48. Drown

Drown

Rose

It does grow on you, the sapa . Over the last clipse I’ve grown fond of the drink, and fond of the ritual of it in general. Every day at the same time, in the same place, I drink the sweet dark liquid and it takes the edge off. Each sip dilutes the plebian parts of me.

This is what the patricians do.

Best of all, Tristan is there. His hands are never on me. He’s not whispering sweet words or setting me on fire with his hands and his lips. He just… talks.

He lets me know him. Learn him.

And I’m greedy for it.

“It’s a pathetic excuse for reform.” Tristan sips his sapa , letting the glass dangle from his fingertips with an ease that would make even the gods jealous.

“Isn’t that the one about the Sabines?” I ask, leaning forward. Tristan is not fond of the changes that Augustus has been advocating for.

“Yes, the one my idiot brother brought to Senator Marcus.” He’s also not fond of Senator Marcus.

“It’s not a good bill?” I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask about politics, but I usually do. I certainly can’t give advice, but a good wife would listen to her husband and empathize with him, no matter the topic. Besides, Tristan talks longer when I do.

“It places all the responsibility on the Imperator instead of on the people. If people want to buy sabines, sabines will be for sale. That’s the way of the world.”

“Oh,” I say. Without The Sabines, would the same women just be sold somewhere else? Maybe they’d be even more mistreated without the oversight of a building?

Tristan waves a hand. “Enough unpleasantness. How are you enjoying the domus?”

His hand reaches across the table and I smile at him, grasping his cool palm. “It’s beautiful here.” It is. It’s beautiful and grand; and so, so lonely.

I’ve spent my life with Daisy sleeping next to me; sharing space, sharing air, sharing life. Now, I sleep alone. I spend most of my days alone. And besides appearing at sapa , I’m expected to do… nothing. At least as far as I can tell. I think after marriage I’m meant to take a role with Camilla, running the domus domestically. And of course, trying to give Tristan a son.

My stomach twists and I’m not sure which makes me more nervous. Tristan hasn’t asked to be thanked again, and I’m grateful. Not that I don’t want to learn to please him, I do.

We’re just supposed to wait. I’ve always known this.

I want to wait until after our wedding. I want to do things the way I’m supposed to. I also want to make Tristan happy.

“Rosebud?” Tristan asks. I must have missed what he said.

“Yes, Tristan?” I smile, drowning my doubts with another sip of sapa . Taking the edge off the uncertainty.

“I said, do you need anything?” He’s beginning to stand and I realize this is his way of ending sapa . He doesn’t stay long with all of his important work waiting for him.

“No.” I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m quite content.”

Tristan leans down, capturing my lips. I wait for the heat from before, but it doesn’t come. Perhaps my senses are dulled by the drink. Perhaps I've had too much. “Of course you are.” His hand dips behind my head and he kisses me more forcefully, as if he can tell my heart isn’t in it.

I kiss him back, arching into his hand. He likes when I do that.

“Rosebud,” he groans into my mouth. “I won’t see you until the wedding.”

It’s in two days. I bite my lip. “I won’t see you tomorrow?”

He looks down at me, shaking his head softly. “I have meetings and I’m attending a new temple.” I tilt my head to the side and he continues, “If it ends up being something I enjoy, I’ll bring you sometime. For now, it’s just an experiment.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. A day without sapa means a full day alone, watching the twins dance around each other or pretending to read.

But I needn’t hide anything, because Tristan is already turning away.