“There is nothing to fear,” she told the girl. “I will protect you.”

Something inside Selene told her to trust the woman.

Chrysate glanced at the emperor and smiled at him. A calculated smile. She watched as he smiled nervously back at her, his crooked teeth showing.

She considered the other witches. The Northerner sat beside her, clearly ill. Chrysate had heard her coughing all the way down the corridor of the Palatine, and the old woman’s skin was sallow and feverish. Nevertheless, she sat with her spine straight, her strange silver eyes watchful. She should not be hard to kill, should she become a nuisance tonight. Chrysate was prepared. The snake charmer, on the other hand, was a stronger foe. Perhaps he was on her side, however. Or could be bought. His tribe was known to practice sorcery for hire. She leaned toward the man.

“I may need you,” she said.

“As I may need you,” he replied, his jaw tight. “She will not be taken easily.”

The wind informed Usem that the queen had arrived, and though he could not see her yet, he knew that he soon would. He regretted this already. A sleek, copper-patterned viper slithered itself about the Psylli’s two arms, its body thick as a limb. He glanced over at the Northern witch. The Romans had taken her distaff from her, but he could see it now, well concealed against her side, hidden in the folds of her garments. He suspected that he was the only one who knew it was there and that he was also the only one who knew that her wrists were not actually bound. The wind had whispered all these things into his ear. He was not sorry that the seiðkona had her weapon, however. They would need whatever they had. He planned to kill Cleopatra himself. He did not trust anyone else to do it.

He touched his dagger, testing the blade with his fingertips. It was sharp enough to slice through thinnest air, he knew, having used it for that purpose once before. He’d treated it with the venom he himself was immune to. It would be sharp enough to slice through either of the witches’ flesh if necessary and kill them quickly. He was not so certain that it would kill Cleopatra. The wind wrapped around the Psylli’s shoulders like a cloak, watching and waiting.

An ostrich paraded below, its beak thrust high and prideful into the air. The Romans scarcely took notice. They’d seen ostriches before.

Augustus’s gaze fell on a large grouping of senators, their bald pates shining in the torchlight. They were accompanied by scribes. He nudged Agrippa.

“Why are they here?”

“I don’t know,” Agrippa answered.

“They’re old men,” said Augustus.

“And not armed,” said Agrippa.

Augustus looked at them again, wondering what their purpose was. Senators did not typically attend such events. They ought to be sleeping, but they were rigid with excitement. One of them glanced over as the emperor looked away.