The date was August 24th 79 A.D. and it started like every other day in Pompeii. But the clock is ticking and disaster is about to strike. Daria, the wife of a selfish businessman, is about to find out that there are worse things than a loveless marriage. But through it all, is there any cause for hope?
August 24th 79 A.D.
Daria woke. Her body twanged. Every morning she prayed not to see the sun, but every morning she woke and the sun’s rays mocked her.
Sliding from her bed, liberally festooned in silks and the finest lines money could buy, she bit down on the wince from bruises not yet coloring her pale skin.
She knew Titus expected her to wait for her personal slave to dress her for another day in her own private hell, but Daria wanted no one to see the remnants of the night she’d just endured at her husband’s mercy. Not even her personal attendant, the slave Iola.
Iola arrived in time to help her into her breakfast shawl.
“I won’t need your help until after I break my fast,” Daria said.
The older woman did not respond. She met Daria’s eyes, nodded, and then bowed her way back out of the bedchamber. Iola always knew what her mistress hid beneath her breakfast wear, she’d seen it many times, but there was nothing Daria could do to change what was.
Slipping her tiny feet into her silk slippers, she checked the reflecting glass. Titus would find no cause to chastise, unless she didn’t get to the dining area and was demurely waiting for his arrival. Like the slaves, she had expectations to meet.
Taking one more steadying breath, she schooled her features to show no emotions, and headed for breakfast with a man she detested the most in the entire world.