No longer afraid, she was no longer hiding away. But the hunt continued. And the mouse, a rat in fact, was close and unaware.

“There are two types of hunters,” Iulia had told her once. “Those who chase, and stalk, and violently pounce on their prey. And those who are patient, setting a snare here, a trap there, waiting for the prey to come to them.”

She wasn’t strong enough to pounce and kill. She certainly was of the patient type, but she still needed a trap.

As one of the great six, her everydays were shaped by chores. Wake at first light. Walk to the Basilica before the sun touches the river bent. Stoke and feed the fires. Pray to the goddess. Listen to the people. Teach the little girls, the future Vestal.

The routine wasn’t hard, jus...

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