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‘It is different. Your brother Decimus was the named heir, in official documents that were filed to the Archives,’ said Damocles. ‘He had no chance to name a successor. The Senate will consider you both. They will hear you speak, then there will be a vote. The Senate shall decide which of you will rule.’
‘Delightful,’ said Marcellus, clasping his hands together. ‘I spent a lot of time thinking about the kind of emperor I’ll be on the boat ride over, and I’ve come up with some ideas. I think you’ll all be impressed.’
Claudia resisted the strong urge to say something incredibly undiplomatic.
Hieronymus smiled at Marcellus like a doting uncle before turning to affix Claudia with an impassive stare.
‘Shall I confirm your attendance?’ asked Damocles.
‘What if the loser refuses to concede?’ said Claudia.
‘Any aspiring emperor can seize power, but he must have majority support in the Senate and the military to hold on to that power,’ said Damocles. ‘The same would apply to an empress, I am certain.’
The consul was smug, but he was right. Her longevity as a ruler depended on winning over the public.
‘I shall leave you two to… catch up,’ he said.
Damocles shuffled away.
Hieronymus fixed Gia with a long, disapproving glance before he departed. She gave him one right back.
Claudia and Marcellus looked to each other, neither one eager to break the tense silence. She maintained a cool, undisturbed demeanour, pretending she wasn’t bothered by the quiet. She had many years of expertise in psychological warfare to call upon.
‘I’ve invited some fellows over for a gathering this evening,’ said Marcellus, eventually. ‘Drumming up support for my campaign.’
‘Oh?’ said Claudia, coolly.
‘I assume it won’t be a problem to host here, at the palace. There are enough empty rooms. Unless you’d like me to find another location for the occasion?’
Marcellus was already busy campaigning. Hosting an event at the palace gave him a certain accreditation, but if Claudia refused, she’d appear petty and threatened. It was better to treat him as if he wasn’t a serious concern. And yet, the Senate meeting was tomorrow morning. Claudia didn’t have much time to influence anyone or make allies herself. How had Marcellus arranged it in advance, if he’d only just been invited?
Perhaps he was smarter than he appeared, or perhaps the Senate was already aligning fortune in his favour.
Claudia inspected her cousin, taking note of his over-embroidered robes, his styled hair, his clean fingernails and soft hands. Like her, he was a child of privilege, but unlike her, he hadn’t fought tooth and claw to survive the world’s monsters. He had never been preyed on by Decimus. He hadn’t witnessed the end of the world in Pompeii as she had, or been blessed by the goddesses.
Those were not the hands of a killer – not like hers.
She wouldn’t give up so easily.
‘Go ahead,’ she said, casually. ‘You are family, after all. I would not turn you away.’
‘That is gracious of you, cousin.’
‘Throw your party. Have your fun. But let it be said: you will not be emperor.’
Marcellus didn’t answer for a moment, his expression frozen between a smile and a scowl.
‘I hope we can come to an agreement and live in peace, but I will not stand aside and hand you the crown just because you are a man.’
‘The crown isn’t yours to give,’ he said.
‘It’s on my head, isn’t it?’ she said, gesturing at it. ‘I took it from my brother’s body.’
A cold chill swept through the room.
‘If I win, it will be because I was the better candidate,’ Marcellus said. ‘Not just because I am of the superior sex.’
Gia bit down on her bottom lip, making a fist as if she was barely containing her desire to punch him.
