The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(88)

“A boat, Your Highness,” I said, perching anxiously on the edge of a carved ebony chair. “That’s all. Just a boat to get us across the lake unnoticed.”

“A stealthy attack?” the queen said, leaning forward on her couch and swinging her sandaled feet back down to the floor. “But there are only three of you.”

“There are more of us, inside the ludus.” I told her of the gladiatix sisters I’d left behind. And of the Amazons that Charon had “sold” to the ludus. “All we have to do is get to them and set them free.”

“That sounds exciting!” Cleopatra’s wide dark eyes glittered dangerously. “Of course you can have the use of my boats. Take my barge if you’d like. And my men—there aren’t many of them, and they’re mostly fat and lazy like Sennefer here.” She waved a hand at her eunuch bodyguard. “But I approve in Caesar’s name of this adventure.”

“Well . . . less an adventure, perhaps, than a dangerous folly,” I allowed.

“Perhaps I shall come with you—”

“Absolutely not!” the eunuch erupted in argument, his face going purple.

Cleopatra rolled her eyes. “Sennefer has no sense of adventure.”

Perhaps not, I thought, but I was glad of it. While I suspected—from what I’d heard from several sources, including Caesar himself—that Cleopatra was likely more than capable of killing an enemy with poison or an unexpected knife in the back at a dinner party, I had no relish of the prospect of utilizing her lethal charms that night. What was to come would be chaotic and dangerous . . . and dirty. Quite frankly, if I could have killed Nyx without having to look her in the eyes first, I would take that opportunity, because I knew that, under the same circumstances, she certainly wouldn’t do me the courtesy of a tap on the shoulder first.

But that was my business. Not the queen’s.

At any rate, Cleopatra relented almost immediately with a shrug.

“He does, however,” she continued, “have a point. I am the daughter of the gods and, as such, should probably leave such robust bloodshed to you who are trained in those arts.”

I bowed low and stood, so that we could be on our way swiftly.

“Wait.” Cleopatra stopped me before I could leave. “You’re not planning on going out dressed like that, are you?”

“Uh . . .” I looked down at the plain linen tunic and sandals I wore. “I gave my armor to Sorcha so she could fight in my place.”

“Well.” The queen wrinkled her nose. “That will never do. Sennefer, fetch.”

Sennefer rolled his eyes, but seemed to know what his mistress was talking of, even if I didn’t. He left the room by a side door painted with scenes of a royal hunting party. The wooden trunk with which he returned, when he opened it at my feet, was full of a sight to make my warrior’s heart soar with longing and delight.

Armor. Glorious armor. Fit for a queen. Or a Cantii princess.

“I have, on occasion, bestowed gifts on your sister,” Cleopatra said, clearly delighted by my reaction. “But this time, I have something for you, Fallon ferch Virico. It was to be a gift—for your first arena fight under the Nova Ludus Achillea banner. Which, I suppose, technically this is. Or will be—if you win. So please do. I hate wasting presents.”

As Cai and Quint helped buckle me into the new gear, Cleopatra had one more gift for me.

“Truly, I am sorry that you and my dear Sorcha have found yourselves entangled in the webs woven to ensare Caesar,” she said, as she rose and walked over to a coffer-like jewelry box resting on a table in a corner of the room. It was almost as big as the trunk in my cell at the ludus—the one that held everything I owned of value. “And I know,” she continued, “that were he here, my lord would be both proud and grateful to you, Fallon. Since he is not here, allow me to act in his stead.” She rummaged for a moment, and emerged with a silver and faience pendant—the elegant head of a lioness. “This,” she said, smiling, “is Sekhemet. One of my goddesses, and much like—if I understand what your sister has told me—your own goddess, the Morrigan.”

The queen fastened the necklace around my neck, and I could feel the cool silver warming almost instantly against my skin as I tucked it beneath my new armor.

“She was an adversary to Anubis, who is akin to Dis,” she continued. “She is wise and loving and tender . . . and merciless.”

I looked into Cleopatra’s eyes and saw a dark, implacable glint in her gaze.

“Now,” she said with a terrifying smile, “go get the bastards.”

? ? ?

Sennefer escorted us down to the lake dock.

“You cannot have her barge,” he said.

“I don’t need the barge,” I agreed.

“And you cannot have her soldiers.”

“I don’t want her soldiers.”

“Good.” He stopped abruptly and looked at me, his expression grave. “The queen has not thought of it this way,” he said, “but she is in danger as grave as any you face. And from the same men. They hide in shadows, pray to dark gods for power, whisper and scheme in the halls of the politicians, and use the mob’s thirst for the gladiators against their masters . . . and all of it for a single purpose. To throw down Caesar. This you already know. But if they succeed, if the great general topples from that lofty height, then Cleopatra will have no friend here in the land of the Romans. They hate women. They hate powerful women. They hate her, most of all.”