Read Online The Princess of Egypt Must Die by Stephanie Dray - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Dray
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the Roman struck Helios on the side of the head, knocking him to the floor and sending his torch skimming across the marble. Rough hands had never been laid upon us, and now I was more angry than frightened. “By what right do you strike my brother?” I demanded to know. “He’s King Alexander Helios of Armenia, Media, and Parthia. Have you no respect for kings?”
“Rome has little respect for kings,” the Roman answered. “And I respect them even less.”
By now, Helios had scrambled to his feet. The beaded belt of his tunic was askew and his golden vulture amulet swung wildly. Where the stranger had struck him, his face, neck and ear were red, but he schooled his fair features to a royal demeanor nonetheless. “It was my father, a triumvir of Rome, who made me a king.”
“He had no right,” the stranger replied. “Your so-called kingdom Parthia isn’t even yet conquered. We should send you there and see if you can hold it, you treacherous boy.”
Helios glared. “What treachery do you speak of, Octavian?”
“ Octavian?” The man laughed deep from his belly. “Did you think he would stoop to question the children of that woman ? I’m Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.”
I knew this name. Agrippa had defeated my father at the naval battle of Actium and was Rome’s most able fighter. Philadelphus must have recognized Agrippa’s name too, for he tightened his grip on my skirt until I thought it would tear. Meanwhile, Agrippa folded his meaty arms, stepping closer to Helios. “Besides, when you meet your new master, you’ll address him not as Octavian but as Caesar .”
Helios said what my mother would have. “Octavian has no right to the name Caesar. My brother, the Most Divine, King Ptolemy Caesarion, is Julius Caesar’s only son.”
“Boy,” Agrippa began, “you’re in no position to talk of rights or quibble about titles. Caesar promised your mother that he’d torture and kill you if she took her own life. It’ll only be Caesar’s clemency that saves you now, so I suggest you call him whatever he likes.”
“I’ll use his title if he uses mine,” Helios replied, his hubris owing as much to our upbringing as to the fact he was still a boy. He was rewarded for that hubris with a slap that brought blood to his mouth. Helios swung back at the giant but missed. Then Agrippa grabbed Helios by his golden hair and seemed ready to beat him in earnest.
“Please don’t hurt my brother!” Philadelphus cried.
I had to do something, but what? “Lord Agrippa!” I shouted. Though my hands trembled, I clutched the amulet my mother had given me and adopted my most adult voice. “You’ve introduced yourself. Permit me to do the same. I’m Cleopatra Selene, Queen of Cyrenaica.”
“Girl, I didn’t address you.” The Roman clenched his fist, ready to strike Helios.
I hid my shaking hands. “Nonetheless, you’re a guest in our royal palace, and I insist that you behave like one.”
Agrippa peered at me from beneath the crest of his helmet then released Helios with a shove. “How old are you?”
“Nearly eleven,” I said.
“You don’t speak like a child.”
“I speak like a queen.” Or so I hoped. “How can We help you, Lord Agrippa?”
I had used the royal We and the brute of a man seemed disarmed. “You can tell me how your mother managed to cheat Rome of seeing her dragged through the streets in chains. We know you were with her before she died. Who helped her?”
I did , I thought, and my knees went weak with fear.
Several Roman guards crowded near the doorway. They didn’t enter but seemed to pay close attention to what was said behind their veneer of professional disinterest. But I didn’t answer Agrippa’s question. I couldn’t answer.
As if to coax me, Agrippa said, “Caesar allowed your father an honorable burial and Queen Cleopatra promised not to kill herself. She broke her bargain. So who helped her? How did she do it? Was it poison?”
My heart thumped dully
“Rome has little respect for kings,” the Roman answered. “And I respect them even less.”
By now, Helios had scrambled to his feet. The beaded belt of his tunic was askew and his golden vulture amulet swung wildly. Where the stranger had struck him, his face, neck and ear were red, but he schooled his fair features to a royal demeanor nonetheless. “It was my father, a triumvir of Rome, who made me a king.”
“He had no right,” the stranger replied. “Your so-called kingdom Parthia isn’t even yet conquered. We should send you there and see if you can hold it, you treacherous boy.”
Helios glared. “What treachery do you speak of, Octavian?”
“ Octavian?” The man laughed deep from his belly. “Did you think he would stoop to question the children of that woman ? I’m Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.”
I knew this name. Agrippa had defeated my father at the naval battle of Actium and was Rome’s most able fighter. Philadelphus must have recognized Agrippa’s name too, for he tightened his grip on my skirt until I thought it would tear. Meanwhile, Agrippa folded his meaty arms, stepping closer to Helios. “Besides, when you meet your new master, you’ll address him not as Octavian but as Caesar .”
Helios said what my mother would have. “Octavian has no right to the name Caesar. My brother, the Most Divine, King Ptolemy Caesarion, is Julius Caesar’s only son.”
“Boy,” Agrippa began, “you’re in no position to talk of rights or quibble about titles. Caesar promised your mother that he’d torture and kill you if she took her own life. It’ll only be Caesar’s clemency that saves you now, so I suggest you call him whatever he likes.”
“I’ll use his title if he uses mine,” Helios replied, his hubris owing as much to our upbringing as to the fact he was still a boy. He was rewarded for that hubris with a slap that brought blood to his mouth. Helios swung back at the giant but missed. Then Agrippa grabbed Helios by his golden hair and seemed ready to beat him in earnest.
“Please don’t hurt my brother!” Philadelphus cried.
I had to do something, but what? “Lord Agrippa!” I shouted. Though my hands trembled, I clutched the amulet my mother had given me and adopted my most adult voice. “You’ve introduced yourself. Permit me to do the same. I’m Cleopatra Selene, Queen of Cyrenaica.”
“Girl, I didn’t address you.” The Roman clenched his fist, ready to strike Helios.
I hid my shaking hands. “Nonetheless, you’re a guest in our royal palace, and I insist that you behave like one.”
Agrippa peered at me from beneath the crest of his helmet then released Helios with a shove. “How old are you?”
“Nearly eleven,” I said.
“You don’t speak like a child.”
“I speak like a queen.” Or so I hoped. “How can We help you, Lord Agrippa?”
I had used the royal We and the brute of a man seemed disarmed. “You can tell me how your mother managed to cheat Rome of seeing her dragged through the streets in chains. We know you were with her before she died. Who helped her?”
I did , I thought, and my knees went weak with fear.
Several Roman guards crowded near the doorway. They didn’t enter but seemed to pay close attention to what was said behind their veneer of professional disinterest. But I didn’t answer Agrippa’s question. I couldn’t answer.
As if to coax me, Agrippa said, “Caesar allowed your father an honorable burial and Queen Cleopatra promised not to kill herself. She broke her bargain. So who helped her? How did she do it? Was it poison?”
My heart thumped dully
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