Page 39 of Cleopatra

“You smell of palm wine,” I said, letting my disapproval show in my voice.

“I do, as I had very many glasses of it.” To her credit she did not slur, though she swayed a little more than the movement of the boat accounted for.

“I hope you acted properly.”

My sister snorted as she reached forward to pick at the bread from my plate. “The people were just glad to have someone of Ptolemy blood there.”

I shot her a stern look. “Drink has made your tongue loose, sister.”

“If only it loosened yours, too. Do you know what they said about you, when they thought I couldn’t hear?”

I shook my head, not wanting to know, but listening intently anyway.

“They think you fragile. Too fragile to stay up the whole night through.”

“My night was not wasted on the frivolities of opulence,” I snapped. “I came back to my quarters to study.”

“Ah, yes. Your divine power is healing, of course.”

I darted my eyes around the room, taking in the faces of the guards who listened.

“Arsinoe,” I said in a warning tone.

She sank into a chair and trailed her finger along the embroidery of the tablecloth. “I wonder how the people would feel if they knew how righteously you studied for the divinity bestowed upon you.”

I slammed my hand down on the table.

“Stop.”

Arsinoe was startled for less than a breath before a smile painted her expression once more. “So, there is a fire in you, sister. I was beginning to wonder.”

Fury pulled me to my feet. “Fire? I am the furnace of the Lighthouse of Pharos. I shine, I lead, I burn. For I am the Pharaoh of Egypt, and I will not tolerate being spoken to this way.”

Arsinoe looked at me. “Do you remember Mother?” she asked suddenly. The question took me unawares and I sat heavily back in my seat.

“Of course I remember her.”

“Oh,” Arsinoe said, her eyes suddenly filled with sadness. “Another thing you have that I do not.”

“What is it you want, Arsinoe?”

The question disarmed her and her expression went slack. When she seemed to come to, she met my gaze. “I want to be seen.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I didn’t have to worry, as Arsinoe got up and left, leaving the scent of palm wine in her wake.

—

The journey back to Alexandria was less joyous than the outbound voyage, and things remained strained between Arsinoe and me.

The cities that had welcomed us on the journey upriver were less spirited than they had been, and the local governors rarely accepted my invitations for dinner, feigning illness or using other excuses. Most nights were spent dining alone with my sister.

“The rumours that started in Alexandria have now run the length of the Nile,” Charmion said softly in my ear. I had sent her into Memphis to listen to what the locals were saying.

I broke off a morsel of the steamed fish in front of me. Without turning around, I said quietly, “Tell me, what exactly is being said?”

Charmion inhaled sharply, and I knew it hurt her to repeat it. “That your reign is blighted by the gods. That you do not have any divine gifts and therefore are unfit to rule Egypt.”

Arsinoe sat on the other side of the table, but she was engaged in conversation with Serapion, the only courtier who had accepted my summons in Memphis. He was the son of the governor.