As expected, it was a long night. I stayed right outside Caela’s cage, talking softly to her whenever she stirred, and assuring her everything would be all right, though by now I knew otherwise. While she slept, I began fitting together an escape plan, a solution for everyone. If I left Rome with the bulla, Radulf would never get it from the emperor, and the emperor could not take it from me. And I would save Caela’s life.

Admittedly, a few details still escaped me. I needed a way to go back for Livia, which would be dangerous. Beyond that, how was I to free Caela from her locked cage? Although she had already torn the gold nugget free from its chains, the thick metal bars would be too much even for her.

By morning, my plan was no clearer than it had been the night before. I was put to work feeding Caela and then assigned to feed some of the other animals too. Although I had doubted it was possible, the tunnels smelled worse than they did the day before. I asked about mucking out the animals’ cages, but the older workers said it would be easier after the games. I knew what that meant and it made me sick to my stomach.

I spoke to each animal as I fed it and was surprised to find each one looking directly back at me. I’d never seen animals behave this way before. Either that, or they had never behaved this way to me. The animals weren’t given much food — they were supposed to arrive in the arena hungry, and mean. When nobody was looking, I added to their rations. Especially to Caela’s. If I had to handle her, she was the last animal I wanted to be hungry.

After morning chores, Felix appeared and motioned me over, almost like he was in a panic. His face was lit with anger. “How does the Senate know about you?” he sputtered. “I’ve told nobody but the emperor, and he’s told nobody at all. Who did you tell?”

“Nobody!” And I didn’t particularly appreciate his accusation, considering that I was the clear loser should anyone find out about the bulla. “What happened?”

Felix exhaled. “The son of Senator Valerius is outside. He asked for you by name.”

Crispus? That was unexpected, but still a great relief, considering who else it might have been. “I met him before I left the mines,” I said. “He’s harmless.”

Felix’s face twisted. “That’s why I’m worried. Because with that thing you carry, no one is harmless. Until you give it to the emperor, you must keep it safe.”

“Why bother?” I asked. “Radulf will take it from the emperor, so Rome is finished anyway.”

Felix quickly glanced around him to be sure no one had overheard us, and then slammed me against the wall. “You don’t want to make the general angry, Nic. No one wants that.”

Maybe someone should’ve told me that before I stole the bulla from him. “You’re afraid of him too,” I said. His eyes widened, and I knew I was right. “Why?”

“He’s powerful,” Felix whispered. “More than you know.”

“Is there a problem here?”

We both turned and saw Crispus standing at the base of the exit ramp, tall and stern, with both hands on his hips. He wore his authority over us like a cloak, perfectly comfortable with his power.

Felix apologized — to Crispus, not to the person whose air he was choking off with his arm — and then released me. But before he did, he grabbed my shoulder one last time and gave me a look that perfectly communicated his warning about not revealing the bulla. As if I needed such a reminder. Nobody understood the potential consequences better than I did.

I walked up to Crispus and gave him a curt bow, but he waved that aside and said, “You can do that for my father perhaps, but not me.”

So I stood up straight, but would not look at him. I felt desperate to ask what he wanted, but we couldn’t talk here in the open.

“Come with me.” Crispus began walking up the ramp. I started to follow behind him, but he motioned me forward, to his side. It confused me, rather, even worse, it worried me. He would not treat me like an equal … unless I had something he wanted.

“How do you like the venatio?” he asked.

“I haven’t been here a full day yet,” I reminded him.

“My father was disappointed that he never got the chance to buy you.” He waited for a response, but I was biting my tongue to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. What did he expect from me? Some sort of apology for not being on the market that day? Crispus didn’t even notice my irritation. After another step or two, he continued, “And my father would’ve liked to come here and talk with you, but he felt that would be unwise. After all, he’s a senator, and —”

“And senators don’t talk to slaves,” I said. “I understand.”

I had expected we would leave the amphitheater, but instead, Crispus led me through the inner corridor to where merchants were already setting up their shops in preparation for the next day’s games.

“It gets bigger each year,” Crispus explained. “Fiercer battles, more blood, more death. Whenever an emperor tries to limit the games, the people become angry. The last thing he needs is an uprising within his walls. So he gives them the show they want.”

He walked forward and talked to a man with more varieties of fruit on display than I’d ever seen in my life. The more I saw of Rome, the more I realized how sheltered my existence had been at the mines. Much as I already admired this great city, I knew Livia would love it even more. I couldn’t wait to tell her everything I’d seen here.

The fruit seller didn’t seem too happy about what Crispus wanted, but again, Crispus was clearly comfortable giving orders, and the man was left with no choice but to bow in obedience. He then ordered everyone else out, leaving us alone.

Crispus motioned me toward him. “Being a senator’s son has a few advantages,” he said, smiling. That seemed rather obvious. He was educated, wealthy, and likely had all the food he could possibly eat. As far as I was concerned, he had every advantage.

Behind the market display was a small room with only a bed inside. Crispus shut the door and suggested that I sit. I took the floor. He started to object, then let the matter go.

Crispus said, “There’s no easy way to open this conversation, so I’ll just start. My father wants to know about the mark on your back.”

I sat up straighter, pressing the wing of my shoulder into the cement wall, and averting my eyes as if I hadn’t heard him. Which was idiotic. Obviously, I could hear him fine.

“You can talk to me,” he said. “Remember, it was my father who first told you it was more than a scratch.”

“And immediately warned me not to discuss it,” I said.

“I know.” Crispus left his place on the bed and came to sit beside me. Then he lowered his voice. “But you need to know what it is.”

“The Divine Star,” I whispered. “Julius Caesar’s mark.”

He seemed surprised. “Yes! The griffin gave it to you, right? That’s how a person gets the mark, when they come into contact with a creature of the gods.”

My hand brushed over the hidden bulla. It was also from the gods.

“The Divine Star is very rare.” Crispus leaned in. “And also, very dangerous.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s magic, Nic. That griffin gave you magic.”

It was all starting to make sense. Caela had fought me in the cave, until I got the bulla around my neck. Once I did, she recognized its power, and then marked my shoulder to give me the ability to use it. To the rest of the world, the bulla I held would never be anything but a trinket left over from Caesar’s youth. But to me, and maybe only to me, it held the power of the gods.

“So what I’m here to ask,” Crispus continued, “is if I can see that magic. I want to see what you can do.”