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Previous dynasties had increased the personal powers of the emperor. He sat at the top, with control over all the legislative branches, amassing an insurmountable amount of power, but that same power put a target on his back. An emperor only ruled for as long as he could keep the public from rioting.

On the morning of her own coronation, Claudia emerged from the palace to a crowd of exultant applause.

It was from the all-female Cult of Diana, as they were now known – named in honour of the mystery party Claudia had attended against her brother’s orders. Word of this small act of resistance had spread through Rome, earning her new supporters. The cult had tripled in size overnight, including everyone from ancient priestesses to vestal virgins.

‘The empress has risen like the sun!’

‘The empress is in motion like the wind!’

‘All hail the empress!’

Claudia basked in their adoration, smiling and waving.

Their cheers and prayers strengthened her, giving her a feeling of divinity, of invincibility.

Following the appearance of the goddess at Senate House, Rome was alight with talk of Claudia summoning Victoria to approve her. Many had turned up in hope of witnessing the next celestial event.

Petals were thrown and incense was burned. Horns blared self-importantly as soldiers marched in formation. It was like any other festival in Rome: an excuse to avoid work and become intoxicated.

Claudia was quickly led out, with Gia at her side, surrounded by armoured praetorian guards bearing flags and shields. Drums beat insistently. Cultists chanted as they crossed the Forum, drawing a large and boisterous crowd. More and more soldiers surrounded her in defensive formations as she walked to her chariot.

She’d donned the new purple robes she’d been fitted for, embroidered with a decorative border and tied with a golden rope. She wore golden hoop earrings with suspended pearls and a necklace with an engraved intaglio at the centre: a ruby engraved with the seal of Minerva. Her father’s laurel crown had also been set with pearls, diamonds and rubies, forming flowers that entwined around the golden leaves.

‘Did I tell you how imperial you look today?’ said Gia, leaning in so none could hear them.

She walked beside Claudia, wearing the goddess-made armour, now shiny again after a visit from the palace blacksmith, with sandals that wound around her calves and bronze cuffs on her wrists. Gia had also been equipped with a new sword and shield, both welded with a metal relief of Claudia’s emblematic lioness.

‘You did, but I never tire of hearing it.’

‘You look very imperial,’ Gia repeated.

‘And you…’

Claudia admired her dark brown hair scraped back into a braid and wound tightly at the back of her head, her tanned muscles oiled, her brows defined. She had the most beguiling features, the sharp angles of her face as beautiful in rest as they were in action.

Her heart fluttered, forcing her to sigh longingly.

‘You are very distracting,’ Claudia said. ‘Yet you are also the only thing keeping me planted in reality. It’s surreal, like I’m in a play… Maybe I’m still dreaming, or perhaps we are dead. We died back in that cave and everything since has been an enchanting illusion.’

‘I do not think I would’ve imagined Marcellus,’ said Gia, pulling a face of great distaste.

‘Who could have believed we would be standing here, together? Anything is possible.’

They were careful with their words, overly aware of all who were listening, but their eyes said everything.

Claudia and Gia would ride in a chariot near the end of the parade, after the horses and chariots. Directly in front and behind them were a legion of soldiers. Four others would ride with them: two soldiers and two praetorian guardsmen. Cassius had offered to serve as one of the soldiers and Claudia had gladly agreed. Marcellus rode in the third chariot, with Damocles and Hieronymus.

Gia and Claudia climbed aboard, with the four guards arranging their shields to form a wall of protection around the empress. The horns and drums grew louder as they set off along the edge of the Forum, advancing through the crowds. The music was a familiar sound: the same heraldic march that was always played at events. Claudia found that it comforted her, despite everything.

At the head of the parade were girls with flower baskets and boys playing drums. They were followed by flag bearers and dancers. Behind them, a dozen priestesses performed rituals, followed by the guardians of the shrines and temples of the goddesses, each wearing costumes that signalled their deities.

Minerva’s priestess wore her characteristic fringed helmet. Diana’s priestess carried a bow and arrow. Venus’s priestess walked barefoot and wore a necklace of shells, while Fortuna’s spun her golden globe, her eyes tied by a blindfold. Claudia had been sure to include Victoria and Salacia too, to thank them for their service.

The streets were filled with curious Romans who came to spectate the historic event, regardless of their opinions on the new empress. Soldiers lined the roads too, though there were notably less of them than usual: some had likely refused to participate in the confirmation of an empress, if not fled their duties altogether. Those senators who’d voted for Claudia walked the parade route ahead, greeting the citizens who’d come out to mark the event.

Claudia noticed that were a large number of women in attendance, including young girls.

She waved at them as they passed, her chest swelling.