Hadrian blinked. He lay in bed propped up by pillows, a film of sweat still sheening his bare shoulders. A lamp cast its warm light over the rumpled blankets, the high corniced ceiling, the statue in the corner of a Greek warrior carved in the act of throwing his spear. “This is unexpected,” Hadrian said at last.

Sabina crossed the floor, white robe whispering around her feet, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Let’s go to Athens.”

She saw she’d managed to surprise him twice in as many minutes. “What?”

“Forget the Parthian invasion,” she said. “Forget becoming governor of Syria. Forget your consular duties. Let’s go to Greece. That tour we always planned: Athens and Corinth and Sparta, the little islands with those white cliffs and jewel-blue seas. Let’s take ship and keep going all the way to Troy. Let’s just get out of Rome.”

For a moment she thought she saw a gleam in his eye. The old gleam, from the Hadrian who waved his arms in the air when enthusiasm for the world’s mysteries carried him away. But then he looked down at the bedclothes, straightening the crumpled folds precisely, and his businesslike frown returned. “In the future, perhaps. Not now.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’d rather be arguing with stubborn old men in the Senate house than riding a mule up the hills of Delphi to see the Oracle.”

“It isn’t what I want that matters.”

“So it’s all about what Plotina wants instead?” Sabina lifted her eyebrows. “I thought you were your own man, Publius Aelius Hadrian.”

“It isn’t about Plotina at all. She merely helps me to achieve what is mine.”

“And what is yours? The Third Parthica? The governorship of Syria?”

“Among other things.”

Hadrian reached for a book he’d placed on the table by the bed, unrolling the scroll. Sabina leaned closer and put her hand over the page, blocking his view. He exhaled a short breath through his nose.

“You know this is the first time I’ve seen you reading in weeks?” Sabina said lightly.

“I have been busy.”

“You were never too busy to read before.” She kept her voice gentle. “What’s changed you?”

“Have I changed?”

“You used to talk to me.”

“You used to interest me.”

“Don’t think you can distract me by hurting me, Hadrian. I don’t love you enough for you to be able to hurt me.” She reached out and took his big hand between hers. “But I do care for you. And I know you aren’t happy.”

He disengaged her hands and rose abruptly. Sabina watched the muscles move under the skin in the warm lamplight as he shouldered into a tunic to cover his nakedness. He was a fine figure of a man, her husband. So much hunting kept him strong and fit.