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home for us all the way from Britannia. Isn’t that nice of him?”
    There were confused murmurs of assent.
    Ruso tried again. “Tilla,” he said, gesturing toward Arria, “this is my stepmother, Arria—”
    But Arria had not finished. “We must all set her a good example and look after her,” she continued. “Galla, go and tell the driver to bring in the master’s luggage. Children, why don’t you all go and take—what do you call her?”
    “Tilla.”
    “Take Tilla to the kitchen and Cook will find her something to eat and drink. I expect she would like that.” She turned to Ruso. “What do they eat, Gaius?”
    The words, “Small children,” were out before he could stop them. “Arria, where’s Lucius?”
    * * *
    The nieces and nephews were finally ushered away to the kitchen, taking both of Ruso’s half sisters with them to protect them from the child-eating barbarian. Ruso, faintly ashamed of himself, was left alone with his stepmother.
    “Gaius, dear, what are you doing home? Are you on leave? What’s wrong with your foot?”
    Evidently Arria knew nothing about Lucius’s letter. “Home to convalesce,” he explained. “I need to see Lucius.”
    “I’ve sent one of the servants to fetch him. I must say, that’s a very strange young woman you’ve brought with you. Why is she dressed like that in this weather?”
    “Because those are her clothes.” As far as Ruso was aware, Tilla had two sets of perfectly adequate second-hand clothes. These, if pushed, he could describe as “blue.” He could differentiate between them only as The One She’s Wearing and The One That’s Being Washed.
    “She can’t wear heavy wool like that here. I’ll ask one of the staff to find her something else.”
    “Is everything all right here? Where’s Cass?”
    Arria sighed. “Who knows? As you see, the children are quite out of control. It’s such a relief to have you home, Gaius. Poor Lucius really has no idea. He’s letting everything go to waste— Gaius, dear, are you listening?”
    Ruso rubbed his tunic against the small of his back to wipe away a trickle of sweat. “No.”
    Arria sighed. “You must be tired after traveling. But I have to tell you this while I have the chance. You see how things are here. Your father would be so disappointed, after all that he did. I was hoping we would have your sisters married by now—Marcia, at least—”
    “I’ll sort out the girls’ dowries now I’m home,” promised Ruso, hoping Lucius was not going to tell him there was nothing to settle on either of their half sisters.
    “In the meantime your brother and his wife do nothing but breed children who run around making sticky fingerprints on the furniture. The smallest one has no idea what a pot is for and the staff are constantly sweeping up what they’ve broken. They’ve driven away three tutors already. Cassiana just indulges them and Lucius is too taken up with his vines and his legal squabbles to notice. Galla’s worn out, and—”
    “What legal squabbles?” said Ruso, suddenly paying attention.
    “He keeps telling me we can’t afford to replace Galla, but I’m sure we could—”
    “What legal squabbles, Arria?”
    “Do talk to him about it, dear, will you? It’s such a wretched nuisance. And now he’s got your sisters involved in it.”
“Involved in what?”
“Oh, something about a— seizure order, is it?”
    “Holy gods, Arria! There’s someone trying to auction off everything we own?”
    His stepmother put one manicured finger to her lips. “Please don’t shout, dear. We’re not supposed to talk about it. Do what I do—just pretend you don’t know.”

7
    T HE SHUTTERS OF his father’s old study opened with a screech that briefly silenced the chirrup of the cicadas outside. Sunlight spilled across the floor and threw the iron studs on the old wooden chest into sharp relief. Ruso crossed the room and slid one hand under the rim of the lid. Locked. Of course. Lucius would be