Blood of the Laurel

ple of Vesta didn't

s. In chants. In bla

lesh. Slaves slipped poisons into senator's goblets. Bakers burned imperial bread in

turned agai

or

ire, it wa

ople, it

idn't l

the crowds in the square chant her name. "You started a

staring at the statue of her father-a noble ca

ant me," she

want r

nning. "Lucky us, then.

Marcus iss

name Thorn will be

mark of the laure

ds, or the

ead it i

ffed. "He'

parchment slowly

rial villa, Marcus sto

furious. "S

he was a girl I loved

harp and cold.

l," he

orrow, old and bu

ombs, standing before a mural of the old g

oice, like s

ll love

"Then he'll die with t