Page 51 of Cleopatra

I raised an eyebrow. “You thought less of me?”

His gaze ran across the bare skin of my shoulder where I had let the robe slip. “I must beg your forgiveness, my queen, but I had not thought of you much at all.”

“I will forgive you that transgression, as long as it is rectified going forward.”

His eyes lingered on my lips. “Consider it rectified.”

“So? What is it you want from me?”

“The war with Pompey has depleted my treasury.”

“You want money.” Egypt had long been valued for its riches alone, and I was tired of being courted for my coffers. In this regard Caesar disappointed me, and I assumed him to be like all the other generals and kings. I soon learned that Caesar was like no other man.

“Your father was extended credit in Rome. The debts must be repaid.”

“Those donations were to support my father’s claim to the throne during the civil unrest caused by Berenice. I see that your statement holds true—a gift is a debt.”

“Yes, it would seem so.”

I had money. In the last few years of my father’s reign, he had excavated ancient tombs to claim the treasure inside. It funded his opulent lifestyle and filled my treasury.

I levelled my gaze at him. “So, my throne in order to secure yours?”

He inclined his head.

But I remained unconvinced by his sincerity. “You could make this very deal with my brother—why support me?”

Caesar moved past me and returned to the open chest. He lifted out a box from the far end of it. It was intricately crafted, decorated with a carving of the god Sobek—a gift from my brother, then.

He handed it to me and I slid open the lid. Inside, cradled on a bed of salt, was Pompey’s embalmed head.

It took all my will not to throw the box from my hands.

I had laid my head to rest on the empty eyes of Caesar’s enemy.

“Your brother gifted this to me on my arrival in Alexandria.” Caesar shook his head. “My son-in-law degraded to such a petty trophy.”

I had forgotten Pompey’s relation to Caesar.

“He was my last connection to my Julia.”

“Your daughter?” I said, closing the lid with haste. I set Pompey’s head gingerly on the floor between us.

Caesar cleared his throat as if to alleviate the thickness of grief. “Yes. She died in childbirth.”

“But Pompey was also your enemy, was he not?”

“He was, but I do not believe that death should be celebrated, gilded and gifted. Would you have presented this prize so callously?”

I thought what I would have done if I had been there. “I would have sent his body to his family for funeral rites. It is not for us to deny a soul the chance to transition to the next realm. Let the gods judge our enemies.”

Caesar watched me shrewdly. “I agree.”

I shifted under the intensity of his gaze.

“Are you willing to share Egypt with your brother once more?” Caesar asked.

“We never shared it, not truly.”