The Curse-Maker by Kelli Stanley Page B

to catch Sulpicia somewhere other than the exercise windows. Or maybe you want to show her what big muscles you have.”
    We glared at each other. I was trying to treat her like a real partner, and not like a jealous husband, but partners don’t look like wives. Philo would never try to seduce Bilicho.
    â€œHe’s sixty.”
    â€œShe looks sixty without her clothes on.”
    We glared again. Both of us were breathing hard.
    â€œAll right. Talk to Philo. Just don’t let him get near you.”
    â€œSame to you. If I smell any of her scent on you—”
    One of the slaves came in to get the dinner leftovers. Gwyna straightened her tunic, smoothing it over her legs. I got up and paced for exercise.
    *   *   *
    Later I asked her to give me a shave. We changed and strolled into Agricola’s private baths. There were three small pools, with lovely mosaic work in the bottom.
    I sat on a stool near the edge of the caldarium, and she took out some oil and one of the razors. She still wasn’t wearing what she usually wore—when she wore anything at all—but that was at home, and before I’d left for the North.
    She grabbed my chin and forced my face up to look at her.
    â€œArdur—”
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œArdur—pay attention.”
    My hands were crawling down her hips, and she fought not to arch her back.
    â€œListen to me! I—I can’t do this. Not now. Not—not yet.”
    The blue of her eyes was too deep to see behind.
    â€œI—when, Gwyna? What—what can I do?”
    â€œNothing. It’s not you. Please, Ardur. Please don’t be angry.”
    I took a deep breath. “I’m—why don’t you just finish that side of my chin, and I’ll take a quick plunge in the cold pool?”
    She nodded, her face white in the dim light. We didn’t say anything else, and after she was through, I waded in our private frigidarium until I was numb.
    When I came to bed, she was still awake, and she took my hand. She held it to her lips and kissed it. “It won’t be so very long. I just—I just need a little more time.”
    I held her close, and was surprised when she started to cry.

CHAPTER NINE
    Breakfast was awkward. Gwyna avoided my eyes. I got up and walked behind her chair. She craned her head to look at me.
    â€œArdur—what—”
    My hands on her shoulders silenced her. I massaged her neck and pulled her hair up. She leaned back against me, eyes closed. I kissed her neck, my lips traveling around to the front of her tunic, gently brushing her lips.
    I said in a playful tone: “Just a reminder for when you see Philo today.”
    She relaxed and smiled—a little wickedly—looking around to make sure there were no servants lurking. “Ardur—give me your hand.”
    I held it out, and while I was still standing behind her, she calmly tucked it under her tunic. The breast strap she was wearing was very thin. I completely forgot why I was standing there. I also forgot my name.
    She removed it—she had to be firm with it—and returned it to me, with another smile.
    â€œRemember that when Sulpicia tries to climb in your lap.”
    Breakfast suddenly tasted much better.
    *   *   *
    I decided not to take the litter, since walking helped me think, and I sure as hell needed some help. The weather was gray, as unsettled as my sense of purpose.
    I walked down the hill to the gemmarius. The little shop clung to the dilapidated corner as if it were out of breath and tired of running. Not the moneyed area of Aquae Sulis.
    Dirt streets, same yellow color as the baths. A fountain with a lion’s face, cracked, mended, broken nose, stood a few doors away in the center of the square, its drip unsteady. The smell of piss rose from the insulae above, carried on a breeze that would blow it into the marketplace, where it would disappear and be overwhelmed by