“A tiresome crossing, if you must know,” Plotina persisted when he did not ask. Her husband had greeted her briefly at the docks when her ship arrived, but excused himself immediately afterward and had not bothered to make an appearance at the noon meal. She’d been forced to hunt him down in his quarters afterward, like a tardy petitioner. “Dear Publius was kind enough to dine with me, did you know? So considerate of him, seeing how busy he is with all the work you’ve given him. And what a good job he makes of it!”

Trajan grunted. Plotina sighed. One of his moods. She’d gotten out of the habit of dealing with them, these past four years. Dear Publius had been far more pleasant company—delight, such sheer delight to see the dear boy’s face again! So handsome, so distinguished. Every inch a young god.

“It looks like a magpie’s nest in here.” Plotina looked about her at the cramped little study. The quarters here in Antioch were entirely unsuitable for an emperor, much less his empress, but her husband had never paid any attention to his surroundings. “I hope you do not expect me to live in this mess?”

“It won’t be for long.” Trajan rolled up a scroll with a snap. “We depart soon for Rome.”

“Rome?” Plotina blinked. “Rather sudden, isn’t it? I’ve just arrived—”

“If you had written before your departure, I’d have had time to write you back. Tell you to spare yourself the journey.”

“Impulsive of me, I know,” Plotina confessed. “Can a wife not be allowed to miss her husband? Even an Imperial wife.”

“Some wives might miss their husbands.” Trajan looked up at her, and she noted again the signs of aging he’d acquired in the past two years since her last visit. The iron-colored hair, the sun-pitted skin, the deep lines. “Not you, Plotina. Not you.”

Plotina forced herself to smile, crossing the room to squeeze his arm. She had dressed as regally as she could in this hot, depraved sinkhole of a city—deep-purple stola, pearls, a diadem crowning her hair. Trajan’s Empress in all her finest, but more than that. His eternal, loyal, capable, trustworthy wife. “Well, at least I’ll be able to tend you myself on the journey back to Rome,” she said brightly. “I’ve been wanting you home so long, I’d quite given up nagging you. Four years away—why now?”