She thought of the taste of tears.

She stepped over the sill, her feet silent. She dropped to the floor, her body shifting as she moved toward Augustus.

She could hear the legionaries coming up the hillside, resolved to tell Marcus Agrippa what they had seen. She could hear them pounding on his door. They had no idea where she was.

She undulated across the silken carpet, the sound of her passage a mere whisper. She fit her pointed jaw beneath the counterpane and slithered, cool and slender, into the emperor’s bed. He stirred, murmuring as her body slipped over his ankle, over his wrist, over his chest.

She swayed above his face, looking at him through a serpent’s gaze, her spine arching as she drew back to strike. His eyelids fluttered. Yes. She wanted him awake.

Feed.

A sound from the hallway startled her, and she turned to see her daughter in the open doorway, her steps as slow and light as a sleepwalker’s, her hands filled with a bouquet of what first seemed to be flowers and then seemed to be birds. A strange fragrance followed the girl, something dark and ashen.

Selene turned to look into the room, her eyes dazed, and Cleopatra felt herself falter.

Her daughter took a step forward, blinking into the shadows at the serpent that coiled atop the emperor’s chest.

Selene’s eyes widened. She dropped the bouquet, and the songbirds scattered to the ceiling.

The girl screamed, her piercing voice tearing through the Palatine.

Cleopatra tore herself from the emperor’s bed, disobeying Sekhmet’s hunger.

She was gone before Augustus’s eyes were fully open.

13

Agrippa spun and raced from his quarters at the sound of the screams, certain that it must be the Greek witch in Augustus’s room. He knew he should not have left him alone with her the night before. The emperor was a fool when it came to women. But why was she screaming?

The general sprinted down the hallway and into the room, his sword drawn, only to stumble over Selene crumpled on the floor. Augustus was still in bed, staring out the unshuttered window, tightly wrapped in his coverlet and shivering. He remained there even as Agrippa shouted his name. No one else was visible.

The Psylli was close on Agrippa’s heels, and when he saw that there was no enemy in the room, he fell to his knees beside the girl, checking her heartbeat.

“What is it?” Agrippa shouted, spinning in search of the villain. Selene took a gasping breath. The emperor said nothing, and Agrippa turned his attention to her. “What did you see?”

The little girl shook her head weakly. Her skin was too pale, and her eyes were oddly dilated.

“A snake,” Selene said, her voice quivering.

“A snake,” Augustus whispered, and Agrippa tore the coverlet from his bed. There was nothing there.

Agrippa took a threatening step toward the Psylli.

“Have you let a serpent loose in the emperor’s house?”

“Not one of mine,” Usem said. “They are all accounted for, safe in my chamber. I told you. You do not know what it is you fight.”