He gave a wintry flick of a smile, already reaching for the pile of scrolls and tablets that awaited him for the morning’s business. He’d washed before coming to the breakfast table; his toga was pleated into crisp folds along one shoulder, his beard was trimmed, his hands clean. Quite different from the man Sabina had watched from her window at dawn, steering his horse into the yard with a rough hand, splashed head to toe with blood and mud as his retainers trooped behind him with the deer’s carcass. No doubt Hadrian had dismounted his horse to cut the doe’s throat with his own hand. He preferred to finish off his kills up close.

“We’ve already got more venison than we can eat,” Sabina said. As much hunting as he did, their slaves and tenants were awash in game. “I’ll have this one carted off to one of your clients as a gift.”

“As you please.” Once the kill was done, Hadrian had no interest in what he’d bagged. “I won’t be back for dinner tonight. I dine with Senator Ruricus.”

“How lovely for you.” Sabina gave a swift, teasing glance. “He has such pretty freedmen.”

Another glance, considerably more wintry. When did I lose the ability to tease him? Sabina wondered. A few years ago such a comment would have won her a reluctant smile, or at most the faintly irritated flick of an eyebrow. Now, his voice could have frozen the barley water in her cup as he spoke. “I do not question your activities, madam.”

“Actually, you question my activities frequently.” Another change, in recent years. Where did you go? Whom did you see? Why did you smile?

“I don’t question your activities,” Hadrian returned. “Merely your discretion.” He rolled up the scroll with a snap and reached for another. Sabina sipped her barley water, watching him thoughtfully. The pink light on the walls had gone to gold; down in the street below she heard the creak of wheels as carts began their daily rumbling past.

Hadrian glanced up again. “I wish you would not wear that.” He indicated her wrist, where she’d looped an oddly interlaced little charm of thin knotted rope.

“I like it.”

“It looks heathen.”