“That is not for you to know,” Augustus said, though he himself wondered the same thing. What was Chrysate doing in her room? “You will stay in Rome. If I travel, you will travel with me. You will be my general if Agrippa will not. You said that you would defend Rome, and I hold you to your word.”

“I came here willingly,” Usem said. “Do not waste my goodwill.”

“I am the emperor,” Augustus replied, his jaw tensing. “Do not waste my time.”

“You waste your own time,” Usem said. “And there is little of it left. If we do not go out in force to fight this, it will be too late. You bought a warrior when you agreed to hire me. Let me do my work.”

He stalked from the room, and Augustus sat for a moment, uncertain, frustrated, before he rose to his feet and went in search of Chrysate. At least, she could reassure him that Cleopatra was still safe in her box.

The priestess’s room was empty, the windows open, and the bed unrumpled. Augustus felt suddenly as though he had lost months since the battle. The hearth was lit, and a large bronze cauldron was upon it. Augustus did not recall ever having seen it there before.

He took a step toward it.

The room was very still, and Augustus suddenly felt terrified. There was nothing to fear. She was not here. Then he looked down at the floor. His slippers were soaked with blood.

There was something inside the cauldron. Something large.

Something moving.

Augustus could not find his voice. He had given her Selene. What had she done?

“No,” he whispered.

With a screaming gasp, something rose from the cauldron, pale and streaming with dark water, naked, and with her hair plastered to her back.

Augustus fell backward onto the floor as Chrysate emerged from the boiling liquid, her skin clear and perfect as a statue’s, her eyes startled at his presence.

He turned and sprinted from the room, his mind spinning, his heart racing. Witchcraft. Blood. A boiled corpse, or at least, that was what he was sure he’d seen, and then —

Perfect and young, Chrysate coming out of the fire. How had he forgotten her powers? She was not human, and he’d been sharing his bed with her. He nearly convulsed with horror.

“Agrippa!” Augustus shouted, running through the corridor. “Marcus Agrippa!”

This was Agrippa’s fault. He had brought the witch to Rome, and now —

What had he seen? He didn’t know. He should never have used witches. He should never have trusted witches. He bolted theriac directly from its bottle, desperate for calm. His heart was beating too quickly, his breath coming too fast.

“What is it?” The general arrived more quickly than Augustus had expected. “I was on my way to you,” Agrippa said. “I have news of a weapon, a way to destroy Cleopatra —”

“Chrysate has done something, killed someone. I saw her, at the fire, in the fire —”