If Claudius could laugh, he would. "Far from it. He led me to believe I was dying once, then suggested I deserved it, if I couldn't humble myself and beg for mercy. He apologized later -- when a truth spell compelled me to admit it still stung. But there were obstacles to us becoming friends. A jealous, unreasonable lover who wouldn't let him out of sight at parties. The same one who accused me of conspiracy, who I was supposed to beg for mercy." Even if his tone is flat, the words at least take the familiar shape of storytelling, the absurd and terrifying events of his life retold as thrilling gossip. Right now there's no thrill, only the frank recognition that he was never truly safe. Violence came to him early. It must be attracted to him, Claudius thinks, like flies to a carrion flower.

"I would've liked to have known Shen Yuan better," he says. "He had a fascinating mind."