For the third night in a row Lucilla heard the door to her husband's room open. She listened with eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling as his footsteps passed by her chamber, pausing for only a moment, before continuing on down the hall towards the servants' quarters. She had grown accustomed to this in the four years of being married to Septimus. The humiliation and anger that had once burned through her veins now only flared weakly as she fidgeted beneath the sheets, forcing her eyes to close.
This is just the how it is to be a senator's wife. You know this by now.
She often wondered how different her life would have been if she had not accepted his proposal. Would she have married a soldier instead? A farmer? Lucilla did not know. All she knew was that she was twenty-six years of age and her husband, who was over twice that, spent his days either arguing politics in the senate or sleeping in the beds of slave girls.
It was nights like these that Lucilla often allowe