“You don’t mind if I rest now, do you?” Plotina asked her husband, curling up beside him on the nest of blankets. “We never did share a bed together, not even on the night of our wedding. So cold. You’re cold now, but I suppose one can’t have everything.”

Empress Pompeia Plotina put her head on her husband’s stiff shoulder and fell happily asleep.

CHAPTER 27

SABINA

Sabina stormed into the room Plotina had transformed into a study, and the former Empress bowed very low indeed at the sight of her. “My dear,” Trajan’s widow smiled. “I fear I have been neglecting you. So very busy, but of course that is no excuse, is it? You, after all, are the Empress of Rome now.”

Sabina did not stop to reflect on her new title, though it was the first time she had heard it. She just hit Plotina fast and hard across the face, not a dainty slap but a close-fisted hammer of a blow that she’d seen centurions deal out to disobedient soldiers. The impact sent a jolt of furious pleasure through her like a spear shaft. “You bitch,” she said, and had to fight to keep her voice even. “You know Trajan would have rather died than have your precious Publius take the purple.”

As one, the slaves bolted out of the room without waiting to be dismissed.

“But Trajan is dead.” Plotina’s face remained serene, though one sallow cheek now glowed red. “And I am pleased to say he had a change of heart shortly before he went to the gods. He was able to dictate a letter to the Senate announcing his true choice.”

“Yes, the letter you signed. When did he ever have you sign anything for him before?”

“My dear, he was too weak to hold the pen.”

“Too weak? He was already dead! He died, and you dictated that letter for him!”

“An empress really shouldn’t put stock in such wild rumors.”

Sabina flung herself down into the nearest chair, crossing one leg over the other in the way that she knew irritated Plotina. “And this letter is your only proof?”

“Hardly.” Plotina seated herself behind the folding desk—Trajan’s desk, Trajan’s lamps and rugs and couches, transported from the trireme to this damp stony little room to give the Empress—the former Empress—all the comfort she required. “My husband verbally announced his intention to adopt Hadrian as his son and heir. There are witnesses.”

“I heard about them too. Standing well back in a darkened room while you wept over a corpse’s hand. If you really wanted witnesses, why wasn’t I allowed to be present?”

“I was told you were in bed with your latest lover. A legionary, I believe?”