young nymph forever? Even Apollo was seduced by the virgin huntress Cyrene. Am I to be stronger than a god?”
I was struck with horror at his words. Apollo was the emperor’s patron god, and like me, Cyrene had once been Queen of Cyrenaica. The kingdom was given to her by Apollo after he raped and impregnated her. That Augustus should mention this story told me that maybe he wouldn’t have done it if Livia hadn’t slipped something into his drink, but he’d been toying with the idea of forcing himself upon me for quite some time. Livia had only made it easier for him to have what he wanted. She’d only given him an excuse to do to me what he’d done to so many other girls. Only this time, it was no slave he’d taken. “You needn’t worry about my condemnation,” I said as the small wounds closed, flesh knitting over flesh. “ Isis condemns you.”
The whites of his eyes widened with defiance. “Well, I’ve challenged Egyptian gods before and won. I’ll put my faith in Roman gods, who are stronger.”
“And which Roman god countenances the violation of another man’s wife?”
He shook me by the arms. “Don’t you know that you’re mine to do with as I please? When I captured you in Egypt, I could’ve made a slave of you. I could’ve forced you into a brothel. Instead, I gave you a throne. I’m sending you to Africa with income from mines and deeds to plantations, with chests of gold and silver bars, with treasure enough to humble the proudest royalty in Asia, so don’t cry to me about your spoiled virtue. I’ve taken from you no more than I’ve fairly purchased.”
His words demeaned me, made me feel filthy, just as he’d intended them to, and I pressed my hands on his chest to push him away. He released me, staring down at the bloody handprints I’d left on the stark white folds of his toga. What guilt and remorse he was capable of feeling now welled up in his eyes. “I won’t see you again,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tomorrow, you and Juba will go to Africa without me. You’ll find a way to forget this. I vow by Apollo that I’ll never set foot in Mauretania.”
Good , I thought, because I never wanted to see him again. I never wanted to smell him, or hear his voice, or have him breathe the air of any land I ruled. An ocean between us wouldn’t be far enough, but he was Augustus. He was Caesar. He still held in his hands everything I ever wanted and the lives of everyone I loved. “But what of our bargain?”
“This changes nothing, Selene. I’ll spare your brothers if you remain a loyal queen. But this will be the end of it.”
“No,” I said, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Now there will never be an end of it between us.”
STUMBLING out of his rooms, my arms covered in blood, half delirious with both the joy of my goddess championing me and the unbearable pain of her leaving again, I was certain that I’d spoken truly. He wouldn’t be rid of me with a royal dowry and a promise to stay away. I was a Ptolemy, the kin of Alexander. He thought that like a length of cloth dipped in royal purple dye, he could stain himself with the glory of my maiden’s blood. But I hoped my blood would be a toxin to him. A slow poison that would eat at him for all our days.
“Gods be good!” one of Maecenas’s slaves cried. “Where are you hurt, my lady? Have you been stabbed?”
“Hush!” Chryssa said, rushing to my side, breathless as if she’d been searching the villa for me. “Isis has been here. Now the heka sickness remains. We need to get her to her chambers before she falls.”
I let them put me to bed, drifting asleep to a familiar song. The melody was so far away that I couldn’t make out the words, but it was a man who sang to me, his voice like the rushing of water, strangely alluring over the notes of a plucked harp. He sang like a lover whose hands wouldn’t hurt me but would coax warmth from my skin. Of other, sweeter sensations that would make my heart
I was struck with horror at his words. Apollo was the emperor’s patron god, and like me, Cyrene had once been Queen of Cyrenaica. The kingdom was given to her by Apollo after he raped and impregnated her. That Augustus should mention this story told me that maybe he wouldn’t have done it if Livia hadn’t slipped something into his drink, but he’d been toying with the idea of forcing himself upon me for quite some time. Livia had only made it easier for him to have what he wanted. She’d only given him an excuse to do to me what he’d done to so many other girls. Only this time, it was no slave he’d taken. “You needn’t worry about my condemnation,” I said as the small wounds closed, flesh knitting over flesh. “ Isis condemns you.”
The whites of his eyes widened with defiance. “Well, I’ve challenged Egyptian gods before and won. I’ll put my faith in Roman gods, who are stronger.”
“And which Roman god countenances the violation of another man’s wife?”
He shook me by the arms. “Don’t you know that you’re mine to do with as I please? When I captured you in Egypt, I could’ve made a slave of you. I could’ve forced you into a brothel. Instead, I gave you a throne. I’m sending you to Africa with income from mines and deeds to plantations, with chests of gold and silver bars, with treasure enough to humble the proudest royalty in Asia, so don’t cry to me about your spoiled virtue. I’ve taken from you no more than I’ve fairly purchased.”
His words demeaned me, made me feel filthy, just as he’d intended them to, and I pressed my hands on his chest to push him away. He released me, staring down at the bloody handprints I’d left on the stark white folds of his toga. What guilt and remorse he was capable of feeling now welled up in his eyes. “I won’t see you again,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tomorrow, you and Juba will go to Africa without me. You’ll find a way to forget this. I vow by Apollo that I’ll never set foot in Mauretania.”
Good , I thought, because I never wanted to see him again. I never wanted to smell him, or hear his voice, or have him breathe the air of any land I ruled. An ocean between us wouldn’t be far enough, but he was Augustus. He was Caesar. He still held in his hands everything I ever wanted and the lives of everyone I loved. “But what of our bargain?”
“This changes nothing, Selene. I’ll spare your brothers if you remain a loyal queen. But this will be the end of it.”
“No,” I said, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Now there will never be an end of it between us.”
STUMBLING out of his rooms, my arms covered in blood, half delirious with both the joy of my goddess championing me and the unbearable pain of her leaving again, I was certain that I’d spoken truly. He wouldn’t be rid of me with a royal dowry and a promise to stay away. I was a Ptolemy, the kin of Alexander. He thought that like a length of cloth dipped in royal purple dye, he could stain himself with the glory of my maiden’s blood. But I hoped my blood would be a toxin to him. A slow poison that would eat at him for all our days.
“Gods be good!” one of Maecenas’s slaves cried. “Where are you hurt, my lady? Have you been stabbed?”
“Hush!” Chryssa said, rushing to my side, breathless as if she’d been searching the villa for me. “Isis has been here. Now the heka sickness remains. We need to get her to her chambers before she falls.”
I let them put me to bed, drifting asleep to a familiar song. The melody was so far away that I couldn’t make out the words, but it was a man who sang to me, his voice like the rushing of water, strangely alluring over the notes of a plucked harp. He sang like a lover whose hands wouldn’t hurt me but would coax warmth from my skin. Of other, sweeter sensations that would make my heart
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