Page 135 of Cleopatra

“Perhaps she is not a healer, but a prostitute.”

The insult glanced off me, as it followed on the heels of the hakawati’s attack.

“Might I suggest you check with him?” I said dryly in Arabic. The guards jumped at the fluidity of my tongue, but smoothed over their embarrassment quickly and sent a messenger to Antonius.

As I predicted, I was welcomed into the palace shortly afterwards. I was led into an antechamber at the back of the building where a fire burned low in a copper basin. I stood by it, wrapping my arms around myself to bring comfort to my beating heart.

“Is it you?” I heard.

I closed my eyes to brace myself for the sight.

“Open your eyes and tell me you are not an apparition,” he said desperately. Rough hands moved to my cheeks and I opened my eyes.

The years had not changed him. I had hoped to see a difference so I could separate the man I had loved from who he was now. But save for a few streaks of silver in his hair, he was one and the same.

“Marcus,” I breathed.

“You are truly here.” His hands slipped to my waist and drew me towards him.

I tried to resist him, but in the time it took for me to sigh out a breath, I found myself leaning into his arms. My body’s longing for his touch overcame my sense of reason. He began to kiss me, first my eyes, then my mouth. His lips trailed down my body, savouring every bit of skin that he could.

“Marcus.” I hoped that saying his name would ground me. “Marcus, stop.”

He straightened, not because he heard me but because a thought had occurred to him. “The children, did you bring them?”

I nodded wordlessly.

He grabbed my hand as if to lead me to the harbour. “Let us go and see them.”

“They’re asleep.” It was only then that he seemed to notice my grave demeanour.

“What is wrong?”

“This is the last time I will come to you.”

He cocked his head. “You know I could not come to Egypt, my armies were here—”

“Nor will you be welcome in Egypt. Not as an ally, nor my lover.”

He took a step back. “And as a husband?”

I looked into his eyes, willing myself to speak through the pain. “Is it even a marriage if no one knows we were wed?”

“The gods know it,” he said hoarsely.

“It will be easy for you,” I told him. “Your marriage to Octavia will never be questioned. You don’t even need to meet the children; let them not know you rather than be parted from you.”

With every word Antonius took a small step back, as if each one pierced him with an arrow. “Why are you saying this, Cleopatra?”

“Octavia—”

“You were the one who told me to marry her.” His voice shook. “You were the one who sent me away.”

“To stop a war!” I shouted.

“I would have fought him for you!” he shouted back. “I would have done anything for you. Tell me what you want and I will do it.”

When I didn’t reply straight away, he said, “Do you want me to tell the world we are married? For I will do it, I have no shame in it. You were my wife ere Octavia was.”