Nathan didn't look back.
Servilia's confusion lingered behind him like a fog he refused to acknowledge. He had said all he needed to—"Don't waste your tears on Caesar."
That was his strange way to comfort Servilia.
Any more, and Caesar would've noticed. His presence was suffocating, even when unseen, like the eyes of a god carved into stone, watching from the corners of every column.
Nathan hadn't planned to speak to her at all, not yet. Even a passing word held risk in Caesar's domain. But he hadn't said more than necessary, and that alone was a calculated mercy.
