Page 80 of Cleopatra

When the room was empty of everyone but the soothsayer and my son, I turned to her.

“Tell me,” I said.

Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Your son is not marked by the gods.”

“It cannot be.”

“Search his body for yourself—there is no sigil.”

She placed Caesarion back in my arms and I searched his skin for any sign of a blemish. But as Charmion had said, he was perfect.

“What does this mean?” I whispered. Though the room was empty, I was still terrified of this reaching unfriendly ears.

The soothsayer’s brows knitted together. “Forgive me, my queen—is he truly of your blood?”

I felt a flash of rage. “He is my blood.” I tugged on the tie of my robe, letting it open so she could see the blood that soaked through between my legs.

“I do not wish to anger you, but I had to be sure.”

“Then what is it? What is wrong with him?”

She smiled gently. “I do not think anything is ever truly wrong with a babe fresh from the womb.”

I heard my voice rise in pitch, akin to the sound Qar made when he swooped on his prey. “Then why is he not marked?”

“The gods have not granted him the divinity of your forebears. Perhaps you have angered them?”

Guilt churned like bile in my stomach and I found myself spluttering. “Angered the gods? I have fought, I have bled, I have done everything I could to protect the people of Egypt.”

To my shame I began to cry, loud keening sobs that shook my body and made Caesarion scream.

“Please, take him,” I cried, and the soothsayer took him from my arms so I could collect myself.

When I could breathe steadily once more, I had already formed a plan. I would not be a victim to further conjecture about my reign, nor would I subject my son to it in the future.

My hand went to the knife at my throat and I released the dagger from the leather sheath.

“Place the babe on the bed,” I said. If the soothsayer heard any warning in my voice, she didn’t show it.

When Caesarion was safe, I lunged, panic fortifying my weakened state.

The blade was at her throat before the soothsayer realised her death was near.

“Pharaoh, I will not speak on what happened here today, on the word of my god Ptah, let it be so,” she said. Her voice shook.

So, too, did my resolve.

“You swear it?”

“I do.” Her throat bobbed beneath my blade.

“Go, then,” I said, cursing my own weakness.

When she had left the room, I picked up Caesarion and wrapped him against my chest inside my robe. I then called for the new commander of my royal guard, Seti.

“Pharaoh?” he enquired.

“Follow the soothsayer. And execute her.”