Page 91 of Cleopatra

I imagined her in the pious clothing of a priestess. “Yes, she will.”

“But it is good that she lives?” Charmion said the statement as a question.

“I-I…” There had been a time when words stuttered from me in times of stress. Though the years had healed this malady, it came back to me now.

I didn’t know what to say. My feelings were not clear to me.

Know this about me: control was something I had fought to regain so many times, and would come to fight for time and time again. My own mind was so frequently tempestuous that I sought to calm the storm around me.

Arsinoe’s reappearance had shaken me more than Caesar could have understood. He thought he had handed me a gift, but instead it was a burden.

“Do you remember when she followed us to the river?” Charmion said, her expression becoming wistful. For Arsinoe had been like a sister to her, too.

I did. “She jumped in without a care, even though she couldn’t swim. Sank like a stone.”

“When I pulled her up, she was laughing as she choked.”

I recalled Arsinoe’s cackle as the water ran from her nose. She’d only been six years old. “My sister has never respected death.”

“No.”

A soldier lifted up the flag of Caesar’s legion and Caesar raised his cup as the eagle insignia swayed in the breeze. The crowds cheered.

Caesar sat at the far end of the table, his head framed from where I sat by the antlers of the whole roasted deer that separated us. The Roman nobles fawned around him, something he would once have despised. But now he seemed content to bask in their adoration.

Caesarion slid down in the chair beside me and I reached to catch him before his head struck the table. His eyes were half closed even as I clutched him to my chest.

“Shall I take Caesarion back to Caesar’s home?” Charmion asked.

“I can send one of the nursemaids back with him, you need not go.”

“It is no bother. I would prefer to return myself.”

Charmion’s hair fell over her face as she looked down. “What is it?” I asked.

Worry jaded her gaze. “I do not know. I cannot explain it, but there is something about this night that feels…wrong.”

Once again, Charmion proved to be astute at noticing the ripples of the world’s waters. Though Caesar’s fall had barely begun, she sensed it.

I laughed her worry away with a kiss to her cheek. “Indulge yourself tonight—take pleasure in one of the night attendants Caesar has assigned to my rooms. Helvia was very comely.”

She shook her head and took Caesarion from my arms. “Sleep calls to me.”

“Go, then. I won’t be long. I am fatigued myself but Caesar has promised me another gift. So, I must extend my patience.”

“I know that is hard for you,” she teased before leaving.

Charmion had proved to be my gatekeeper, because as soon as she left, I drew in the curiosity of Rome’s elite with a steady stream of visitors. A particularly odious man called Cicero sought to lecture me on the details of Homer’s Iliad—which I could recite in its entirety.

As the night drew on, as Charmion had predicted, I grew impatient with Caesar and my long-awaited surprise. I found myself indulging in the Roman wine. It was stronger than I was used to, and soon enough I felt as if the room was swaying.

“My queen? Are you quite well?” I still can’t recollect the name or the face of the woman I was speaking to and for a moment I saw Arsinoe.

My heart stuttered painfully in my chest before I realised the illusion.

“I am quite well,” I declared. “But you must excuse me.”

I stumbled out of the great hall and into the courtyard.