He knew better than to trust her. He’d searched the city for her to no avail the moment he realized she was gone, and when he saw the posters announcing the venatio, he knew where he would find her.

Help me, she’d said, and he’d felt so guilty there in the hold of the ship, his hand on her empty heart, that he had helped her into Rome, telling himself that if he found her children, she would be satisfied. Telling himself that she was only a woman, a mother, that she could be talked out of vengeance.

He was a fool. Sekhmet controlled her.

His quest through Virgil’s library had unearthed little of use, though he’d read for hours about immortal battles, about immortal monsters. Eternal life might sometimes be relinquished, but this was a dispensation given only by the gods. There were no stories of mortals working such spells. Immortals might kill other immortals in certain circumstances, but that was not helpful either.

Nicolaus was helpless, and he knew the queen suspected as much. He’d thought, in the ship, that she desired separation from the goddess, but now he wondered if she had simply used him to smuggle herself easily into Rome.

The entire city was in or outside the Circus Maximus. It was a trap, he knew. There was no other explanation for the nighttime venatio, the display of the emperor and of Cleopatra’s children, the mention of Antony. They knew she was in Rome and meant to draw her out.

Nicolaus wavered, nauseated. Had he any sense at all, he’d flee this city.

He knew that she would not stop before she killed Augustus, and to kill the emperor, she would have to go through hundreds of people. If this was a planned event, a trap for the queen, Augustus would be guarded by the entire arena.

He saw the imperial procession, litters being carried down the Palatine on their way to the circus, directly in his path. The procession was surrounded by guards, and he shifted his course away from it, dashing in the opposite direction. Agrippa’s men were everywhere, some of them in civilian attire. He could tell the soldiers by their posture. All of them were on alert.

He slipped into the arena with a group of senators, their robes crisp and their bald heads shining. Once he was inside, he spun, searching the crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people were already in the stands, shouting and craning their necks, hoping for a glimpse of the animals. The arena floor was empty as the emperor entered high in the stands, being led to his private box. No sign of Cleopatra in the area surrounding Augustus, but her children were there, positioned around the emperor. Alexander sat on the emperor’s left, and Ptolemy in his lap. They were decked in golden headdresses, their faces painted as young kings of Egypt.

Selene sat in front of Augustus, her eyes lined with kohl, but a tiara of gilded laurel on her head, the better to emphasize her allegiance to Rome. Nicolaus shook his head miserably. Their costumes would only incite Cleopatra more.

Where could she be?

He heard muffled roars from beneath the ground, the tunnels under the circus.

With a sinking heart, he realized. He would never get to her in time.

She was chained, her leg secured to another lion with iron. This was how the bestiarii were given a chance to win over the animals. Otherwise, the games would have been over too quickly, the human combatants left ruined on the circus floor, and the animals rampaging in bewilderment and terror. She could smell the fear of the bestiarii, and taste their histories.

They were convicts, but many of them were not criminals. They had just happened upon legionaries at the wrong moments and been accused of crimes they had not committed. One of the newly crowned bestiarii was the father of a beautiful daughter, who was a virgin no longer. Now the father was guilty of assault, having tried to beat back the Roman who’d sought her favors. Another of the bestiarii had owned a gilded shield that had been desired by a centurion. Now the man was a convicted thief.

These were not fighters by trade. They had once been Egyptians, and Cleopatra had once been their queen. She tried not to think about them, their souls, their pains. They did not matter. They could not. She was here for a reason, and in order to get close to the emperor, she must kill them in battle.

She would do so if it meant she could get close to the emperor. She could smell his absence, the gray nothing of his soul, high up in the stands. She thought of his throat, the pale skin, the veins pulsing beneath it. She thought of his head crowned with laurels. She would tear into him. She would uncrown him. She thought of his heart, or what passed for a heart. What would it taste like? Dust. Stones.

Her teeth grew sharper in her mouth, and her breath quickened. She looked up into the torchlight and saw thousands of faces glowing with anticipation.

Waiting for her.