun?”

They assumed that she was one of them. She paused, wondering if there was some way to keep the ruse up—enough to distract them and free the girl, maybe—when a smack of hooves hit the ground too close. She rolled to avoid another guard, and before she could scramble to her feet, the kidnappers were remounted and riding away. She wouldn’t catch them.

Someone called her name. “Attice?” Safinia shrieked. “Attice!”

She found a hand through the smoke. Two bodies crashed into her side, clutching at her. Attice, collapsed onto Safinia’s shoulder, almost knocking her back down—and Orestilla, trying to hold them steady. For a moment they wavered together like a tree too reedy for a storm.

“I saw Romulus and—her,” Orestilla said in her ear. She was shaking. “It was too quick. I threw but I missed.”

“They’ll get what they deserve,” Safinia said, sounding surer than she felt. “Where is Anesia?”

“She went with Aulus to get drinks when we arrived. The good news is that means she wasn’t on hand for the show. The worst of it is in the circus.”

This wasn’t the worst of it. It already felt like war. “What about Mettius and the twins?”

“Mettius was drunk before we even walked through the gates,” Orestilla said. “He’s already had one run-in with Hostius. I haven’t seen the girls, but they came.”

Safinia closed her eyes and steeled herself. She was calm enough to count, now. She let herself get to five before kissing both Orestilla’s and Attice’s heads, then releasing them so her hands were free. “We need to find a way out,” she told them. “Then you two will go while I find Anesia and whoever else along the way.”

“No,” Attice said. Her scars were pink against her paled skin. “I’m not leaving your side.”

“You have to,” Safinia pleaded. “I can’t worry about you while I search.”

“It may be a moot point anyway,” Orestilla said grimly. “The wall doesn’t go all the way around, but there’s a palisade encircling the rest of the city. The only easy way out is in the Tiber.”

Safinia remembered the feeling of water in her lungs and grimaced. “Are there weak points in the palisade? Can we tear it down?”

“Maybe. If we had Mettius.”

“We’ll look for him, then. Or anyone strong.” While they spoke, Safinia scanned the market. Tarpeia’s friends were still holding out—the next phase hadn’t yet started. But it would. Soon indiscriminate kidnapping would begin. Not enough Sabine had yet figured out where the danger was, that the Romans were only targeting women. Some were still treating it like any other drunken brawl. “They’re bringing the girls they catch up to the Regia. I’m sure they don’t all plan to stay there—we have to move before Romulus’s best fighters come back.”

“What about Anesia?” Attice’s lips were pressed thin and white. “We can’t leave without her.”

“We won’t have to.”

But she wasn’t sure. She looked for Anesia in the crowd—nowhere, nothing. Tears, held at bay since she sat in her cell, broke through Safinia’s defenses.

“Ama?” Attice asked, alarmed.

“We won’t have to,” Safinia repeated, her voice thick. Every moment that passed meant fewer allies in the city—more Sabine dead, fled, or kidnapped.

Attice clamped down harder on her arm, getting too close to the tender bruising Romulus had left. Safinia peeled her fingers off and stood, not caring that she might be spotted. A part of her expected to see Anesia through the chaos, her face sharp in a muddled pond of colors and people. “I don’t—” Safinia’s breath was too quick. She would tire herself out or faint if she kept it up. But she couldn’t stop sucking in poisoned air. I don’t know what to do.

“—to me! Ama, look at me!”

Hands dug into her shoulders. The world went in and out of focus.