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‘Don’t be hysterical, Claudia,’ he’d said, being fitted for new robes. ‘You’re making a scene. Conduct yourself with some dignity.’

Now, she bit down on the inside flesh of her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her nails dug into her palm, the sharp sensation flooding her with relief. She may be empress, but that small girl inside her, clutching a broken doll, was still frightened… and angry.

Her father had failed her then, and every time after. No matter what her brother did to her, her father had never punished him for it.

Now she was empress and they were dead. She could dismantle their statues, if she wanted to. She could piss on their graves as soldiers fired cannons, if she wanted to. They would deserve it.

‘I must insist that we march with the equestrian legion, at the very least,’ said Damocles, bringing her back to reality. ‘You like horses, don’t you? There’s nothing objectionable about horses.’

‘Fine,’ said Claudia. ‘We shall have horses.’

‘And if you’re having horses, you may as well have chariots. A dozen charioteers. They can ride ahead of the gladiators.’

‘Fine. What else?’ she said.

‘There is no question about the military band. You simply must have a military band,’ said Damocles.

‘A small one.’

‘What about fire breathers? Or acrobats?’

‘It is not a circus, Damocles.’

‘The people will be less hostile if they are entertained. That’s why I suggested the menagerie.’

‘No menagerie,’ she said firmly.

‘What about an offering to the gods?’

Claudia lifted her chin in interest, her eyes narrowing.

‘Now there’s an idea,’ she said.

‘Which god would you like to dedicate your confirmation to?’

‘Not a god, a goddess. We shall thank Minerva, but also Diana, Venus and Fortuna… actually, let us dedicate it to all of the goddesses.’

Damocles blinked at her rapidly.

‘All of them?’ he repeated. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Why not? Have an attendant from each of their temples walk in the parade to honour their deity, and, at the end, we shall have a special ceremony for Minerva. She is my patron, after all.’

‘But not a single god?’

‘Not one.’

‘Not even Jupiter?’

‘Least of all him.’

One of the courtiers gasped at her reckless daring.

‘As you wish, Empress,’ sighed Damocles.

He made way for another man – the imperial armourer presenting a new crest – as a gaggle of advisors auditioned various singers, giving them each just a minute to impress her.

More and more visitors arrived, filling the table with gifts and offerings. Claudia sat upright in the chair, lifting herself up with her hands as she looked around for Gia, but she was nowhere to be seen. The arches were guarded by praetorians instead.