A young woman tumbled out, landing catlike on her hands and knees. Julius’s jaw dropped as she came to rest. A scanty patch of yellow silk covered her breasts and another wound around her waist, revealing long legs down to bare feet. Her skin was dark gold and her hair wild from her time in the carpet. Tendrils of it fell forward to cover a face flushed with heat and embarrassment. It may have been Julius’s imagination, but he thought he could hear her swearing softly under her breath.

As the Romans watched in astonishment, she put her lower lip half over the other and blew a tendril of hair out of her vision. Her gaze fixed on Julius as she arranged herself in a more dignified position and rose slowly.

“I am Cleopatra,” she said. “I would speak with you alone, Caesar.”

Julius was entranced. She had the body of a dancer, with heavy-lidded eyes and a full mouth that suggested a rare sensuality. Gold earrings gleamed and a red garnet like a drop of blood hung around her throat. She was as beautiful as he had heard.

“Leave us,” Julius said, without looking at the others.

Octavian hesitated for a moment until Julius met his eyes, then he left with Domitius and the bearded servant.

Julius crossed to a table and filled a silver cup with red wine, using the action to give him time to think. She came with him and accepted the cup in both hands.

“Why did you have yourself delivered in such a fashion?” Julius asked.

She drank deeply before replying and he wondered what it had been like to be trapped in the stifling cloth of the carpet for so long.

“If I had come openly, the courtiers would have imprisoned me. I am not welcome in Alexandria, not anymore.”

Her eyes never left his as she spoke, and Julius found her directness uncomfortable. He gestured to a bench and she followed him to it, drawing her legs up slowly under her.

“How can the queen be unwelcome?” Julius asked.

“Because I am at war, Caesar. My loyal warriors are at the borders of Syria, unable to enter Egypt. My life would have been worth nothing if I had come by day.”

“I don’t understand,” Julius said.

She leaned closer to him and he could smell a rich perfume coming from her bare skin like smoke. He found himself becoming aroused by the near-naked girl and struggled not to show it.

“My brother Ptolemy is thirteen years old,” she said. “Under Panek he has no say in the rule of my lands.”

“Your brother?” Julius said.

She nodded. “My brother and my husband, in one.” She saw his expression and laughed, a low chuckle that he enjoyed.