Cleopatra released Orpheus’s face and returned to the book. She lifted it again and stared at the blank page inside, closing and opening the cover. She held it out to a priest who stood beside her throne. He removed the falcon’s head from his scepter, lit the internal wick, sucked the flame into his mouth, and blew smoke across the page. Symbols appeared on the blank papyrus, almost as if they were alive beneath the surface.
“It’s working,” she said. “Again!”
“Please, my queen!” Orpheus begged.
“Go then. I tire of your presence.” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
The guards released them, and Orpheus pivoted, placing a hand on Alena’s back to guide her past the guards and toward the front of the palace. They’d taken a few long strides when screams broke out behind them. Orpheus risked a glance back to see snakes swarming from the book. One coiled and struck Cleopatra above the breast. Her eyes locked on him.
“Stop them!” Cleopatra ordered. “Kill them. Kill them now!”
Orpheus broke into a weak run as the guards closed in. They were doomed.
Alena tugged his hand. “Sing, Orpheus. Sing!”
Chapter Eleven
Alena flinched at the intensity of the sound when Orpheus heeded her request and sang. His voice rang like a bell used to call out the spirits of the dead. The melody made her want to cry, but the tone bolstered her. This song was a weapon, and he was wielding it like a sword.
The guards froze in place and the snakes poured from the book, seeming to dance to his music. They coiled and snapped. Swords clattered to the floor. Soldiers collapsed.
Alena had never seen this variety of viper, but they must be poisonous. Black veins had already extended from the place of Cleopatra’s bite, and she clutched her throne as if she was in pain.
Orpheus’s voice gave out, cracking from weakness and thirst. He took Alena by the arm and dragged her toward the exit. Where he got the strength, she had no idea. She was so tired she could hardly stand upright. Howls of pain behind her told her the snakes had done their duty.
“Come. Quickly,” Orpheus said, ushering her around a corner and into a dark corridor.
More guards were running toward them, called forward by the screams.
“This way.”
A golden glow shone from a hidden doorway. Alena slipped into a secret passageway where Isis herself greeted them. The goddess glided through the walls of the palace, the stone arranging itself at her will. A few moments later, they emerged through a narrow doorway onto the streets of Alexandria.
Night had fallen, and Alena welcomed the cover of darkness as they slipped into the city. Already they heard a commotion and screams coming from the palace. Cleopatra was dead. The country would soon be in turmoil.
“My home is this way,” Alena said, pointing toward the river.
But the goddess shook her head. “Every soldier and citizen of Egypt will come looking for you. The guards will blame you for her death. It is easier to do than to tell the truth. If you stay here, they will kill you.”
Alena darted a worried glance toward Orpheus, but he’d gone still as midnight water. Tears welled in her eyes. “Truly, I can go no farther.”
“How do I keep her safe?” Orpheus murmured, wrapping his arm weakly around her.
When his gaze settled on her, there was no mistaking the intention behind the question. Her heart wrenched at the realization that he’d sacrifice himself for her again and again if he had to. They’d shared a deep connection in Hades. Was it possible it was all genuine and would continue now that they were back in the real world?
Isis removed a stone, shiny and veined with gold, from the folds of her dress. She held it out to them. A symbol of a tree was carved into the surface. Alena moved closer, curious about what it was.
“When the goddess Hera married Zeus, Gaea gifted her with the Garden of the Hesperides. Once you are inside this garden, your safety is assured. The creatures who live there, the garden nymphs, will see to your every need.”
Alena swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She was tired, so tired. “Once we’re inside.Ifwe can get past the dragon.”
“Dragon?” Orpheus asked.
“Yes, a dragon guards the entrance,” Alena said. “Hera isn’t keen on having uninvited guests.”
“Hera,” Isis said, “is too busy chasing after Zeus to know what’s happening in her garden. She will never know you are there. And as for the dragon…” Her eyes focused on Orpheus.
He shook his head. “I can’t sing. I have nothing left.”
