Page 50 of Cleopatra

“Your father intended for both you and your brother to reign.”

“He did, but it is clear Theos has been turned against me. My father would not deny me in this matter.”

“Your father was a great friend to me. I was sad to hear of his passing.”

“What we have lost, the realm beyond has gained,” I said.

“During his visits to Rome, he spoke of you often.”

“He did?” I tried not to show how desperately I longed to hear my father’s words.

“He did.”

“I pray you, tell me some of what he said.”

“That you were astute and scrupulous. That you would rule Egypt like a mother asp.”

Snakes were sacred things to us. Fierce protectors of their young, they were revered as powerful mothers. I treasured the compliment.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“My father’s words are a welcome gift.”

He reached across me to pour himself more wine, and I smelled the myrrh on his clothing. “Then you are in my debt?”

“You suggest a gift incurs a debt? Your wife must be very poor,” I remarked.

Another laugh. I longed to hear more.

“Not a debt, then, but a moment of your time—since I have been told you are astute and scrupulous—to consider a proposition.”

I dipped my head in acquiescence.

Caesar looked down to the gardens below, where the moon lined the trees in silver light. A whole day had passed since my escape from the royal barge. But I was not weary. Talking with Caesar invigorated me in a way I would never come to experience again. He was thoughtful and assertive, an exhilarating combination.

Despite what you’ve been told, it wasn’t love that blossomed so readily between us that night, but friendship. And perhaps a little lust too.

He turned to face me once more. “Allow me to facilitate a reconciliation between you and your brother. In honour of your father.”

I set my jaw. I had not considered peace between Theos and myself; my mind had gone only to war. As I said before, I was naive. It took me many years to appreciate the power of compromise over violence.

“No.”

Caesar’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. I doubted he heard that word often. “You ask me to uphold your father’s will, yet you would deny your brother the same rights.”

“My brother wishes to try me for crimes against the gods. He deceives the nation, assigning misfortune as my misdeeds.”

“He does, but like you, he is a Ptolemy; Egypt is him. I hear that his god power is one to be envied—breathing water like air. What is your god-granted gift, Cleopatra?”

I searched his face for any trace of mockery, but the question seemed sincere. “The goddess Isis has blessed me with an aptitude for healing.”

“Healing? And yet you refuse to heal this rift between you and your brother.”

I met his dancing eyes steadily. “What is it you gain from this union, that you encourage it so, Julius?” I spoke his given name back to him, as he had said mine, but with a hint more mockery.

“You are perceptive.”