She unlocked an ordinary door and led them into an even narrower corridor, barely wider than Orpheus’s shoulders. Alena kept hold of his hand as she followed behind him.
“I’ve explored every one. Doors upon doors. But this one, this door revealed itself only days ago, the day I prayed for a way to avenge Mark Antony.”
The passage opened into a dark, cavernous room with rough-hewn walls where torches flickered and shadows danced. Orpheus glanced at Alena, who’d moved closer to his side. Her lips parted as she took in the massive golden carvings before them. Orpheus was just as dumbstruck. The ancient symbols meant nothing to him, but at the center of the closed doors was the unmistakable shape of a gold peacock.
“The gods have heard my prayers. The peacock, you see, is a symbol of the all-knowing Eye of Horus. He sees and he has sent me this.” She pointed to a series of inscriptions in the stone, which Orpheus couldn’t read. It wasn’t Greek or Egyptian. “This writing is in an ancient language only one of my high priests could translate. It says the grimoire is protected by a series of challenges meant to keep the unworthy from possessing it. It tells of the book’s power to heal and destroy our enemies.” Cleopatra’s fingers trailed over the symbols. “Unfortunately, none of my champions have been able to retrieve it.”
“Is the door charmed?” Alena asked.
Cleopatra laughed. “No. It will open for you. Entering is not the problem. Coming out alive is.”
Orpheus swallowed and felt Alena shiver. “Others have attempted this quest?”
Cleopatra’s kohl-rimmed eyes met his. “None have succeeded.”
“How do you expectusto survive if the door has only ever led to death?” Alena protested in a trembling voice.
The queen tilted her head. “You survived my trial, hedge witch. Use your powers. This challenge should be easy for you and the barber. Simply follow the path to its end.”
“And if we refuse?” Orpheus scowled.
“There is no way out of this room without the grimoire.” Her blood-red lips formed an exaggerated pout.
The guard drew his sword. Orpheus could try magic, but he was sure there would be more guards. They were outnumbered here.
He glanced again toward Alena, whose expression bordered on panic. “I don’t suppose we have an option.”
Cleopatra gave him a patronizing look. “No.”
“The golden door or certain death,” Alena murmured.
“Every day without the weapon is a day we risk defeat against Octavian’s legions. Take heart, barber. The gods brought us this door. If your hearts are pure, surely the gods will come to your aid.”
“My heart hasn’t been pure since before the pyramids, my queen,” he said sarcastically.
Cleopatra raised her chin. “Then you’d better hope hers is, for both your sakes. Now, I tire of your insolence.” She gestured toward the door.
Orpheus focused on Alena. She was trembling. How he hated this, hated Cleopatra with every fiber of his being.
He offered Alena his hand. “How hard can it be? All we have to do is survive.”
