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I join Atlas on the chariot He rides as s he has not earned in ht “He’s a good man, Flavinius,” he drawls “Be a shame to waste him”

“Is that a warning?” I ask

“Advice, rather” He glances at Glirastes on the horse next to Rhone’s “It see men”

“I kno to handle Atalantia”

“That would make you the first”

I lean past Atlas and press a DNA scanner on the side of the chariot There’s a thrum as the reinforced pulseShield flickers into place, distorting the world around, and encasing the entirety of the passenger co to take a direct hit from a pilum missile

Atlas chuckles “A pro start”

—

Truirl walks ahead ofher, she finds her way to the crimson curtain that hides us from the crowd She pushes the torch into the wool Flames lick upward When they have consumed all but the topmost remnants of the curtain, my charioteer snaps the reins and the chariot rolls forward

We are sed by noise A street cleared of rubble bisects a sea of huht Millions roar on the ground, on the rooftops Trumpets blast Bells clatter on horses The sound washes over uard lines the parade route Not Votuions

I feel the chill of the past

The Praetorians have returned Thousands of purple-and-black-clad lance back at Rhone He smiles and bellows “Praetorians!”

“Ad lucem!”

“Lune!”

“INVICTUS!”