New Rome

16. Crown of Thorns

Wylo stared at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze frosty with hostility. It was Pàxiū's day and she was wearing the customary attire – a gauzy veil secured over her hair. She pulled down the material's fringe so that it covered her eyes, the soft tassels hanging down to knock against her chin. Gritting her teeth, she secured a crown of thistles atop her head. Her grandmother had ordered her not to wear dark clothing and to remove her wedding ring. Wylo rubbed her wedding finger. She'd removed the ring many times herself – for work purposes – but now, it felt like a betrayal.

Wylo opened her desk drawer, searching through the odd pieces of makeup that she'd been gifted and never used. Her fingers encased a vial of black nail varnish. With a rebellious thrill, Wylo painted only the nail on her wedding finger. It was a simple act of defiance, the only she dared to make – but it made her feel a little better at least. This would have been her first Pàxiū's day with Guy since they'd married, she sighed heavily. If she were honest, she'd probably have spent it working – but perhaps not. Perhaps they'd have spent it together.

Her grandparents didn't send her a shuttle to take her to the House of Red and the commute shuttle wasn't operating that day. Wylo had to take the journey in stages, climbing ladders to go above ground to take cars to the various safe points and then climbing down to walk the tunnels to the next connection point where she could climb up again. It took the whole morning and by the time she made it to the final leg of her journey, she was sweaty and in an foul temper.

The final stage was by a small ferry shuttle between the Library of Vision and Virtue and the House of Red. The shuttle was packed with freed men, who had been invited back to the House of Red for the holiday. They at least recognised Wylo, and offered her their seats – giving her a row to herself. Normally, she would have let them to sit down comfortably beside her but she was too angry to realise why everyone was standing silently in the carriage. Her mind was engaged with internal ranting about her grandmother. Today was going to be about her grandmother taming her and Wylo was seething at the injustice of it all.

Once she was finally at the House of Red, Wylo was kept waiting. Her grandparents, it seemed, were in no hurry to see her. She had to sit in a room adjoining reception, a glass of algae in hand – the recipient of many curious glances. They're wondering what I've done to lose favour, Wylo supposed. That or they'd read the reports that she was under investigation for fraud. Wylo hung her head, eyes closed, wishing she could disappear into the carpet.

"Lady Wylo," a maid finally called for her. Wylo clicked her aching joints as she rose to her feet.

"Happy Pàxiū's day." Wylo muttered, her tone thick with bitterness. The hallways were quieter than usual, since all the nobles and politicians were at home celebrating with their families. The maid led her through the labyrinth and Wylo took the time to compose her expression, she didn't want to give her grandmother the satisfaction of seeing her rattled.

When she was at last shown into the Assembly rooms, she found a perfect family tableau set out before her. The Imperator was with his grandson, Agrippa, showing him the perfect golf swing. Livia's lap dogs were causing chaos all over the place, being chased by a laughing Aemilia. Julia was watching her grandfather and brother, offering them advice and compliments. The colossus Daviad was taking up an entire sofa and standing around him were a few freedmen, who were laughing along with something the former consul had said. Livia had her back to Wylo and was engaged with talking with her favourite grandchild, Elligah.