Queen of Kings - Maria Dahvana Headley [75]
I am not strong enough to protect you, the wind whispered.
Usem hesitated. The wind had never said such a thing before, and he took it seriously. A failed attempt would mean disaster. He would wait until he had more power at his disposal, then, even if it meant trusting in Rome a little longer. He need not fight her alone. There would be legions of soldiers, and the two other sorcerers as well, though Usem was not convinced of their intentions.
He wavered at the doorway, considering again. His dagger had slain many foes in the past. He had done the impossible and survived it, over and over again, though he wished he had his own men behind him, following his commands.
You will not kill her, the wind insisted. You can only die.
A thought occurred to him.
“Where are her children?” he asked the wind.
With the emperor, she answered.
“And her husband?”
The emperor has him, too. The scorn in the wind’s voice manifested as small whirlwinds. Ghosts were creatures of breath and spirit, like the wind itself. Usem could tell that the wind wished to set the shade free.
“That is not our place,” Usem told the wind.
He thought of the legions of soldiers who marched on behalf of the emperor. If he failed here, if he died here, it would be all too easy for them to march upon his people.
For a moment, he wondered if it would be better to let Cleopatra destroy the Romans. With the threat of Rome removed, the world would function as it once had.
Still, the queen had been a conqueror herself. His people had lived beside hers, but Egypt had not always been an easy neighbor. Once she had Rome, she would want more of the world. Once she had that, she would want everything.
At least the emperor was mortal, and he had sworn to the bargain. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to barter for independence. Usem could not let it go. He turned back to the Palatine, his cloak whipped about by the wind.
You must not trust him, the wind insisted. He lies.
“Then I will lie, too,” he finally said as he entered the house and made his way down the corridor to his room.
The wind left him then and made its way through the residence, slipping beneath doors and through windows, listening to conversations, exploring hearts.
Selene tiptoed into the hallway, her eyes alert, her nightdress barely rumpled. She’d been awake for some time, plagued by bad dreams. Her parents had appeared to her in a nightmare and then abandoned her to a mob of Alexandrians, all of them waiting to tear her apart.
She heard noise from down the hall, and paused. She was surely not supposed to be roaming the emperor’s house. In Alexandria, a nursemaid would have followed her. In Julia’s room, there were two women stationed to tend to the girl’s every need. Here, no longer the daughter of a queen, Selene had strange freedom. She pressed her back against the wall, breathing shallowly, but it was too late.
At the end of the passage, a door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped out, smiling.
“I thought everyone was sleeping,” she said. “Everyone but you and I, it seems.”
The girl hesitated, on the verge of running back to her bedchamber.
“There is nothing to fear. I am a guest here, too. You are daughter to Cleopatra, named after her, are you not?” the woman asked.
“No. My name is Selene, and I am a Roman now,” Selene said, stumbling slightly over the words. “My parents are dead. I am no longer anyone’s daughter.”
“You cannot change your parentage so easily,” the woman said, smiling. “Your blood is royal. There is no need to apologize for that. It is a precious thing, not a shameful one. You are a precious thing, though they may treat you like a prisoner.”
“They don’t treat me like a prisoner,” the girl protested. “No one watches me at all. I can do as I please here.”
Chrysate stepped into the hallway. It would not do to let the girl see the shade of her father, his angry spirit kept in her rooms.
A bouquet of wildflowers appeared in the priestess’s hand, and Selene gasped in delight.