I stamped back to the fort in a white rage, kicking everything that got in my path. Fight me, I hoped, somebody pick a fight—but the whole bloody Tenth was in a good mood and no one was drunk enough yet for fights. I saw a centurion hugging his woman in one arm and his son in the other, the boy wearing his father’s helmet—I saw a cluster of shouting swaggering legionaries push toward the nearest tavern and get sidetracked by a pair of admiring girls tossing flowers at them from an upper window—I saw everybody happy, everybody but the bloody hero.

A horribly cheery clerk greeted me at the principia. “The new aquilifer? I’ve heard of you. Yes, you can leave the eagle with me.”

I surrendered her over. She’d live in the chapel now with a permanent guard, keeping her haughty watch over the bust of the Emperor and everything else that the legion held precious. I’d carry her out only if we did a route march or went on campaign again. I looked up at her as she was planted in place, and she stared arrogantly down at me.

Sabina had worn an eagle brooch on each shoulder, with the same proud tilt to their gold heads. Why had she done that?

“Are you the one who killed Decebalus?” the clerk asked, and recoiled at my snarl.

I shoved out of the principia, still glowering. I didn’t want to get drunk, I didn’t want a celebration; I just wanted another fight. No, what I wanted was another war, something long and savage and preferably bloody. My feet took me halfway to my old quarters, but I stopped and realized that they weren’t my quarters anymore. I didn’t have a contubernium now, just an eagle with the double pay and double danger that came with it. I had no idea where the aquilifer slept when at home in the fort.

I contemplated going back to the clerk, but one more look at his cheery face and I’d probably break it, and then that bastard Hadrian would have me flogged. I had another wave of rage as I thought of his cold black gaze, meeting my eyes over Sabina’s sleek head. He’d probably screw her tonight—one of his yearly visits. Turn her over and pretend she was a boy, and then they’d go swanning off to Pannonia together. “How interesting,” I mimicked, and got a puzzled look from the gate guard as I slammed through. “What are you looking at!”

“Nothing,” he said hastily. “You’re lucky, that’s all. Having the day to celebrate. Someone had to draw sentry duty, and wouldn’t you know it’s me—”