The emperor watched his general depart, feeling the panic rising up again. He certainly could not leave his savior bound. He walked across the room, knelt before Chrysate, and untied her wrists.

The girl was motionless, her skin glowing from within, her eyes greener than ever. Despite his vow to the contrary, Augustus felt himself desiring her again. She was ruthless. To keep her in his employ would bring him power. What might she do in a city built over the bones of so many dead? There were heroes buried in Rome, warriors of legendary prowess. And why stop with Rome? He might take Chrysate to the battlefields of Troy. He imagined it for a moment, himself commanding an army of the glorious dead. What need would he have for Marcus Agrippa, when he had Achilles?

“What have you done with Antony?” he asked.

“He sleeps inside this box,” she said. “And his wife sleeps beside him as long as I hold the stone that keeps him from descending to Hades. They are mine.”

Chrysate could see by the way the emperor’s pulse throbbed against the thin skin of his temple that he was thrilled by her as much as he feared her.

She held in her hands the box that contained the end of the world. The monster within would be like a drop of aconite in a cistern, spreading through a city’s water and killing all who drank. Chrysate could feel Hecate’s strength growing. She’d be satisfied with this, and the goddess long ago sent to the Underworld would rise, feeding off Cleopatra and Sekhmet.

Hecate would rise.

For that, though, for the summoning spell, Chrysate needed Selene. Chrysate’s powers were dwindling even as she sat here in the emperor’s rooms. Despite the love spell she’d worked, the spell that should have made the girl her slave, Selene had run from her in the Circus Maximus, terrified, and who knew where she was now?

Chrysate smiled. At least Selene was not a stupid child. This was good. Intelligent children were more valuable.

She ran her fingers over Augustus’s cheek. He startled at her touch, but she saw his color change, his eyes dilate.

“I saved you,” she told him. “Without me, your enemy would have escaped. Without me, you would be dead. I want the Egyptian girl. Cleopatra’s daughter.”

She licked her lips, moistening them.

Augustus looked at her, bleary, his brow furrowing.

“Selene?” he asked.

Chrysate placed the sealed silver box carefully on the table and untied the sash of her robe. She heard the sharp intake of Augustus’s breath. She wore nothing beneath, and the spell she’d worked had made her body into one that could easily make a thousand ships refuse to leave port. She was well aware of the emperor’s weaknesses.

“Give her to me,” Chrysate whispered, leaning over Augustus, pressing him back onto the floor, letting him feel her softness, letting his hands linger on her skin. “Give her to me, and you will have everything you could desire.”