VIII
INTO THE FRAY
When morning broke on the second day of Veneralia, things felt different, strange even. Stretching upon her bed, Clara wondered if she was not back in Etruria, awoken as ever by birdsong. She opened her eyes slowly, only just able to make out the forest scenes upon the walls of her cubiculum in the dying light of the lamp she had left aflame.
She smiled briefly, for she had dreamed of the past, of happy memories before the complications of life had shredded her naive dreams. As fleeting as their reunion had been, it was good to see her friends again, despite the secrets and bitter resentment in their midst. But her smile faded as her mind awoke and she remembered Rufio’s departure.
Clara’s attention was then taken away by a chorus of snoring all around her, and she r
