Ancient Rome was ass at wine-making. Never in Julia's life had she ever had wine so terrible that she failed to recall a single enjoyable lick of her evening. Not only that, but the headache from the hangover was making it impossible for her to step out of her room without squinting for fear of losing her very eyeballs from the explosive pressure behind them. The mess hadn't even tasted good. Bitter and pungent, it had been nothing like the smooth, two hundred dollar bottles of wine that she was used to indulging in from time to time.
Or maybe she was the bitter one. After Augustus had announced the official wedding date at the banquet, she had guzzled down all the alcohol she could get her hands on just to get through the rest of the night. Marcellus had spent the first half of it groan
