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355 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2011
"You must make a choice," the Goddess said.
"Is that my only choice - to choose between men?" I asked. "I want what Mother had!"
"Your mother chose two men," she said with light laughter.
"No! She chose independence for her country. She chose power and freedom," I yelled.
Almost as if in response, a pulsating energy moved up from the ground into my bare feet. It thrummed up my body and radiated out in a bright light, first from my toes, then from my fingertips, then the top of my head.
"I choose power," I said. "I choose freedom."
”And so began the slow, excruciating process of our undoing.”Now at the mercy of the Roman empire, the brutal Roman emperor Octavian makes them slaves and send them to live with his sister and Antony's ex-wife, Octavia and Livia. But it is Cleopatra who is bound and determined to reclaim Egypt back in the name of her mother, and will stop at nothing to go back the home she knows and loves. There are enemies at every corner, however, who would absolutely love to harm the children of the Egyptian who stole their beloved general from them. Will Cleopatra Selene use her wits like her mother and find a way out of the Roman's clutches? Or will she submit to her mortal enemies?
”’May I live as you live, may I rule as you rule, may I die as you die.’”Alexandros and Ptolemy are Cleopatra's brothers. Alexandros is not nearly as passionate as his sister, and resigns himself to the fate that he will never see his homeland or family again. He kind of even goes through a period of self-destruction where he doesn't care what the heck happens to him. Ptolemy was absolutely adorable! I loved his curiosity and all-around adorableness.
”’You must make a choice,’ the Goddess said.Marcellus is the son of Octavia. He lusts after anything that moves, even though it's quite easy to find him charismatic and charming. He is also an ardent cat hater, which automatically makes him unlikable in my eyes. Juba is a former Nubian prince who is enslaved by the Romans and eventually becomes a general. I loved him! He was sweet, kind, generous, a cat-lover, and literary. However, I thought that they were nothing more than just eye candy in the throes of this political game of manipulation. I would have liked to have seen more substance in them.
‘Is that my only choice- to choose between two men?’”
But excitement and curiosity burbled in my blood as I fought to stay still, stealing side-glances whenever I could. I especially treasured my glimpses of Mother, Queen Cleopatra VII. She sat on a golden throne, looking resplendent as one of the Old Ones. Diamonds twinkled in a jungle of black braids on her ceremonial wig. She wore a diadem with three rearing snakes and a golden broad collar, shining with lapis lazuli, carnelian, and emeralds, over her golden, form-fitting pleated gown…
My brother had been called Alexandros Helios, for the sun, but I was Cleopatra Selene, the moon. I wore a flowing dress that reminded me of a liquid metal that the scientists at our Great Library described as “living silver.” A silver diadem of the moon sat atop my own thickly braided ceremonial wig. Even my sandals flashed silver.
Lady Chamion swept Mother’s robe off her shoulders as a servant rubbed Mother’s special scent—a heady mixture of lotus, rose, and other mysterious oils—into her shoulders and back. Another servant held a stirgil to scrape off the excess oil.
“Your turn,” Lady Charmion said in my ear, and I jumped. In silence, she removed my tunic and had a young maid begin rubbing my skin with Mother’s oil. I breathed deep, drinking in her unique scent.
I commanded my facial muscles not to wince at the yeasty sharp taste. I knew that this specially brewed beer was from an ancient recipe, ancient and sacred as the Great Pyramids.
“But you have been consecrated to me!” I cried. “You cannot leave!” …
“What if…what if I commanded you to stay?” I asked, lifting my chin. “I can do that!”
Euginia’s large eyes filled with tears . …
“I do not want you to go,” I said, my voice dropping almost to a whisper.
“I do not want to leave, either,” Euginia said. “But…but when this is all over, when the queen returns triumphant, I will rejoin you as your lady. Then, by the Laws of Isis and Horus, we will never be parted again. That is a promise.”
“I will hold you to it, sister,” I said through a tight throat. And so the process of losing everyone I ever loved began.
I heard a crack and felt a stinging pain on my cheek and jaw. I yelped in surprise as the dark liquid arced out of my chalice and I fell over. What had happened?
The room grew quiet. Mother stood over me, and the rage on her face made my blood run cold. “You stupid girl,” she hissed. “Do you not know better than to take a cup of untasted wine?”
Mother had slapped me…
Mother jumped out of her chair in a rage. “You wicked beast!” she hissed. “How dare you!” she took one of the still-rolled scrolls on her desk and threw it with all her might into the other room. … She cursed wildly under her breath as she checked her now-bleeding ankle. … She must have felt me watching her because she turned to me, eyes blazing.
“You come in here and rile that creature up with your ridiculous games! This is your fault. I need you to leave now!”
“But I did not do anything. I—”
“Go! Take that odious feather with you and GET OUT!”
“But the bearing of life is the province of women,” I said. “What does a male god know of these things?” …
The rabbi launched into the Hebrew story about the first man and woman. … Their god was very angry [that they had eaten the forbidden fruit] and the man blamed the woman.
“But if both the man and the woman at the fruit, why does the woman get all the blame?” I interrupted…
“Because she is weaker and tempted the man, he said, seemingly surprised at the question. “Therefore, she is more evil.”
…[M]y experience at the Jewish temple opened my eyes to the fact that most men thought women inferior. …I began paying more attention, and I grew confused by what I saw. Mother had no women in her court of advisers. Few petitioners were women. Occasionally, we saw a female scholar at the Great Library, but not often. And certainly, no women ambassadors visited the queen. What did it mean? And how had I not noticed it before? …
“Why do men blame everything on women?” I blurted.