Queen of Kings - Maria Dahvana Headley [105]
The words, though spoken quietly, were a curse. Agrippa’s center twisted. He felt like screaming.
“Do you fear the dark, Marcus Agrippa?” the girl asked. “Do you fear my mistress? Do you fear Cleopatra? Then you should leave us. I, and my kind, kept the emperor of Rome safe tonight. You and all your men failed.”
Agrippa felt himself sagging, her words piercing him. She was not wrong.
“What is the matter with you?” Augustus asked, looking sharply at him.
Agrippa would not fail again. He must protect his emperor, even if it meant protecting him from things Augustus himself had invited in.
He knew this witch before him would not go easily back to her cave in Thessaly now that she’d tasted power. And the queen of Egypt would certainly not stay imprisoned in that box, not if she could survive fire, not if she could transform at will. If the priestess found a way to control her, Agrippa did not want to imagine what would happen. Together, Cleopatra and Chrysate would be even more formidable than each was alone.
“Do not trust her,” he managed, and then he saluted Augustus, mastered his fears for his friend, and left the room.
His task was set. He must find a new weapon, one that could destroy the indestructible. And he must act outside his orders. Agrippa had always believed in his friend, had served at his side for most of his life, but now, Augustus was wrong. The consequences of his error would be severe. If Augustus trusted Chrysate, what else would he trust? What other foolish decisions might he make?
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