A Day of Fire: A Novel of Pompeii by Kate Quinn, Ben Kane, Stephanie Dray, Michelle Moran, E. Knight, Sophie Perinot, Vicky Alvear Shecter Read Free Book Online

with a nod and went toward my mother’s chambers.
    “Gaius!” she yelped when she saw me. “By Jupiter, what has happened to you?”
    “Nothing of importance,” I said. “Mother, you must call off the interrogation of the household slaves immediately—“
    “But your uncle is beside himself. He was so agitated I insisted he take a sunbath and a cold plunge—“
    “Listen to me. You must tell him to call it off. I have … found his things. And as soon as I get cleaned up I will bring them to him.”
    She looked at me quizzically. “But how …”
    “Mother, it is a long, convoluted story which I will discuss only with him. Please do as I say.”
    After a quick plunge in the baths, I knew I could delay no longer. I grabbed the things I had taken from him and walked slowly up the outdoor terrace stairs. If Uncle disowned me, this could be my last time. I paused, taking a deep breath, which only made my ribs twinge with pain. Gods, I didn’t want to do this. But I was no longer a child, right?
    In the corner of every marble step stood a painted pot overflowing with pink and white flowers. The sun glittered off the calm waters of the bay, shining like precious gems—here turquoise, there sapphire, and dark lapis lazuli out into the gulf. Sea breezes rustled the potted palms clustered in the corner of the terrace. I wondered if condemned men facing execution experienced this kind of almost painful visual clarity of the beauty around them. Again, a part of me screamed to run, to get away, to hide from what I’d done. But still, I climbed, one heavy foot after another.
    I found my uncle dozing in the shade of an inner room facing the sea. His chin rested on his chest, nestled within the folds of his neck, a partially unrolled scroll on his lap. I stared down at him, surprised to see him looking so vulnerable, so … so soft in sleep. Ocean breezes had ruffled his gray hair into a boyish mess and his thick fingers were smudged with ink. It was easy to imagine him as a young child with dirt-caked hands in that moment. But then I remembered that he was already leading armed attacks in Germania as an officer at twenty-three. Only six years older than I was. It seemed inconceivable to me that I would ever command that kind of respect.
    With a sigh, I dragged a heavy chair over the tiled floor, knowing that the sound would wake him in a way that we could both pretend he hadn’t been sleeping.
    “Gaius!” he said, his bloodshot eyes flying open as he raised his head. “Plinia tells me you found my things! I don’t understand how that is possible but surely the gods were smiling down upon such a strange coincidence—“
    “Uncle,” I interrupted, sitting heavily. “I did not ‘find’ your missing scroll and signet ring.” I pointed to the things I’d placed on a small round table between us. “I took them.”
    He stared at me slack jawed. “I don’t understand. But you left for Pompeii days ago. I used my signet ring the day after you left!”
    I nodded. “I snuck home in the night.”
    He blinked several times. “But … but why ? Why would you do such a thing?”
    Taking a deep breath, I began the whole story. “In Pompeii, there is … there was , a girl.”
    As I finished, Uncle squinted out to sea, his brow furrowed into deep, dark ruts. Only the occasional squawk of a sea gull broke the heavy silence.
    Despite his expression, I was relieved the worst was over. I had spoken the truth. I had admitted to my terrible acts of theft and cowardice. A strange sense of calm descended over me. Was this momentary relief and lightness the “virtue” the senator meant?
    “You do understand we were rounding up the slaves to begin the interrogations,” Uncle said, sounding tired.
    The full realization of what he meant hit me hard. By law, every one of our slaves would’ve been tortured in the process of investigating the thefts. Whoever broke under the torture and admitted to the theft—even if they were lying