Chapter 15
It was Stateira who broke the spell as she turned to the fanning plain.
“Father,” she cried, “why don’t you answer me?”
“My lady,” Bagoas said gently as he reached her, taking her hand. “Come away from this dreadful place.”
“Someday I will weep for it,” she said, allowing herself to be persuaded. “Someday. When I am happy.”
What one heart rejects another embraces—or at least pretends to for its own advantage. The city of Babylon gave us a hero’s homecoming though we had never passed through the blue and amber gates of Ishtar before. Still, the pink rose petals wafted from the crenellated rooftops. Silver altars of frankincense lined the route. And the shouts of the crowd—mingled with the chants of the Magi—were as deafening as the roar of the lions and leopards.
“The peopl
