Page 71 of Cleopatra

“Then he lives.”

“Pharaoh.” Faunus’s voice cracked. The old man had been brought in by Caesar to help manage the affairs once assigned to Pothinus. He had proved an invaluable advisor and become a trusted confidant in court. “It is unlikely he will have survived.”

I held out my hand. “Charmion.” She was there to help me stand.

My legs did not shake, though I felt as if every step I took, the world around me spun.

I cradled my stomach. “My child will come to know their father,” I vowed. “Send out a search party to circle the harbour.”

“I have,” he said weakly. “I return now from their counsel. There is no sight nor sign of Caesar.”

I shook my head, my hand tightening across my belly. “No. I do not believe it.”

I was still walking, but I wasn’t sure where.

Faunus called after me. “We need to send missives to Rome…”

I ignored him, my footsteps taking me out of the throne room, out of the palace altogether.

I didn’t cry—it wasn’t shock, I just truly did not believe Caesar to be dead. He could not leave this life before meeting his child. Our child.

The sun was setting across the horizon, its rays seeping like honey into the ocean waves. I could see the navy out in the distance. Our fleet had grown considerably, outnumbering Arsinoe and Theos’s army.

“We are so close,” I whispered to the sea. “We are so close to the end.”

The baby in my belly twisted, pushing bile up my throat. I coughed against the burning pain of it while also relishing the feeling of the babe’s strength.

“Your father will be here soon,” I said.

Though Isis had yet to bestow power on me, in moments like these I was comforted that she watched over me.

I stayed there all evening, watching ship after ship leave and return without Caesar on board.

“Come back to the palace,” Charmion said.

The sea lapped at my toes but I had stopped feeling them half a day ago. “No.”

“You must at least sit, this is not good for the baby.”

I let Charmion call for a chair. It was my throne they brought, its gilded seat cool and familiar.

And that is where I sat, on the edge of the shoreline, a queen looking for her king.

Charmion had brought me food at sunset but I couldn’t eat.

“You must not forget the babe—they need sustenance.”

“I could not forget my child,” I snapped back. “Do you think there is a moment that I am unaware of their presence? Their weight presses upon me. Their legs thrust against my spine. Even now, in this stillness, I feel them urging my skin to pull apart.”

Charmion flinched. It was so rare that I turned my ire on her. But I was avoiding the feelings that crept in like the tide. It was easier to be angry than sad. “I did not mean to presume—”

“You did exactly that, you presumed. I would like to remind you that you do not know all my thoughts and feelings.” My temper should have subdued her. But Charmion was not like anyone else.

She stood in front of me, filling my vision. Few would risk the wrath of a pharaoh. As I have told you before, I did not hesitate to wield my executioner’s blade. And certainly, my ancestors’ hands were rarely clean of blood.

“Move out of the way,” I said.

“No.”