"Healthy and strong and well-loved," she agrees, unable to crush swell of pleasure that rises in her when Albinius smiles, but turns face from Spartacus, pressing warm cheek to curve of Ilithyia's shoulder. He is her son, she must remind herself. No man can take such title from her.

Though she knows, at some point, she must give him up, if only for a moment. It is what she has agreed to. As if he knows, Albinius looks back to Spartacus, still smiling, then waves his hand once more, grasping at air.