What can I say to him that will make him feel better? Lucius wondered. Shall I tell him I have led us to this? That the Gods have abandoned us? That it is all Caracalla’s fault? Lucius closed his eyes for a moment. I don’t even know if any of that is true! He wanted to shout, to rage, but he knew none of it would help. His son needed him, needed reassurance.
Lucius took the sword from his son and laid it on the grass beside him. He tried to hold Phoebus’ gaze before speaking. “I’m sorry, Phoebus. Truly. I didn’t want any of this for you.” He reached up to touch his son’s cheek. “But I do know that the Gods have not abandoned you, your sister, or your mother.”
“And what about you, Baba?” Phoebus looked at his father’s face, the scarred skin, the short, patchy hair spattered with blood. “H
