Queen of Kings - Maria Dahvana Headley [92]
She hungered for the heart of the emperor of Rome. She imagined him pleading for his life. She would not grant him, nor any of the others who had fought with him in Alexandria, mercy. They would each be consumed. She was the Eater of Souls here, she realized.
She was the decider of fates.
Cleopatra hurried into the area of the lions, sighting familiar cats from the voyage. She leaned against the lion’s cage for a moment, enjoying the darkness and the sounds of eating and grooming. Her presence calmed the cats. Aboard the ship, she’d slept as an animal beside them, feeling part of a family as she never had in her childhood. She’d never been able to reach out her fingers in her sleep and touch another person, not until Antony and her children.
Cleopatra stayed a moment, thinking about her lost life, and then shook the sad thoughts away. She slipped through the bars.
20
Outside the arena, Nicolaus sprinted through the arcade, his robe catching on the splintery stalls as the vendors packed up their items and began to depart. Somehow, he’d found himself opening the door of Virgil’s house and running through the streets, thinking, perhaps delusionally, that he would convince Cleopatra not to do what she planned.
He knew better than to trust her. He’d searched the city for her to no avail the moment he realized she was gone, and when he saw the posters announcing the venatio, he knew where he would find her.
Help me, she’d said, and he’d felt so guilty there in the hold of the ship, his hand on her empty heart, that he had helped her into Rome, telling himself that if he found her children, she would be satisfied. Telling himself that she was only a woman, a mother, that she could be talked out of vengeance.
He was a fool. Sekhmet controlled her.
His quest through Virgil’s library had unearthed little of use, though he’d read for hours about immortal battles, about immortal monsters. Eternal life might sometimes be relinquished, but this was a dispensation given only by the gods. There were no stories of mortals working such spells. Immortals might kill other immortals in certain circumstances, but that was not helpful either.
Nicolaus was helpless, and he knew the queen suspected as much. He’d thought, in the ship, that she desired separation from the goddess, but now he wondered if she had simply used him to smuggle herself easily into Rome.
The entire city was in or outside the Circus Maximus. It was a trap, he knew. There was no other explanation for the nighttime venatio, the display of the emperor and of Cleopatra’s children, the mention of Antony. They knew she was in Rome and meant to draw her out.
Nicolaus wavered, nauseated. Had he any sense at all, he’d flee this city.
He knew that she would not stop before she killed Augustus, and to kill the emperor, she would have to go through hundreds of people. If this was a planned event, a trap for the queen, Augustus would be guarded by the entire arena.
He saw the imperial procession, litters being carried down the Palatine on their way to the circus, directly in his path. The procession was surrounded by guards, and he shifted his course away from it, dashing in the opposite direction. Agrippa’s men were everywhere, some of them in civilian attire. He could tell the soldiers by their posture. All of them were on alert.
He slipped into the arena with a group of senators, their robes crisp and their bald heads shining. Once he was inside, he spun, searching the crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people were already in the stands, shouting and craning their necks, hoping for a glimpse of the animals. The arena floor was empty as the emperor entered high in the stands, being led to his private box. No sign of Cleopatra in the area surrounding Augustus, but her children were there, positioned around the emperor. Alexander sat on the emperor’s left, and Ptolemy in his lap. They were decked in golden headdresses, their faces painted as young kings of Egypt.