Orpheus’s face turned cold, as if all the blood had drained from it, and his heart fluttered. So this wasn’t over. “What is this quest you speak of, my queen?”
“Octavian’s legions even now are invading Egypt. Our armies are outmatched.” Cleopatra paused for a long while, then spoke in a low voice as if she did not want the gods to hear. “What you do not know is that Mark Antony is gravely injured.”
Alena gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Calm yourself, hedge witch. I shall set things right if you and the barber succeed. I need you to retrieve something for me, a book of magic with equal ability to heal as well as destroy. A golden grimoire, promised to me by the gods.”
Orpheus exchanged glances with Alena, who looked as confused as he felt. He cleared his throat. “Where do we find this grimoire?”
“Follow me.” Cleopatra rose from her throne, her golden robes clinking with her movement. Snapping her fingers, she called a large, heavily armed guard to her side. “Make sure they behave, Ledmur.”
The guard followed behind them menacingly as the pharaoh led them deeper into the palace, the stone passageways narrowing with their progress. Orpheus glanced back when Alena grabbed his hand and squeezed. He could guess what she was thinking. It was highly unusual to be alone like this with the queen, even with an armed guard. And for her to share the news of Mark Antony’s fatal injuries meant she did not fear they would ever have the chance to speak that secret to anyone else anytime soon.
“My palace has many hidden passageways,” she said, the torchlight reflecting in her dark eyes.
She unlocked an ordinary door and led them into an even narrower corridor, barely wider than Orpheus’s shoulders. Alena kept hold of his hand as she followed behind him.
“I’ve explored every one. Doors upon doors. But this one, this door revealed itself only days ago, the day I prayed for a way to avenge Mark Antony.”
The passage opened into a dark, cavernous room with rough-hewn walls where torches flickered and shadows danced. Orpheus glanced at Alena, who’d moved closer to his side. Her lips parted as she took in the massive golden carvings before them. Orpheus was just as dumbstruck. The ancient symbols meant nothing to him, but at the center of the closed doors was the unmistakable shape of a gold peacock.
“The gods have heard my prayers. The peacock, you see, is a symbol of the all-knowing Eye of Horus. He sees and he has sent me this.” She pointed to a series of inscriptions in the stone, which Orpheus couldn’t read. It wasn’t Greek or Egyptian. “This writing is in an ancient language only one of my high priests could translate. It says the grimoire is protected by a series of challenges meant to keep the unworthy from possessing it. It tells of the book’s power to heal and destroy our enemies.” Cleopatra’s fingers trailed over the symbols. “Unfortunately, none of my champions have been able to retrieve it.”
“Is the door charmed?” Alena asked.
Cleopatra laughed. “No. It will open for you. Entering is not the problem. Coming out alive is.”
Orpheus swallowed and felt Alena shiver. “Others have attempted this quest?”
Cleopatra’s kohl-rimmed eyes met his. “None have succeeded.”
“How do you expectusto survive if the door has only ever led to death?” Alena protested in a trembling voice.
The queen tilted her head. “You survived my trial, hedge witch. Use your powers. This challenge should be easy for you and the barber. Simply follow the path to its end.”
“And if we refuse?” Orpheus scowled.
“There is no way out of this room without the grimoire.” Her blood-red lips formed an exaggerated pout.
The guard drew his sword. Orpheus could try magic, but he was sure there would be more guards. They were outnumbered here.
He glanced again toward Alena, whose expression bordered on panic. “I don’t suppose we have an option.”
Cleopatra gave him a patronizing look. “No.”
“The golden door or certain death,” Alena murmured.
“Every day without the weapon is a day we risk defeat against Octavian’s legions. Take heart, barber. The gods brought us this door. If your hearts are pure, surely the gods will come to your aid.”
“My heart hasn’t been pure since before the pyramids, my queen,” he said sarcastically.
Cleopatra raised her chin. “Then you’d better hope hers is, for both your sakes. Now, I tire of your insolence.” She gestured toward the door.
Orpheus focused on Alena. She was trembling. How he hated this, hated Cleopatra with every fiber of his being.
He offered Alena his hand. “How hard can it be? All we have to do is survive.”
Chapter Three
