Every Last Kiss, Final Copy, June 30, 2011 (20 page)

        He pierced me again with his onyx stare and opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when another priest quickly entered the chambers. 

        “Annen, we require your assistance.  Thutmose has fallen- his ankle is broken.  I can see the bone.  Can you bring your herbs? We need to make a poultice to wrap it with.”  With a quick bow to Cleopatra, the other priest was back out the doors and Annen turned once again to us.

        “I’m sorry, my ladies.  My services are required.  But we can discuss this further at a later date.”

        “How about this evening?” Cleopatra suggested.  “Please come as my guest to dinner tonight.  We can discuss it further then.  As you know, time is of the essence.”   

        “Of course, your highness.  It would be my great honor.”  Bowing low, he rose slowly and gathered a few foul-smelling jars from the dark shelves behind him.  We followed him out and when we came to a T in the hallway, he turned to me. 

        “There is one thing, Charmian.  If you should die while you are back here, every life you have had in the interim will disappear. As you can imagine, that will create giant rips in the fabric of time, affecting hundreds of lives.  You must endeavor not to die.”

        “Don’t worry,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. 
Endeavor not to die. 
Was he serious?

        My shoulders slumped as Cleopatra and I walked back toward the tunnels. I don’t know what I had been hoping for, but it certainly wasn’t this.  I wanted answers and an idea of how to acquire the bloodstone from Pothinus.  What I had received was an even more jumbled mystery surrounding my own life. 

        We were back to square one. 

        As Cleopatra and I stepped into the shadowed underground passage, she turned to me, her beautiful face serious and composed. 

        “We will need to seek Pothinus out today, Charmian.  I am growing weary of these games. Time is running out.” 

        Her voice was firm and determined and I was inclined to agree.  I was tired of playing, too. 

        “Where do you think we should start, my queen?”

        “With Tehran, of course.  I had an idea while speaking with Annen.”

        “And?” I prompted her when she paused dramatically.

        “We will summon Tehran to my quarters and we will lure him to our side.  We will promise him an exalted place in my court, a place that will be cemented in history, in exchange for his defection.”

        “But Cleopatra, we can’t do that—we can’t change history in such a way!”

        She looked at me demurely. 

        “I didn’t say we would follow through with our promises, Charmian.  Really… keep up!  We will be lying, of course.”

        And once again, Cleopatra’s determination and cunning showed through her beautiful exterior facade, leaving me impressed.  She was willing to do anything to save Egypt’s rightful place in history, even though she knew she herself was doomed.  Lying to a house servant would be nothing in comparison to that.  We would just have to be convincing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
nnen was dead.

        As we ate at the heavily laden carved banquet table, a soldier rushed in to Cleopatra, rasping quickly into her ear.  She stood, her face drained of color and fled the room without a word.  Antony, Hasani and I stared at each other in shock.  My immediate thought was that something had happened to one of the children.  Her expression had been that grave. 

        “I’ll go,” I murmured, pushing away from the table.  Hasani’s expression was concerned as he placed his hand gently on my back. 

        “If you need us, call quickly,” he instructed.  If only I could.

        I nodded as I turned and chased after the queen.  I could feel the stares of everyone in the room between my shoulder blades and I had to say, I was surprised that Antony didn’t follow.  But he didn’t.  He simply trusted that we would send for him. 

        Cleopatra was already in her room by the time I caught up with her, pacing holes in her carpet again and wringing her hands.  Her face was as pale as I’d ever seen it.  I rushed to her side, grabbing her arm lightly.

        “Cleopatra, what is it?” I demanded, my eyes frozen on her colorless face. 

        Her colorful eye makeup and lip stain looked brash against the suddenly white tone of her skin. She practically blended right into the paleness of her white evening shift.

        She shook her head morosely, opening her mouth.  But nothing came out. 

        “Cleopatra, you’re scaring me.  What is it?” My voice held wild notes of alarm. 

        She turned to me, placing her hand comfortingly on my shoulder, but it wasn’t comforting at all, not with her tension so palpable.

        “Charmian, Annen is dead.  I have to assume that Pothinus killed him. He was found on the altars of the Serapis, run through with a sword.”

        I gasped sharply.  “No.  If he is dead, then…”

        “Then he cannot further help us.”  Her mouth was a thin line, pressed tightly together. 

        “And I have no idea how to leave here,” I added tentatively, my voice small.  I dropped onto the lavish softness of her bed. 

        “Cleopatra, I have to admit… I’m at a loss for what to do.  It seems as though fixing this is impossible!  Do we beg Ahmose to go back in time once again and repair this?  Because Annen wasn’t meant to die this way.” 

        Cleopatra’s face was thoughtful as she stared out the balcony doors at the twinkling stars.  A golden statue of Ra the sun god gazed down at me, his expression stern and judgmental… as though even he, a mythological creature, was holding me responsible.  I stared back defiantly.  This wasn’t my fault.  I hadn’t asked for this. 

        “I think not, Charmian,” Cleopatra finally murmured, turning back to face me.  “I wish that we could, but as you know, we seem to make things worse when we attempt to repair them.”  That was the honest to god truth. It seemed we could do nothing right.  It was discouraging.

        “Then what shall we do?” I whispered. 

        “We will continue with our plans.  Tomorrow morning, we will summon Tehran and put our plan into motion.  We must get this going, Charmian.  Every minute that you are here, we risk changing history, rather than repairing it.  It is becoming exhausting.”

        I nodded silently and helped her prepare for bed.  After removing her wig, brushing her long hair and helping her wash off her make-up, I stood back as she shrugged into a sheer nightgown.  The breeze from the window fluttered the hem around her legs, making her seem almost ethereal in the lamplight. 

        “Are you good here, Cleopatra? I think I will retire as well.”

        “Yes, you may go, Charmian,” she sighed.  “Try to sleep well and I will see you in the morning.  We have our work cut out for us.  We’ll have to depend on your dramatic prowess.” She smiled in the moonlight.  Even now, she couldn’t help but tease me.  “And Charmian?  Will you send someone for Antony?” 

        “Of course, Cleopatra.  Good night, my queen,” I smiled back before I quietly walked out into the hall, pausing only to instruct the guards to send someone for Antony, before I continued on to my chambers. 

        Opening my door, I sensed Hasani’s presence before I even entered my room.

        “I thought you would never get here,” he murmured, stepping from the darkness to cup my face gently.  Tilting it up, he ran his thumbs along my lips, before he kissed them softly.

        “Silly man,” I murmured, as I inhaled his woodsy fragrance.  “I wasn’t with Cleopatra long.  And weren’t you with Antony?  Strategizing?” 

      I smiled gently at him, twining my fingers into his hair and pulling him close.  Something about his solid, muscular frame pressed against me made me feel oh-so-safe, even though I knew how my future was written.  I silently cursed the bloodstone again.  Knowing the future really sucked, because I couldn’t fully enjoy the present.

        “Don’t you worry, woman,” he assured me, running his big hands lightly over my body.  “We’re both here now.”

        Goosebumps formed every where he touched and I shivered in the cool night breeze from my windows. 

        “You are in good hands,” he grinned, his white smile dazzling, as he dropped onto my bed and pulled me down with him, running his lips along the soft skin of my neck. 

        Maybe I could enjoy the present after all. 

* * *

      Hasani was gone when I woke and I squeezed my eyes shut against the light from the flickering wall sconces.  He must have lit them for me before he left and even in my grumpy morning mood, I had to smile at his consideration.  I pulled the covers over my head and rested my cheek against the comfort of my pillow for a few minutes longer before I finally sighed and emerged into the reality of daytime. 

        It couldn’t be much past daybreak, since the orange fingers of the sun were just starting to curl around the horizon.  Hasani must have risen early to run drills with his soldiers before the Alexandrian heat rolled in.  Antony was probably with him. 

        I got up quickly, tying a soft white scarf around my waist and putting on a jeweled golden brassiere.   As I pulled my hair away from my face and fastened gold earrings into my ears, I briefly pondered my older body.  As Charmian, I may be thirty-nine, but my body was as svelte as a teen’s.  Fascinating.  It probably had a lot to do with the fact that ancient Egyptians didn’t have French fries or ice cream.

        Sitting down at my vanity table, I pulled out the multiple jars required for my daily skin care and cosmetics application, sighing as I did.  As Macy, I was a very low-key, low-maintenance person. Charmian’s intricate, Egyptian beauty regime was tiresome.  But I had to admit that it was effective.  I had a perfect complexion.

        Dipping my fingers into a jar of scented oil, I glanced back into the mirror as I began to apply it.  And froze with my fingers at the base of my neck.

        A woman, pale and beautiful, sat on the bed behind me as though she belonged there.  Her eyes were ice blue and her long hair was so blonde that it was snow white. I whirled around to face her.

        “How did you get in here?” I demanded.  “How did you get past the guards?”

        She smiled peacefully at me, but didn’t answer.

        “Can you speak?” I asked.  “Who are you?”

        She studied me again, unmoving and silent from her perch on my bed.  She wore silvery robes embroidered with rich blue which were spread around her and her long fingernails were silver.  They sparkled in the muted light from my window.  She reminded me of what a fairy would be like.  An odd sensation began to build in my chest and I hesitated.

        “Who are you?” I whispered again.

        “You know who I am,” she said gently, as she rose from the bed.  She was so graceful that it seemed as though she floated as she walked toward me. 

        “I don’t,” I argued, as she came to a stop behind me. 

        “You do,” she insisted softly, as she placed her hands on my shoulders.  And in that instant, the second that her hands touched me, I did.

        I was standing face to face with Lachesis, the middle sister of the Fates.  Terrifying and powerful, the last time I had seen her, she had been an ancient, stooped hag.  My eyes flew in amazement to her lovely, young face.

        She smiled.

        “I can appear as I wish, Charmian,” she said lightly.  “You are beautiful.  So, of course I wanted to appear beautiful, as well.  I have no wish to scare you.”

        “Then what is your wish?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes locked on her face.

        She reached past me and picked up the jar of oil, dipping her long fingers into it. Picking up my arm, she gently began rubbing the scented oil into my skin as she spoke. 

        “You are one of twelve, Charmian.  Did you know that?” I shook my head, instantly intrigued.

        “Yes.  Twelve very important people were chosen so long ago to assist us throughout the millennia.  You were chosen for your bravery and your heart.”

        She turned my wrist over and fingered my scar.

        “I placed the mark of the phoenix upon your wrist myself.  The phoenix is sacred to the order, Charmian.  It symbolizes re-birth and life, the very thing that we stand for… the things that we protect. And we gave you that mark.  It is an honor.”

        I nodded.  “Yes, of course it is.”

        “Then why have you been doubting us?” she turned her large blue eyes to me, beseeching me. 

        “I haven’t!” I protested. “The priest Annen has tried to convince me of his theories… but being a member of the Order is all I know.  I have no wish to believe him.”

        “But you’ve wondered.”

        She stated it as a fact, watching my face as she absently held her open palm out to a butterfly that had flown in from my window.  The delicate yellow wings quivered as it crawled onto her hand and sat still. 

        “I know your heart, Charmian.”

        I sighed.  “I couldn’t help but wonder how much truth was in what he said.  But I have no wish to believe him. I’ve put his claims out of my mind.”

        “As you should,” she instructed with the first trace of a harsh tone. 

        She watched the butterfly for a moment more, her blue eyes glinting, before she snapped her hand shut, crushing the delicate insect between her fingers.  I gasped as she put it in her mouth, chewing calmly as she contemplated me.

        “You are one of the best we have, Charmian.  Yet you’ve lost your bloodstone.”

        My heart dropped into my toes.  I couldn’t deny it. 

        “Yes,” I admitted in a whisper, my head bowed. 

        “Get it back,” she hissed, her face clouding over and for a split second, one brief moment, I saw a glimpse of the ancient hag that she was.  I sucked my breath in, waiting for a storm.