Page 74 of Cleopatra

“Yes. Tomorrow, if you’ll permit me, I would like to parley with Arsinoe and Theos.”

“You expect them to surrender?”

“I hope they will.”

“You do not know Arsinoe like I do. But perhaps you can bring Theos to our side,” I said.

“I would like to try.”

It had been so long since I had seen either of my siblings. “I want to come.”

“Cleopatra, no, you must rest.”

“No,” I said. “I need to be there when this ends.”

He met my eyes and saw the determination in them. “I see I will not be able to sway you.”

I patted his cheek. “You are wise not to try.”

He brought his lips to my wrist, against the blood that flowed there. “I will not let you out of my sight. For you and the babe you carry are the very essence of me.”

The water between us swelled and splashed as I moved to press my body against his. When I touched my lips to his, all worry was lost to pleasure.

—

The wind struck my face like the flapping of a bird’s wing, stinging my cheeks. I clung on to my headdress, in the likeness of Isis’s own crown, which threatened to topple into the sea. The cow horns tapered skywards to a sharp point on the side of each ear, a gold solar disc binding them together on the top of my head.

The dress I wore was a deep purple and it was tangled in my legs. Caesar stood beside me at the bow of the boat, clad in chainmail and leather armour, his gladius sword at his waist.

“My head hurts,” said a little voice. I grimaced.

Ptolemy, the youngest of my siblings, stood behind me. He wore the crown of the two lands, an ancient headpiece representing the coming together of Upper and Lower Egypt. I had thought it best that he showcased the heritage we represented.

But it was too big for his twelve-year-old head. The white barrelled base hung low on his brow, and the red arched interior rose precariously high off his crown and had to be secured with rope to his ears.

He looks like a fool of a king.

Ahead of us were the remaining ships of the rebellion army. As we drew closer, I could make out Arsinoe and Theos standing on the balcony at the front of their fleet.

They disembarked onto a smaller vessel and Caesar, Ptolemy and I did the same. Each party brought with them four guards; the remainder of our armies were at our backs.

“Ptolemy, can you use your gift? Tell me, who will die on their boat today?” I asked my brother as we drew near.

He seemed pleased to be asked. He screwed up his little face as he scrutinised our siblings on the other vessel.

Then he said, “No one will die today.”

I sighed in relief. Though I was deeply angry at both Arsinoe and Theos, I did not want to have to give the order to kill either of them.

“If neither dies, then there is hope they may yet surrender peacefully,” Caesar said.

“I hope so.”

The sea grew fierce and I found myself knocked to the side. Caesar steadied me, his hand cradling my stomach.

That was how Arsinoe first saw us as her boat drew alongside ours—not Pharaoh and consul, but lovers, parents.

Her lips parted in shock, which was quickly smothered by a small smile. Theos stood to her right.