“I can’t even make out the door we came through,” Alena said.
“Odd that.” Orpheus grimaced, showing a mouthful of suspiciously straight white teeth. No other man, Greek or Egyptian, sported such a perfect smile. She wondered for the hundredth time what bargain he’d struck with the gods to maintain his impossibly good looks.
“Can’t you charm a louse to squeeze through the walls and get us out of here?” Alena said through her teeth, annoyed by his nearness. She crossed her arms between them and tapped her foot expectantly in his direction.
“If there was a louse among this hairless crew, yes I could.”
“I have hair.”
He arched a brow. “And we both know that thanks to your herbal concoctions, there isn’t a single louse on you either. Although what a tiny insect could do to open a stone door anyway, I have no idea. Unfortunately, there isn’t a single living thing in this room that would be any help in getting us out of it.”
She shook her head. “As expected, a bastion of self-importance but completely useless in a crunch.”
He recoiled from the insult but recovered soon enough. “What about you, Alena? Don’t you have anything in that bag that could help us?” He glared at the satchel at her hip.
She didn’t go anywhere without her apothecary basket, and she’d felt fortunate when the guards had allowed her to bring it. Inside, she stored a wide variety of herbs and elixirs in small glass jars or wrapped in parchment.
She placed a protective hand over it. “Only if we all come down with fever.”
Nonchalantly, he leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his legs at the ankle. “As expected. Asserts to raise the dead but completely useless in an emergency.”
“I never said I could raise the dead! Oh, you’re a child.” She turned her back to him, a welcome surge of anger and frustration driving out her previous fears.
“Frankly, I’m surprised the soldiers allowed you to bring your apothecary,” he murmured thoughtfully.
She turned back to him. “It was unusual. At the time, I assumed someone in the palace needed healing, but clearly that’s not why I’m here.” Her eyes narrowed on him.
“Why areyouhere anyway? Didn’t you tell Cleopatra’s guards that you’re an archon of Athens, invited here as an advisor by the pharaoh herself?”
His face fell at her reference to the lie he’d used to try to take advantage of her. “I never said I was an archon. You assumed.”
She clenched her teeth. “Only because you had suggested as much on the boat to Alexandria. The elaborate clothing, the food, the servants. It all seemed to indicate you were an important government official, a leader.”
“As I recall, you benefited frequently from my generosity.”
She couldn’t deny it. He had been generous, and at the time that generosity had meant everything to her.
“The crew of the vessel said you were the eponymous archon of Athens. Who would have told them such if not you? And you did not refute it, although you must have heard the rumors.”
“Is it my duty to correct every wagging tongue? Athens has a council of archons, not a single magistrate. You should have known it was a falsehood.”
“You knew and you allowed me to believe it. It was under that presumption that I allowed you to woo me within a hair’s breadth of your bed, only to discover in the most embarrassing way that it was all a lie.”
For weeks he’d pursued her, bringing her gifts, sharing long walks, even doing his best to bump into her at the market. But then he’d invited her to a feast at the home of a prominent Alexandrian. It was there that a group of elderly wives had pulled her aside and told her the truth. He was the louse charmer—their name for the barber—and she was one of many women he’d wooed under false pretenses. He was a cad, a rake, and a scoundrel. The old women had wasted no time sharing their deep regret that her reputation among the elite was already scarred by arriving on his arm.
“I pursued you because I enjoyed your company.” He gave her a wicked half smile. “Not only to bed you.”
“He flirts with every woman in the city,” she said, mimicking the voice of the old women. “He’s a scoundrel, a cheater. Allow him between your legs and it will be the last time he gives you any attention whatsoever.”
“Untrue. You can’t believe such things.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” She planted her fists on her hips. “And the woman I saw coming out of your abode on the last moon?”
He opened his mouth but stopped short. His gaze lifted toward the ceiling. “Not that I don’t love debating the history of our meeting and my scandalous behavior once again, but does it appear to you that the smoke is gathering?”
Alena glanced upward to find a thick cloud building above them. “The torches. There’s no ventilation.” The small, windowless room was growing warmer as well. Already her eyes stung, and the air appeared cloudy between them. “There isn’t enough space and too many mouths breathing. Orpheus, if this keeps building…” She gave him an ominous look.
He inhaled deeply and muttered something inaudible under his breath.
