draped over the couch next to her and watching her expectantly. All the young women present were, and she realized a question had been posed to her. Perhaps more than once. “Pardon?”
Cordelia smiled and said, “I asked if you’d decided on your dresses for your wedding?”
The gorgeous blond was four years Lydia’s senior, and by virtue of being Senator Domitius’s eldest daughter and of her marriage to a rising star of the Senate, Cordelia was considered one of the most influential women in Celendrial. She was, in Lydia’s opinion, certainly the most meddlesome.
Averting her gaze, Lydia replied, “Lucius intends to select them.”
“Ugh!” Cordelia’s face scrunched up in horror. “He has garish taste. You must take over the task.”
The last thing Lydia wanted was to waste her time on dresses she had no interest in wearing, but she couldn’t very well say that. Especially not with Lucius sitting with the group of men only a dozen paces away, the glass in his hand shaking as he laughed at something another senator had said. “I have other matters that demand too much of my time, I’m afraid.” She waved a hand at one of the servants to refill the women’s glasses, hoping the topic of conversation would change.
“Such as?”
No such luck.
“My studies,” she said. “I’m writing a paper—”
Cordelia interrupted her with a very unladylike snort. “You are so delightfully self-involved.”
Lydia sat up straight, less for the insult and more for Cordelia’s tone. There was anger in it, but for the life of her, Lydia couldn’t understand what she’d done to provoke the young woman. “Excuse me?” she demanded, but Ulpia leaned in. “Let her be, Cordelia. Lydia is a scholar—she’s above things like dresses and wedding planning.”
It was difficult not to wince. Since the announcement of her engagement, Ulpia had been pestering Lydia with invitations and calling cards. But old habits died hard, and it seemed like Ulpia couldn’t help getting her barbs in when she could.
“Let’s talk about something different,” Ulpia said. “I heard that the Thirty-Seventh Legion will be taking a turn policing Celendrial. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I consider that a fortuitous turn of events.”
One of the other girls made an aggrieved noise. “How can you say such a thing, Ulpia? Might as well wish for a legion of wild dogs to maintain order.”
Ulpia laughed and waved a hand at the girl. “I’ve seen them up close, and rest assured, they are not dogs.” Leaning in conspiratorially, she said, “They’re all nineteen. Old enough to be men, unlike the Forty-First”—she named the younger legion camped outside the city—“but not old and weathered and sour like the Twenty-Seventh. Something fine to look at for the next two years, if you ask me.”
“The Senate won’t allow a legion like the Thirty-Seventh control over Celendrial,” Cordelia snapped. “Not with their reputation.”
Lydia was inclined to agree. The Thirty-Seventh was responsible for the conquest of Chersome, the southern island having been the last nation to hold out against the Empire’s might. Chersome had resisted hard and paid a steep price for it, for it was said the fires the Thirty-Seventh Legion had set still burned across the island nation.
“If they aren’t here to police the city,” Ulpia said, interrupting Lydia’s thoughts, “then why are they here? Hmm?”
“How should I know?” Cordelia sipped from her glass. “The better question is: What were you doing in a legion camp, Ulpia?”
Several of the girls covered their mouths and giggled, and Ulpia’s cheeks reddened. “I heard tours of their camp were possible and Vibius obliged my curiosity.”
“A camp full of stinking soldiers. Sounds delightful.” Cordelia shifted her weight, holding her glass out for a servant to refill. “Tell me, Ulpia. While you were on this tour, did you happen to get an introduction to the Thirty-Seventh’s legatus?”
It wasn’t precisely an unexpected question given the infamy of the legion’s young commander, but there was something about Cordelia’s tone that made Lydia turn to look at her. Something that made her think the question was more than idle curiosity.
“No, I didn’t meet him. But I’ve heard he’s a fine thing to look upon.” Ulpia flicked her hair over her shoulder; then her eyes turned sly. “Marital bed grown cool and you need a bit of soldier blood to heat it up again? How very like a Domitius to set her eyes on the man at the very top.”
It wasn’t like Cordelia to rise to any form of bait, but Lydia found the older girl’s blue-grey