Daughters of the Nile by Stephanie Dray Read Free Book Online Page A

basket. She was the one bitten, but the poison lingers in my blood to this day. I can still remember the scent of figs in my nostrils, lush and sweet. The dark god Anubis was embroidered into the woven reeds of the basket, the weight of death heavy in my arms. I can still see my mother reach her hand into that basket, surrendering her life so that her children might go on without her. And I have gone on without her. I have survived too much to be terrorized by the emperor’s agents or whomever else is responsible for this.
    If it is a message, a warning from my enemies, I have already allowed them too much of a victory by showing any reaction at all. So I adopt as serene a mask as possible. Juba, however, goes red. “I’ll have someone flogged for this.”
    My daughter blinks her big blue eyes, seeing past my facade. “Are you frightened, Mama? They can’t bite us from there. The snakes are very far away.”
    I get my legs under me, bitterness on my tongue. “Oh, but they’re never far enough away.”

Four

    MY ancestors built the Lighthouse of Alexandria, a wonder of the world. Our lighthouse here in Mauretania is not as wondrous, but it’s where I go to find my courage. Leaving my guards behind, I make the long climb up the spiral staircase to the watch room, which does much to invigorate me. There, at the top of the world, I step out onto the gallery, where the stiff ocean breeze reminds me that I am a sorceress who can command winds with her upraised hands. I can defend myself and those I love, if need be . . .
    The howl of the wind keeps me from hearing footsteps on the stairs below. It is only the sound of a door crashing open that pulls me from my thoughts. I think it will be the harbormaster or the keeper of the lighthouse, come to attend me.
    I am surprised to see the king, instead, purple cape flapping behind him.
    He is without a retinue; we are quite alone. And it startles me when the king stands at my side near the rail and takes the unusual liberty of putting his hand over mine. It is an intimacy I’ve not invited since the drunken night we conceived our son. After all, I didn’t take my husband into my bed for pleasure; I took him to bed because I wanted a child, and now we have one.
    Nevertheless, I don’t pull my hand away. Juba isn’t my beloved, but what I remember of our night together is a pleasant memory and I have no urge to spurn him. Below us, big sweating oxen haul wood to the lighthouse to keep the fire fueled so that sailors don’t lose their way. Above us, in the tower, the fire burns so hot it warms our backs, and we are silent together, bathed in that fire’s light.
    When the king finally speaks, he raises his voice to be heard over the crash of ocean waves, which churn into white foam on the dark stones beneath. “Your hands are so cold, Selene.”
    “I only fear—”
    “I know what you fear, but the snake charmer was no threat from the emperor. It was only a tribesman from the Atlas Mountains, come to entertain his king and queen. No one thought better of it.” My hesitation must tell him that I’m not convinced. “It was no warning. If the emperor is displeased that we have a son together, he’s shown no sign of it in his dispatches to me.”
    “But has he sent felicitations? No. If Augustus were pleased, he’d have said something by now. I know him. We both know him. The emperor is often silent when he is most enraged.”
    Then again, Augustus is a new man since returning from Greece, having recovered battle standards from the Parthians without even taking the battlefield. He believes himself a peacemaker now; perhaps he’s too exalted to feel jealousy over a discarded lover. Perhaps he’s finally tired of me. Perhaps I’m no more to him now than before I was born. That is what I wanted, isn’t it? I should be glad of it . . .
    The king strokes his thumb over mine as if to ease my anxiety. “Rome is far away, Selene. We have a daughter and a son—a son! We