Chapter 7 #2
Drusilla flushed, and Lea began to stammer an apology.
She was not well-versed in patrician social graces, but she sensed her remark had been unforgivably rude.
“Forgive me—I didn’t mean—” Her frantic gaze sought Kallias.
This was why she’d wanted to stay near him.
Barely a quarter of an hour into this dinner party and she’d already said something stupid.
The traitorous physician paid her no attention, instead chatting with the people nearest him.
He looked much too relaxed, his lean body arrayed elegantly on the dining couch as he picked at the food on his plate with delicate fingers.
She would have given anything to be seated at his side instead of here.
“No,” Drusilla murmured. “It was thoughtless of me to say that. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
“Me too,” Lea admitted, which made Drusilla laugh.
The uncomfortable moment seemed to have passed, but Lea still felt she needed a distraction, so she reached out and filled her plate with a few of the nearest dishes.
She took only a single slice of duck and a bit of fish; her diet as a gladiator precluded meat most of the time, and overindulging would give her a stomachache.
But there was a cold lentil salad that looked delicious, along with plenty of fresh bread and soft cheese she couldn’t wait to taste.
“I hope you don’t like walnuts,” Drusilla said as she watched Lea fill her plate.
“Um…” What was she meant to say to that? Lea did like walnuts, but was there some reason she wasn’t supposed to admit that?
“I get ill every time I eat them,” Drusilla continued, “so my brother has banned them from the palace.”
“Oh,” Lea said. She took a sip of wine.
As soon as she set the blue glass goblet down, a slave materialized behind her to refill it.
“Thank you,” Lea murmured as the young woman disappeared back into the shadows by the wall.
Before coming to the ludus, Lea had waited on many dinner parties like this—though of course never with guests of this caliber.
But she remembered the endless hours of standing, the boredom, the aching feet, the cruel words barked if she didn’t move fast enough to refill a goblet or remove an empty platter.
And she remembered the hands that didn’t hesitate to squeeze her bottom or palm a breast as she leaned over the table.
No matter what happened—no matter if she died in the arena or bought her freedom—she’d never go back to that life.
Drusilla asked a question about Lea’s training routine, which led into another, and another.
Drusilla was intensely curious about what sort of training Lea undertook, what time she rose, when she went to bed, if she was nervous before fights…
the questions went on and on. She even asked how much a female gladiator was worth, looking suitably impressed when Lea told her of the forty thousand sestertii that Lucullus wanted.
After the second course of a huge roasted pig stuffed with sausages, a few small bowls circulated among the guests.
When one reached Lea, she frowned at it, attempting to decipher the contents.
The bowl was filled with a coarse, ivory-colored powder.
Lea lifted it to her nose and sniffed. It had a savory, slightly fishy aroma.
It reminded her a bit of garum, the ubiquitous fish sauce that improved nearly every food.
Perhaps it was a powdered form of garum? Some sort of extra seasoning? That made sense, given how she’d observed other diners sprinkling it onto their food.
She would have asked Drusilla what it was, but the lady had disappeared briefly from the table. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask the emperor, who in any case was laughing with the men nearest him.
Lea turned hesitantly to the woman on her other side. She hadn’t yet spoken to this lady, as all her attention had been taken up by Drusilla.
The woman surveyed her with flared nostrils and a curled lip, her expression haughty and forbidding. Lea cleared her throat, attempting to summon the words, but before she could, the woman swiveled away from her, presenting Lea with her silk-swathed back.
“No one told me today was Saturnalia,” the woman said in a snide tone to her dining companion, referencing the holiday on which slaves dined in their masters’ places.
Lea contemplated a nearby serving knife and briefly fantasized about driving it into the woman’s eye. Then she returned her attention to the powder-filled bowl in her hands. She decided it was best to copy the other diners, so she reached in, took a large pinch, and sprinkled it over her food.
She slid the bowl toward the loathsome woman without speaking and took a bite of her newly seasoned food. The powder had a salty savor with a mild fish aftertaste—not unpleasant when paired with the lentil salad she’d been enjoying most.
She ate in silence. Drusilla reappeared, her makeup looking refreshed, and engaged Lea in further conversation.
By the time the third course—heaping trays of oysters and lobsters—was brought out, Lea was feeling decidedly odd.
Her gaze couldn’t seem to focus on anything, her vision blurring and shifting.
She blinked, trying to anchor her sight on the craggy shell of an oyster, but it remained an indistinct gray mass.
Her head spun, and suddenly she couldn’t feel the silken cushions beneath her anymore, as if she were floating.
Something about her arm felt different too, and she realized the dull ache had entirely vanished.
She grabbed for her wine goblet. Her clumsy fingers nearly overturned it, but she managed to grip the stem and drag it closer, inspecting the contents.
Was it possible the servers had given her unmixed wine?
She had been drinking more than usual, feeling less awkward with a glass in her hand.
But as she blearily looked inside, the liquid appeared a blush pink, well-diluted with water.
She pushed the goblet aside and looked down at her silver plate. An unpleasant jolt ran through her. The food had disappeared. Instead, the plate was filled with a collection of loose flower petals: pink and red and yellow and white.
That was very, very strange.
She reached for one of them, but her fingers couldn’t seem to make contact.
A tide of panic rose inside her, fighting through the cloying unsteadiness.
She didn’t know what was happening to her.
Was she the only one who felt this way? She tried to glance around the table, but the other diners had turned into blurry, vague shapes.
Drusilla had vanished again, as far as Lea could tell.
A hazy fear swelled. Poison? Someone had mentioned that earlier. Someone had been afraid of it.
Her gaze sought Kallias, but couldn’t find him.
The dark shadow of the doorway caught her attention. Escape. Yes—she needed to leave this room, to find some fresh air and hopefully come back to herself.
Lea struggled to her feet. Her long garments tangled around her legs, but she yanked herself free and stumbled toward the doorway.