EMPIRE OF ASH AND GOLD.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:The thread Between Us

Cleopatra

The bells would not stop.

Their deep ringing rolled across Alexandria, pulling soldiers from every corridor and sending servants rushing through the palace.

I stood in the temple courtyard while my guards searched the grounds.

"Seal every gate."

My commander bowed.

"Already done, Majesty."

"Search the servants' quarters. Every room."

"Yes."

"And find out how those men entered the temple."

He turned to leave.

"Majesty."

I looked at him.

"What about Alexander?"

My eyes moved toward the corridor where he had disappeared.

"Find him."

The commander hesitated.

"Alive?"

I almost laughed.

"Of course alive."

At least, that was what I intended.

I took a step toward the temple entrance.

Pain suddenly tore through my shoulder.

I stopped.

My hand flew to the spot.

For one terrifying second, I couldn't breathe.

The pain was sharp.

Deep.

Then it vanished.

I looked at my shoulder.

Nothing.

No blood.

No wound.

"Majesty?"

Charmion hurried toward me.

"I'm fine."

"You nearly fell."

"I said I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced.

Neither was I.

I turned toward the temple.

Alexander stood at the opposite end of the courtyard.

His face was pale.

His hand was pressed against his shoulder.

He was staring at me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then he slowly lowered his hand.

I looked away first.

I refused to let him see that I had noticed.

"Come with me," I told Charmion.

"Where?"

"My chambers."

I walked away.

Behind me, I heard Alexander say something to one of the guards.

I didn't listen.

At least, I tried not to.

Alexander

My shoulder burned.

I had felt the pain the moment the assassin fired.

But the bolt had never touched me.

I had pulled Cleopatra out of its path.

The arrow struck the stone behind her.

Yet my shoulder felt as though the blade had gone straight through it.

I touched the spot.

Nothing.

No wound.

No blood.

Just pain.

I looked across the courtyard.

Cleopatra was watching me.

Then she turned away.

She had felt something too.

I didn't know what.

And I wasn't ready to ask.

Not yet.

I followed the guards toward the lower chambers.

The assassin was supposed to be dead.

Instead, he was alive.

Barely.

Two soldiers stood outside his cell.

"He's awake," one said.

"Has he spoken?"

"Not since he woke."

I entered.

The man sat against the wall, his wrists chained.

His face was swollen.

Blood covered one side of his mouth.

He looked at me.

Then smiled.

"You."

I stopped.

"Who sent you?"

His smile widened.

"You're asking the wrong question."

"What is the right one?"

His eyes moved toward the corridor.

Toward the palace.

"The queen."

I stepped closer.

"What about her?"

He laughed.

"You brought her back."

My expression hardened.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Neither does she."

He coughed.

Blood appeared on his lips.

I grabbed the front of his tunic.

"Explain."

His eyes flicked toward my hand.

Then he smiled again.

"The gods made a mistake."

Before I could answer, the door opened.

Cleopatra entered.

She had changed clothes.

Her hair was pulled back, and the royal gold at her throat caught the torchlight.

Her gaze immediately went to the assassin.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing useful."

The assassin laughed.

"She doesn't know."

Cleopatra stepped toward him.

"Know what?"

He stared at her.

For the first time, fear appeared in his eyes.

Not because of her.

Because of something he remembered.

"She shouldn't have awakened it."

"Awakened what?"

He shook his head.

"Ask the priests."

"Which priests?"

"The ones beneath the stone."

Cleopatra's expression hardened.

"Who sent you?"

The assassin's eyes shifted toward me.

"Rome."

I stepped forward.

"Which Roman?"

He smiled.

"Does it matter?"

"It will when I find him."

His smile disappeared.

"You're too late."

"For what?"

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came.

Blood suddenly ran from his nose.

His body jerked.

The guards rushed forward.

Cleopatra stepped back.

The assassin collapsed.

Dead.

Silence filled the chamber.

I stared at the body.

Then something warm touched my upper lip.

I wiped it away.

Blood.

I frowned.

Cleopatra was looking at me.

"You're bleeding."

I looked at her.

"I know."

She took a step closer.

"From where?"

I touched my nose.

"I don't know."

She stared at the blood on my fingers.

Then her expression changed.

Her hand rose slowly to her own nose.

She froze.

A small drop of blood rested beneath her nostril.

Neither of us spoke.

Charmion looked between us.

"Majesty..."

Cleopatra wiped the blood away.

"Probably the heat."

I looked at the dead assassin.

"It wasn't hot in here."

She gave me a sharp look.

"Then perhaps it was the dust."

I almost smiled.

"You don't believe that."

"Neither do you."

She turned toward the guards.

"Search his belongings."

The soldiers began removing the man's weapons and clothing.

A moment later, one of them pulled a small bronze object from beneath his tunic.

He held it up.

A winged sun was carved into the metal.

Cleopatra's expression changed.

"Where have I seen that?"

I stepped closer.

"Babylon."

She looked at me.

"You've seen it before?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"On a seal belonging to a Persian priest."

"Why would a Persian symbol be on a Roman assassin?"

"I don't know."

She studied the object.

Neither did I.

But I remembered something else.

The moment I had touched the symbol in Babylon, three centuries ago, I'd felt a burning sensation beneath my ribs.

I hadn't thought about it since.

Now my shoulder began to ache again.

I looked at Cleopatra.

She had gone pale.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Her voice was too quick.

I noticed her hand pressed against her side.

"Where does it hurt?"

She looked at me sharply.

"It doesn't."

"You touched your ribs."

"So?"

"So you looked like you were in pain."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps I am."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps I'm tired."

She walked past me.

I watched her leave.

Something wasn't right.

But I couldn't tell whether the problem was her...

or me.

Cleopatra

I shut the doors to my chambers behind me.

My heart was beating too quickly.

I pressed my hand against my ribs.

The ache was still there.

Not severe.

Just enough to remind me it existed.

I had felt it the moment the assassin died.

That was impossible.

I walked toward the mirror.

My reflection looked calm.

I wasn't.

I touched my nose.

No more blood.

I thought about Alexander.

The blood beneath his nose.

The pain in his shoulder.

The strange moment when we had looked at each other across the courtyard.

It could all be coincidence.

It had to be.

I had ruled Egypt long enough to know that fear could turn ordinary events into patterns.

Still...

The feeling wouldn't leave me.

Someone knocked.

"Enter."

Charmion came inside.

"You should rest."

"I have work."

"You were nearly killed."

"I wasn't."

"You were standing beneath a crossbow."

"I am aware."

She sighed.

"Alexander saved you."

I looked at her.

"I know."

"You don't trust him."

"No."

"But he saved you."

"That doesn't make him trustworthy."

Charmion smiled faintly.

"No. It doesn't."

She placed a small cup on the table.

"What is that?"

"Wine."

"I don't want it."

"You haven't eaten."

"I'll eat later."

She looked at me for a moment.

Then said quietly,

"You're thinking about him."

I turned toward the window.

"Go."

She smiled.

"Goodnight, Majesty."

The door closed.

I remained by the window.

Below, the palace courtyard was almost empty.

Alexander stood there alone.

He looked up.

Our eyes met.

Neither of us moved.

Then, without understanding why, I placed my hand over my shoulder.

Across the courtyard, Alexander did the same.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of us knew why we'd done it.

And neither of us was willing to ask.

Yet.