“He wasn’t a man,” Octavian said. “He was a boy.”

“Then why did you kill him?” Alexander asked. His eyes were wide and disbelieving.

“I did not kill him. He was killed in battle. No more of that. This is war.” The boy’s eyes were leaking tears, and Octavian felt disgusted.

“We will not need to be killed in battle,” Cleopatra Selene informed him. “I will go with you to Rome. I will walk in your procession, behind her body. Is that not what you are planning? My mother’s body displayed with the asps that killed her? I will salute you as my emperor. My parents loved each other more than they loved anyone else. My mother planned to live forever with my father, but she did not plan anything for my brothers and me. They forgot about us.”

The girl’s lip wobbled slightly, the first real indication of weakness Octavian had seen. She was nearly the same age as his own daughter, Julia. A child.

“What do you know about living forever? Did she consult with a magician? A witch?” Octavian asked. He could not help himself.

“I know nothing of my mother’s whereabouts, but perhaps I know other things,” she said, giving him a steady look. “My mother did nothing to keep us safe. She left it to me. I will give you my allegiance, and I will tell you what I know, if you will protect us.”

A small movement caught Octavian’s eye, a flutter in the tapestry. His heart rattled against his ribs. He leapt from the throne and dashed across the room, sword pointed into the fabric, at the spot where he knew she would be. He stabbed through it and blunted his blade against a stone wall, seeing only a rat disappearing into a crack therein.

Octavian could barely keep from screaming. Egypt was that wall, full of cracks, and Cleopatra could be in any one of them. The queen could be on her way to Rome. He might arrive home in triumph, crowned with laurel, and find her awaiting him in his own bed, his wife and daughter murdered and their blood staining her hands.

“I will protect you,” Octavian managed, even as he wondered why he felt compelled to make promises to a child. And what did he propose to protect her from? What foes did she have? It was he who was in danger.

“Then I will kiss your hand,” she said, and a moment later, he felt her lips brush his fingertips. “It is settled. We will be Romans. You will want to find our tutor, Nicolaus the Damascene. He knows what she summoned.”

Octavian felt his heart shudder. Summoned. He’d suspected it was something like this.

“You asked if she consulted with sorcerers,” the girl said. “I do not know the answer to that. I do know she consulted with scholars, and she practiced a spell to summon a goddess to our city. It was meant to be a secret, but our tutor helped her. If you can find him, you may find her.”