Without warning, tears pricked into her eyes. Except for Octavian, nothing seemed to have changed since the night of the attack on the estate. They were all there and she was the only one who seemed to feel the years behind them.

Tubruk shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at Octavian’s fascinated expression.

“Close your mouth, boy. There’s work to be done before you sleep tonight.” He nodded to Alexandria. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk while I show Octavian his duties.” He shook his head at Brutus, then led Octavian away with a firm grip.

Left alone in the darkening courtyard, Brutus and Alexandria spoke at the same time, broke off, and started to speak again.

“Sorry,” Brutus tried again.

“No, I acted a fool. It’s been such a long time since I was here and with Tubruk and you . . . and Renius; it all came back.”

“I never told Julius we’d slept together,” he continued, stepping closer. She was very beautiful, he noted, one of those women who looked best in the twilight. Her eyes were large and dark and the way her head tilted up at him made him want to kiss her. He remembered how they had, once, before Marius had given him his papers for the legion post in Greece.

“Tubruk didn’t say Julius was here,” she said.

He shook his head. “We’re still waiting for news. He was ransomed in Africa, but he should be on his way back by now. Nothing is really the same as it was, you know. You’re a freewoman, I’ve been a centurion, and Renius has lost the ability to juggle.”

She giggled suddenly at the image and he took the moment to gather her in once more. This time, she returned the embrace, though when he tried to kiss her, she turned her head slightly away.

“I can’t even give you a proper welcome?” he said in astonishment.

“You are a terrible man, Marcus Brutus. I haven’t been pining away waiting for you, you know,” she replied.

“I have. I’m half the man I used to be,” he replied with a sad shake of his head. “I want your permission to see you, and if I don’t get it, I may waste away altogether.”

He sighed like a broken bellows and they laughed together easily, without embarrassment.

Before she could answer, a call sounded from the lookout on the gate, making Alexandria jump.

“Riders and cart approaching,” the slave called down.

“How many?” Brutus responded, stepping away from her. All trace of his flirtation vanished, and if anything, Alexandria preferred his new manner to the old.

“Three men on horses—one cart pulled by oxen. The men are armed.”

“Tubruk! Renius! Primigenia to the gate,” Brutus ordered. Soldiers came out of the estate buildings, a file of twenty men in armor that made Alexandria gasp.