Page 27 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)

A elius sat in the atrium with his mother, staring dully at his untouched plate of breakfast. Crispina had left less than an hour ago. Already the house felt darker.

Gaia wasn’t eating either. A heavy silence reigned between them. Aelius detected blame and sadness in his mother’s downcast gaze and tense shoulders. He knew the loss of Crispina had hit her hard, and that she resented him for not being able to forgive.

He cut a fig into tiny slivers, the knife clicking against his plate. Once it had been thoroughly disemboweled, he cleared his throat and spoke. “I will make inquiries about a suitable property in the countryside we could let.” The prospect of living out the rest of his days in quiet, comfortable obscurity was as unappealing as the mangled fig on the plate before him.

Gaia nodded in acceptance. “If that is what you wish.”

“I thought that’s what you wished.” He couldn’t keep the sharpness from his tone.

Her gaze flicked up, anger sparking in her dark eyes. “If you cared what I wished, you would not have sent her—"

Max, who had been hiding in the kitchen since Crispina left, trudged into the atrium, shoulders bowed and face glowering.

Gaia rose to her feet. “Max! Would you like some breakfast?”

Fists clenched, Max marched straight up to Aelius and kicked him hard in the shin. Before Aelius could do more than let out a shocked yelp, Max aimed another kick at him.

“This is your fault!” Max yelled. He landed a punch to Aelius’s shoulder. “She’s gone and it’s all your fault! I hate you.”

“Stop it!” Aelius ducked as Max launched another blow. He managed to grab the boy’s arm. A brief scuffle ensued. Max was quick, vicious, and angry, but Aelius used his superior reach to grab Max by the neck of his tunic and hold him at arm’s length.

Max twisted and pummeled Aelius’s arm. “Let me go,” he snarled.

“I will when you’ve calmed yourself.”

Max glared at him, still trying to break free. Gaia watched the display with wide eyes, but did not intervene. She probably thought Aelius deserved a few more kicks.

“I can stay like this all day.” Aelius affected a cool, disinterested tone, but winced as Max landed another punch to his forearm.

Finally, Max seemed to tire himself out. His shoulders slumped, and he stopped trying to hit Aelius. Aelius released him. Max dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball, his head buried in his knees.

His narrow shoulders shook, and Aelius realized he was crying. Aelius’s heart twisted. This is your fault . He cast a helpless glance at his mother. “Can’t you do something?”

She shook her head. “This is your problem to solve.” She rose and departed the atrium, leaving Aelius alone with Max.

Aelius knew many things, but how to comfort a crying child was not one of them, especially after that child had just attacked him. “Max?”

“G-go away,” Max muttered, not raising his head.

“No.” Aelius lowered himself to the floor to sit cross-legged next to Max. “I know you miss her. The gods know I do, too. But I swear to you, you will always have a home with us.”

The weight of such a promise, made without thought or hesitation, settled over him. Just a few months ago, he hadn’t even wanted Max in his house, and now he was promising him a home in perpetuity? He hadn’t realized how deeply Max had worked his way into his heart.

Before Crispina, the only person he truly loved was his mother. It had been just the two of them for his whole life. Then Crispina came, and Max. His heart had stretched and expanded without him even recognizing it. And now, with Crispina gone, emptiness yawned inside him.

He put a hand on Max’s shoulder. Max tensed, but didn’t pull away. Aelius gently drew Max into his arms, cradling the boy against him.

Max allowed himself to be embraced, his body still shaking with sobs. His tears sliced something deep within Aelius. Despite every attempt at control, he found his throat tightening and his eyes burning. He blinked back a tear. Gods, he hadn’t cried since he was a child.

Max sniffled. “I m-miss her.”

“So do I.” Aelius’s voice came out thick and rough.

“Why did she have to leave?” Max raised his tearstained face. “Why did you make her leave?”

“I…” Aelius swallowed hard. How could he explain that Crispina had done something unforgivable? “We could not make each other happy.”

“But you were happy.” Max’s voice took on an accusatory tone.

“Yes.” Or so I thought . There was no resolution to be had with this line of questioning, so Aelius changed the subject. “After the election, we’re going to leave Rome and move to the country. Have you ever been outside Rome?”

Max shook his head grudgingly.

“There will be hills and vineyards and rivers. Fresh air, plenty of space for you to run around. You could learn to ride a horse.”

He perked up. “A horse? A big one?”

“The biggest one we can find. Would you like that?”

Max sighed. “Maybe.” His tears had stopped, but his face still looked glum.

“Good.” Aelius gently extricated Max from his lap, then rose to his feet and extended a hand to pull Max up. “Are you hungry? Perhaps we can discuss what you might name your horse over some food.” He gestured to the barely-touched breakfast still laid out.

A shadow of a smile flitted across Max’s face. Food was always a reliable enticement. He grasped Aelius’s hand, and followed him to the breakfast table.