51. Choice

Choice

Rose

The halls stretch out before me, dual shadows caging me in on the way back to my room. The wedding looms ahead of us, but I don’t have to plan anything. Camilla will take care of it all. My choices would probably be too plebeian, anyways.

Once I reach my rooms I’ll be there for the night, so instead of heading straight back, I begin looking for a detour. Certainly there is more to see here.

To my right is another long, mostly dark corridor with a number of doors off the main hall; perhaps one of them—

“Ouch!”

My body collides with something warm and impossibly large.

“Gods,” I rub my face and look up into Augustus' sheepish face. “Didn’t you see me?”

“Didn't you see me?” he retorts.

“What’s down there?” I point down the hall I’d been staring at, refusing to look at him.

“Guest rooms, but the wing is closed right now.” Augustus shrugs. “Not enough guests, I suppose.” He’s staring at me, and I refuse to meet his eyes. “You have a habit of running into me.”

“Perhaps you have a habit of being in my way.” The words have left me before I’ve calibrated them and my hand flies to my mouth.

Augustus just laughs. “Ah yes, no idea where Daisy gets her spirit, huh?”

“ She’s rubbing off on me ,” I defend.

Augustus grabs my elbow, leading me to the side of the hall where we won’t be noticed immediately if someone were to come this way. He’s not laughing now. “I wanted to talk to you about Daisy.”

My stomach sinks to my toes. “What?”

I can’t look away from him now. His eyes are searching and for a moment I’m frozen in their depths. Our chests are a breath away, and his warmth seeps through the air and into me. My eyelids flutter and I take a shaky breath in. “Augustus?”

He clears his throat. “I think I found Daisy a match. My friend is a good man, his familia is at the lower end of patricians but they do well enough to waive a dowry. He’s in the legions, though, and won’t be back for two quads.”

Two quads.

Daisy can hold out that long. Besides, Tristan had said she could move in here after the wedding. He would keep his word.

“I know it’s not ideal, but he’s a good man. I wanted to make sure it was someone I could trust.”

Something swells in my throat. “Thank you.” It’s everything and not enough all at once.

“But Rose?” Augustus reaches down, taking my hand.

I stare at it a moment, his callouses and warmth searing my flesh. I want to lean in and I want to step away. “Tristan wouldn’t like this.”

“Rose, I could find you a match… too.”

The warmth evaporates and I try to move away in earnest, but Augustus tightens his grip.

I’m shaking my head, but he goes on. “You don’t have to marry him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s not like you think he is,” Augustus whispers, his words urgent.

“He saved me,” I hiss. He might be right. Tristan isn’t how I thought. But did I think things would be easy and perfect? My life has never been either of those things. Tristan’s saving me in more ways than one. Soon he will save Daisy, too.

“Why was he there?”

“What?”

“Why was Tristan right by The Sabines when you needed him?” Augustus asks.

I shake my head, refusing to question the circumstances of my rescue. “I got lucky. Would you rather I be sold right now? Chained up in that… that place? With the type of monsters who patronize that place?”

“Don’t you understand? It’s a prettier place, but the monsters here are the same.”

I rear back as if I’ve been slapped, the words striking through me with white hot fear.

“He loves me.”

“He loves nothing,” Augustus growls.

“What other choice did I have?” I snap back. The words are low, angry. How dare he bring this to me now? Tristan saved me. He loves me.

“Me,” Augustus says and I’m shaking my head before the word has left his mouth.

“I can’t do this. I love Tristan. I won’t betray him.” For a bitter, hopeless, disgusting moment, I remember being on my knees in front of Tristan and consider that Augustus wouldn’t want me anyway, if he knew. That there’s no choice, now that I’ve been dishonored. Ironic, considering what Tristan once said about his brother. I shove that thought aside, pretending it never existed to begin with. “You should go.”

Augustus doesn’t say anything for a moment, studying my face. “I’m going, Rose. Pater’s sending me away this clipse. I don’t know that I’ll be here to protect you.”

From my husband? “I don’t need you to worry about me.” I hold my chin high, daring him to argue.

Augustus cups my face, running a thumb along my cheek. Shuddering, I draw back. This isn’t me. I love Tristan. I was made for him.

Augustus' hand lingers in the air, over the ghost of where I stood. His expression nearly breaks my heart. It’s yearning and fear and desperation. It’s all the things I know all too well.

“I’m happy, Augustus.” My words are heavy, suffocating, but I don’t know why. I mean them.

I am happy.

So why does it hurt so much when Augustus leaves without a word?