“That’s right, I don’t! You’re my friend, Aurelia. Not because of money or anything you can do for me, but because you’re a good person, just as you are. Your family should feel the same way.”

I noticed her fidget with her fingers. She lowered her eyes and whispered, “I need to tell you something.”

But before she could, we both leapt to our feet at the fierce barking of two dogs. Coming our way.

Aurelia and I dashed out of the office as two black dogs raced in from the doorway behind the desk and went straight for us. Once in the atrium, Aurelia darted around as if to go to the rear of the home, but I ran forward. I turned long enough to see them still coming and then tripped and fell into the small pool in the center of the atrium.

The dogs came upon me and I raised a hand to protect myself from the worst of their attack. “Stop!” I shouted at them.

To my surprise, both dogs immediately stopped their barking and only stared at me. Just as the animals of the venatio had done. So I got to my feet, slowly, and told the dogs, “Sit.”

They obeyed as quickly as I spoke the words. But that wasn’t a fair test. They were probably well-trained dogs, which I’d expect in a household like this. They needed a more unusual command.

Aurelia walked up to us, cautiously, but her eyes were on me, not the dogs. “Nic —”

“Watch this.” With a smile, I said, “Tell me if Aurelia thinks I’m the handsomest boy in all of Rome.”

Both dogs immediately started barking. Happy, playful barks. They were participating in a joke they couldn’t possibly have understood … unless they could.

Aurelia wasn’t laughing, but her eyes had grown wider. She only said my name again to get my attention, and then pointed. Still in the pool, I was standing directly within the beam of moonlight pouring in from overhead. And when I realized where she was pointing — to the bulla beneath my tunic — I saw why she was so alarmed.

It was glowing, as brightly as if the bulla itself was a moon.

I pulled off the bulla to see it better and then its full glow became apparent. Beneath the moonlight, it nearly lit the room to a daytime light.

Crispus ran into the room. “I’m sorry about — oh!”

Aurelia walked forward until she stood in the pool with me. Staring into my eyes the entire time, she took the bulla from me and hung it back around my neck, on the outside of my tunic.

“I know which of the gods supplies this bulla’s power,” she said. “No wonder it’s given you so much trouble.”

Forgetting about the dogs, Crispus walked forward, his attention fixed on the bulla. “We knew you must have it,” he breathed. “Nothing else could’ve caused such damage in the amphitheater. I’ll never forget that day.”

Nor would I, much as I had already tried to do it.

Crispus reached out a hand toward the bulla, then paused and lowered it again. “How are you making it glow?”

“It isn’t Nic,” Aurelia said. “The bulla is responding to the moonlight. Watch this.” She stepped out of the pool and then motioned for me to come with her. Once I got back onto the tile floor, the glow began fading. After only a minute, its glow was no brighter than before, and I was fairly certain neither Aurelia or Crispus could see that soft glow anyway.

“It’s the power of the gods,” Crispus whispered.

“No, just one of them.” Aurelia turned to me. “You can communicate with animals, and when the bulla is working, you are unnaturally strong. I knew about those, but the moonlight makes it obvious which god gives this bulla its power.”

“Diana,” I whispered. “Goddess of the hunt and of the moon.”

“She speaks with animals and has great strength,” Crispus added. “And so now you have her powers?”

“He can command a griffin too,” Aurelia said. “That one who was in the amphitheater.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “She just … listens to me.”

“Same thing,” Aurelia said. “Maybe it was your griffin who pulled the chariot of Diana’s twin brother, Apollo. But unlike her brother, Diana isn’t known as the kindest of the gods.”

I already understood that. The bulla had shown me a great deal of its power, but none of its mercy.

The door to the home opened. Crispus whispered to me, “That’s my father. For now, say nothing of this new discovery. Let him talk first.”

I nodded, and Senator Valerius came into the atrium. Crispus dipped his head toward his father, and Aurelia did the same. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I figured I should probably show the same respect. Once I looked up again, Valerius eyed me suspiciously. “Why are you all wet?”

“The dogs chased him into the pool,” Crispus said.

Valerius grunted as if I was some great fool for having fallen in the water which I probably was. But I reminded myself that he had risked a lot to bring me here, so I had already impressed him somehow. I didn’t need to do more.

“What about your arm? It’s wrapped, and badly done.”

Aurelia grimaced, but it wasn’t her fault. I had rewrapped the wound myself after we escaped from the cistern. Whatever oils she had put on the cloth to heal the wound were long washed away.

Aurelia spoke up for me and her tone was cool. “There are people who will do a lot worse to Nic if they have the chance. Can we be sure you aren’t one of them?”

He didn’t answer, and instead turned to me. “Let’s talk in private.” His eye wandered from Crispus to Aurelia. “While you two are waiting, Crispus, get that girl something proper to wear. She doesn’t talk like a servant. Let’s not have her looking like one.”

Crispus bowed again and with a backward look at Aurelia, I followed Valerius into his office. He asked me to sit, which I did, and then he took his chair behind the desk, clasped his hands, and stared at me. I felt uncomfortable beneath his gaze, but recalled Crispus’s reminder that only slaves kept their heads down. I forced myself to look back at him and tried to appear calm.

Finally, he said, “I’ve been asking questions about you. You call yourself Nicolas Calva — a rather fine name considering you’ve come from the slave mines. You were known to be a hard worker, and a brave miner, though not the most obedient.”

“I obeyed every order that wasn’t stupid.”

He arched an eyebrow. “As a slave, you took it upon yourself to decide which orders were good and which were bad?”

“You get to decide that. Why not me?”

“I’m a senator!”

“You’re a person, just as I am. And I want to live my life.”

Valerius leaned forward. “And is that your goal now, to live? I saw the way you fought for your life in the amphitheater. With that magic you threw out, you could’ve killed thousands of people.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could have!” He gestured toward the bulla. “What do you know about magic?”

I hesitated at first, but finally decided that I had made an agreement with Felix, and Valerius was the only one who truly seemed interested in helping me keep it. So after a quick, nervous breath, I said, “I think the Divine Star is the reason I can do magic. Without it, this bulla would be as useless to me as it is to anyone else.”

“That’s right. But the Divine Star is more than the reason you can do magic. It is the magic.”

“I don’t feel any magic there. It prickles sometimes, but that’s all.”

“I think you would feel it, except for the other magic that is pressing in on you.” He nodded at the bulla, still in my hand. “There is so much power in that object, I would guess you feel like you were tossed in the sea when you only asked for a cup of water.”