Read Online Every Last Kiss, Final Copy, June 30, 2011 by Courtney Cole - Free Book Online

never prove it.  The Romans had ordered all likenesses of her destroyed after her death.  Of course, I now remembered that the historians were correct.
            Like every Ptolemy before her, Cleopatra was Greek.  She had inherited the distinct Ptolemaic nose, clear proof of her distinguished blood-line. Her eyes were so dark that they were almost black, but contrary to hundreds of modern depictions, her hair was not.
            It was a thick and glossy chestnut brown, tumbling down to the small of her back.  She chose to wear shiny black wigs in an effort to appear more Egyptian, making her more relatable to her Egyptian subjects. Among eight other languages, she spoke fluent Egyptian for the same reason.  She was shockingly intelligent.
            She rose from her little bench and opened a mother-of-pearl wardrobe directly to our left.  It was filled with black wigs of every length and type.  She stood in front of them, debating which one to choose, before she finally lifted down a shoulder length glossy black wig with bangs and handed it to me.
            “This one, I think,” she murmured, seating herself at her vanity once again.  The light from the balcony shone directly into the room, gleaming against her oil infused skin. 
            I quickly twisted her hair into a simple bun at the nape of her neck and deftly worked her wig down over it.  From a nearby jewelry chest, I chose several golden chains and layered them around her crown.  Whenever she moved, they tinkled lightly.  It was a detail she enjoyed. 
            Leaning back, I examined the finished product.  As normal, she was beautiful.  Her perfume was delicate, yet distinct.  No one else in the world smelled like she did- she had perfume makers custom make her scent.  Her slender arms were adorned with jeweled arm cuffs, her ears were decorated with large golden earrings.  Her obsidian eyes, as black as night, met mine in the mirror.  Hers were twinkling.
            “Do I pass inspection, then?” she laughed. 
            “You always do, my queen,” I smiled.  “Thanks in no small part to me.”
            “As I said, you’re just as cheeky as ten people put together, sweetling,” she answered.  But she smiled and stood, linking her arm with mine. 
            “Come, Charmian.  I wish to have a large breakfast, to entirely gorge myself in a very unladylike manner on roasted fish and cinnamon toasted pecans.  But first, I have a mind to see my Lotus blossoms.  They are lovely this time of year.” 
            I shook my head.  Cleopatra, like almost every other woman on the face of the planet, past and present, was a stress eater.  She would eat herself silly and then moan about her stomach ache and wonder why I had allowed her to act in such an un-queenly way.  But at this point, it really didn’t matter.  We would be dead long before she had time to get fat from the bad habit, something that was not a comforting thought. 
            I took her arm and we walked from her opulent bedroom.  She was right.  The royal gardens were absolutely beautiful this time of year.  

 

     
         CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
     

    W e wound our way through the decadent palace, nodding at a pair of house-servants as we encountered them on the wide marble staircase.  Regardless of the stairs, they immediately dropped to the floor, their backs hunched as their foreheads pressed firmly to the stone.  Both women kept their dark eyes downward until Cleopatra had passed.
          I had forgotten the level of deference shown to the queen.  My western upbringing as Macy reared its head and I suddenly found the behavior insanely hilarious since I had been away from it for so long.  They literally stuck their faces into the floor just because Cleopatra walked by.  It was… crazy. And it struck me as hilarious.
          Cleopatra glanced sharply at me as I