Jula sat still in the dark, her eyelids fastened shut, watching the images evolve across them. Her brain gave up to her every last detail, as it never had in her former living of this life. Every page had finally become accessible, every line. Total recall. And so, she watched the dinner guests at Julus’s festive supper, that night at the villa in Stagna Maris, long ago. There they were, reclining on their couches, Voluminis, the Scroll, Stirius the bald man, each lying on their left side, supported by an elbow, but Drusus, the greedy hog, flat on his belly, resting on both arms, his hands agile in the dishes from much practice. That night, obsessed with the Ethiopian, she had not truly noticed them, or so she believed. But she had seen everything. Her eyes moving speedily over the room, lowered always at once, as a slave’s eyes must be—had taken in so much. The bellaria was laid out on the tables, the cakes and flowers, the saffron pastries crumbled with almonds.
What do You think about Venus Preserved (Secret Books Of Venus Series)?
