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

rule over this kingdom and have nothing to fear here.”
    That is nonsense and he knows it; or at least, he should know it, so I don’t dignify it with an argument. “Would you have really flogged someone for my sake?”
    His brow furrows beneath his gold crown. “You make the mistake of thinking that because I dislike violence, I’m not capable of it. I can and will protect our kingdom and you.”
    Against everything and everyone but the emperor, he means.
    I have forgiven Juba for the part he played in driving my parents to suicide. But it is difficult to know that he would do it all again. He would do anything for the emperor and give anything to the emperor—even me. And yet, the only way we can live together as man and wife is if we never discuss all the ways we have wronged each other. So I press my lips together and say nothing to contradict him.
    Instead, my eyes drift to my city below, and the wall we’re building to defend it. Green palm trees and flat-roofed clay houses can be seen in miniature, tiny people swarming through the grid of streets, some of them hurrying in and out of our public baths. From this height, our fine royal capital looks fragile, as if it could be smashed beneath a soldier’s boot. But we’ve built Iol-Caesaria strong, stone by stone. It is my fortress against the emperor. Augustus has sworn never to set foot here and I pray it is one vow he will keep.
    * * *
    IN the morning an imperial flagship bears down on our harbor. Its red and gold banners lead our spotters to believe the vessel belongs to Rome’s most formidable military leader, the emperor’s son-in-law, Agrippa. My nerves are still raw from yesterday’s encounter with the snakes. Now Admiral Agrippa’s ship is on our coast and I can think of no good reason for it.
    Perhaps the snakes were a warning after all.
    I hurry to find the king. He is already at the gate, ready to mount his horse, and I call after him, “Did you know Agrippa was coming? Did he send a herald ahead of him?”
    Juba doesn’t share my distress; or at least, if he does, he hides it well. “No. Perhaps he means his visit to be a pleasant surprise.”
    I doubt this very much. The admiral, whose warships sent my mother’s fleet and all her dreams to the bottom of the sea, often surprises, but never pleasantly. He loathed my mother as a wicked seductress and he loathes me too because he believes the same of me. Agrippa is not a man to take respite on my balmy shores; he would never come here except on official business.
    Perhaps the emperor has sent him to punish us. Then a worse thought occurs to me. Once, when the emperor fell ill, he gave Agrippa his signet ring and named him successor. What if the emperor has finally been bested by one of his many ailments? What if the emperor is dead and Agrippa is now master of Rome?
    If so, he has come either to secure our fealty or to invade our shores. He would need no army to conquer us. More than half our soldiers are Roman and would heed his commands before ours. We may rule here, Juba and I, but we’re still subjects of the empire. So if Agrippa has come to strip us of our thrones—or even our lives—there’s little to be done about it now. There are precious few places in the world that anyone can run for safety from Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.
    Seeking calm, I remind myself yet again that I am my own safe harbor. I’ve learned to harness the heka that swirls in my blood—the ancient Egyptian magic that is my birthright. I’ve used the winds that answer my fingertips to defend myself before; I can do it now. “How shall we greet Agrippa?”
    “I’ve ordered ready a feast of welcome,” my husband says. “There’s no time to assemble a royal procession. We’ll eschew formality and greet him as a friend.”
    In this, I follow Juba’s lead. He knows Agrippa well; he’s served with him both in military campaigns and in the administration of Spain. With shaky fingers, I remove my royal diadem, the