41. Yours

Yours

Rose

Tristan arrives, unannounced, to take me to dinner. He’s quiet as we walk to his familia’s domus, the suns reflecting off the surface of the Maero and the scent of orange blossoms and myrtle masking the wet smell of the river.

“Did you have a pleasant day?” he asks, guiding me away from the yellowish, rushing water of the Maero.

“I did.” I lean into him. Romulus is starting to dip in the sky and our dual shadows overlap at the ends. “How was yours?”

“Fine,” he says. “It was fine.”

I try to glean a few more words from him, but he answers me in only a handful of staccato sentences.

He doesn’t take me inside, instead leading me behind the domus to the gardens. The orange trees and grape vines sway in the light breeze, and I can’t help a small shiver that moves through me. There is a small table set for two, with large clear glasses and an assortment of bread, cheese, and grapes. Servants line the walkway, holding lanterns and pitchers and trays.

“Tristan, this is beautiful.” I turn to him, but he doesn’t smile, his face as still as the marble of Mars.

“Sit,” he says, pulling out my chair.

I take my seat, the hair at the back of my neck prickling. The silent servants glide in as soon as Tristan sits and pour us both a generous glass of sapa . Tristan waves them away, dismissal etched in each muscle.

He drains his sapa , then sits back, crossing his arms.

Still, he doesn’t speak. “Tristan, is something the matter?” I ask. Tension rises in me, intensifying with each breath.

“Where were you today?” he asks, leaning forward. I finally see what I didn’t before. He’s not quiet; he’s angry. His jaw is set, eyes wide.

“I went to the forum with my sister,” I say. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, what’s upset him.

“That’s interesting, because it looked like you went to the forum with my brother,” he says. His voice is level, calm, but I know better.

“We ran into him there, that’s all.”

“It looked like more than a run in.”

He followed me. Something hot and irritated tries to rise, but I shove it back down. Stay sweet, I remind myself. “I was talking to him about Daisy,” I say, thinking if he knows Augustus wasn’t interested in knowing me, it would help.

I’m wrong. Tristan stands, and he quivers with it, his rage. He takes his empty glass, and smashes it against the cobblestones, glass scattering in tiny silver shards. “I told you I was taking care of it,” he screams, then tosses mine less vigorously. The shards glint with red sapa I hadn’t had an opportunity to drink, a dark puddle sinking into the cobblestones. He looms over me, tense and angry.

I don’t bother correcting him, although he’d said nothing of the sort. I don’t move my feet away from the glass and I certainly don’t cry. Instead, I do what I know works best.

“I’m sorry, Tristan. He overheard us talking.” Tristan heaves a breath, looking down at the glass. I reach my hand out to his. “I would never ask him for help rather than you.” I wrap my fingers around his, tugging him closer. The movement masks my trembling.

“I’m yours,” I remind him. His head snaps up at that, eyes searching mine. I pull him even closer.

“I need to know where you are. Who you’re with. I need to keep you safe.”

I nod. “You’re right. I thought I’d be safe with him since he’s your brother.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. I told you, he’s not a good man.”

He is though. Between trying to close the Sabines and looking out for Daisy, he is. But Tristan is a good man, too. He saved me. And if he wants me to stay away from Augustus, then I will. It’s probably better anyways, considering the traitorous heat that rose in me this afternoon.

“I’ll stay away from him,” I promise us both.

Tristan comes closer, resting a hand on either side of my chair. He leans down, capturing me with his lips. “Say it again,” he pleads.

“I’m yours.” I don’t need to ask what he meant.

“Again,” he says into my mouth, hands tangling into my hair. He tips my head back, deepening his kiss.

“I’m yours.”

He swallows the words, again and again, bruising my lips with his kisses. I’m back in my domus, in the dark on my pallet with Daisy, before I realize he never once said it back.