Page 108 of Cleopatra

I rose and padded through my room, wrapping a robe around me. The moon hung a half-smile in the sky and the air was cool for the time of year.

I slipped through the palace like a shadow, clinging to the walls; not to disguise myself, for I rarely hid any more, but to remain undisturbed. Despite the late hour, servants moved in and out of the many rooms, cleaning and preparing the palace for the following day.

The wind cooled the sweat on my body as I made my way through the gardens. The jasmine was in full bloom, its sweetness coating my tongue as I walked towards the temple district.

My temple to Isis had been completed two years prior. A task that should have taken a season to complete had taken six times that. The construction bore the signs of Egypt’s troubles.

We had run out of red granite during the siege and so parts of the columns were made from limestone. The pool that I had wanted to fill with floating flowers was dry, the tunnel connecting it to the cistern incomplete. The specialist builder had died during the harbour fire, and I had not found a replacement with sufficient skills to finish it.

Though the temple had flaws, I still found peace within its walls.

I lowered myself in front of the altar and bowed my head.

Over the years I had come to terms with my lack of divine power. But I still never lost faith in my god. I was marked by Isis, and so I was hers completely.

“Isis, I come asking for your help. Please send your husband, Osiris, to watch over Caesar in the afterlife.”

Osiris, in his power, was Lord of Death and king of the realm beyond. Like Isis, he had many faces, with some preferring to call him Dionysus.

I was reminded of Antonius then, and our first meeting—a meeting of gods.

Did he lead the triumphs in Rome? Or did Caesar’s false heir head the procession?

My heart was not yet his, so I did not yearn for him. Time had healed some of the hurt I had felt when he’d allied with Octavian, allowing me to think of him fondly—a connection to the love I had lost in Caesar.

I remained kneeling before the altar until dawn. When I stood, I felt lighter knowing Caesar’s soul was protected by my prayers.

I walked to the harbour, enjoying the mild heat of the morning sun, and looked across the bay.

Theos, do you live beneath the waves still? Are you comforted to know our sister still fights your cause?

An approaching vessel interrupted my reverie. It was smaller than the many warships that had come and gone. I recognised the boat as the type used by Rome to ferry messages and supplies.

It sailed into the palace harbour and I waited patiently as my guards approached the captain, verifying its purpose before allowing the messenger to disembark.

Instead of waiting for the details to filter through the scribes, to Faunus, then to me, I approached the messenger myself.

“Word from Rome?” I asked after the emissary bowed.

“My name is Dellius, Pharaoh. I come on behalf of Marcus Antonius. He requests your presence.”

“Indeed?” I said, making sure my tone implied bemusement. “And his reason?”

The ambassador looked bewildered by my irreverence. “All those who supported Caesar’s assassins are being brought forward for questioning.”

I cocked my head. “And how did I support my husband’s killers?”

He smirked, and I found that I did not like this Dellius. He wore his arrogance like a fine cloak. “Serapion,” he said.

“His betrayal was his own. And my sister’s, that I will concede. But I did not think Romans held one accountable for the crimes of a sibling.”

Dellius slowly shook his head. “It is not for me to speak on. I only come as the voice of Marcus Antonius.”

“You have no voice of your own?” I said.

“If I did, I would be sure to blunt it, for my words would be too sharp for your ears.” Dellius spoke sweetly, despite his graceless insult.

“Choice words,” I scoffed. “Either you lay bare your contempt, or you claim I am too weak to hear it. This is the man Marcus sends to me?”