Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [165]
Afterward, we went behind the stage to the players' rooms. Deccus Fulvius, it seemed, was the patron of this particular play. He greeted the players, congratulating them on a job well done, rewarding them with coin.
Lucius seemed to know them well. He mingled with them, laughing and jesting. I smiled to see him looking merry, although it left me standing with Claudia, which was a trifle unnerving.
"You're fond of my brother," she observed.
"We've only just met," I said. "But yes, I believe I am."
"I'm pleased to hear it." She sounded sincere. "He needs friends." Her voice shifted, low and amused. "And you seem to be a young man of singular will."
I looked her in the eyes. "I try, my lady."
I found myself regarding the pending meal with equal parts dread and eagerness. In Terre d'Ange, I might have enjoyed the game Claudia Fulvia played. But as Eamonn had reminded me, Tiberium was not Terre d'Ange. Noblewomen were not free to take lovers as they were at home. What the consequences might be, I wasn't sure, but I was fairly certain the wealthy and powerful Deccus Fulvius would not approve. And I didn't want to be in this position. After Valerian House and what had transpired afterward, I needed time to reflect.
I wanted her, though.
I wanted her badly.
After what had passed between us in the theatre, Claudia was the very model of a circumspect Tiberian wife. She excused herself as we entered their townhouse, or domus, as the Tiberians call it, going to check on proceedings in the kitchen. I gazed around the vast atrium, admiring the intricate mosaic on the floor. When a servant knelt to remove my boots, I startled, and wondered again about slavery.
"A little taste of luxury, eh, Montrève?" Deccus Fulvius chuckled. "I thought a poor scholar might enjoy it."
I slid my bare feet into the soft sandals proferred and smiled at him, feeling guilt-ridden as I never would have at home. "You're very kind, my lord."
Deccus shrugged. "Not at all." He eyed Lucius, who was gazing into the open doorway of a small room to the right with a queasy look. "Come, Lucius, the lares of the Fulvii mean you no harm. Let's take some refreshment."
I glanced into the room as we strolled past it toward the peristyle. The light was dimming, but from what I would see, it held only a small altar laden with masks and bronze figurines.
"The dead?" I asked softly.
Lucius gave me a tight smile. "Always."
It was pleasant in the peristyle garden, with dusk falling over the city; though not so pleasant as Phèdre's courtyard at home. I sipped wine and found myself missing her, missing Joscelin, missing Terre d'Ange. Deccus Fulvius teased Lucius and me for our adherence to Master Piero, citing numerous examples of his erratic behavior.
"Oh, let the lads be, Deccus!" Claudia appeared in the doorway, her figure silhouetted in the lamplight behind her. "Come and dine."
We adjourned to the spacious dining room, which was set about with couches. There, Claudia joined us as a hostess in her own right.
I must own, after playing at being the impoverished scholar, it was a pleasure to indulge in luxury. Servants circulated with bowls of scented water. Reclining on couches, we dipped our hands and held them out to be wiped on soft linens. And then the food arrived; course after course, all of it washed down with good wine.
I hadn't realized the extent of my own hunger. Forgetting politics, forgetting Claudia's hand on my phallus, I ate until my belly was groaning: oil-cured olives, salty oysters, tender mussels, a capon so tender the meat fell from the bone, spicy fish stew. The taste of garum pervaded everything. I found myself growing fond of it.
"My!" Claudia smiled at me. "You do have a prodigious appetite, Imriel nó Montrève."
"What do you expect at his age, my dear?" Deccus Fulvius asked cheerfully.
I read the answer in the slight flicker of her eyelids and felt warm. I coughed to cover my embarrassment, loosening my collar and leaning forward to