"Why should I not kill you! You tell me!" came the seething voice in her ear.
The hand suddenly let her go. Gasping, she fell forward over the dressing table.
"Ramses!" she screamed, the breath rushing out of her. "Ramses!"
The door of the powder room opened; two women stopped dead in their confusion. Beside her, Cleopatra rose from the table and plunged past them, knocking one of them to the side. In a flurry of streaming black hair and shimmering silver cloth she vanished.
Julie fell sobbing to the floor.
People shouting; hurried footsteps. An old woman with soft wrinkled hands was helping her to her feet.
"Have to get to Ramses," she said. She struggled towards the door. The other women tried to stop her. She sh
ould sit down. "Someone get a glass of water!" "No, let me go!"
Finally she reached the door, and forced her way through it, through the small knot of ushers gathered. Ramses came rushing towards her; she collapsed in his arms.
"She was there," she gasped in his ear. "She spoke to me. She touched me." She moved her hand to her aching throat. "She ran away when the others came in."
"What is it, miss?"
"Miss Stratford, what happened?"
"No, I'm all right now." He almost lifted her off her feet, and carried her away from them.
"Well, all I saw was another woman with her; yes, a tall woman, black hair."
Into the foyer of the box, he led her, a quiet private space. She tried to clear her vision; Elliott and Samir stood over her suddenly, and the music, the music was a ghastly din pouring through the curtains. Samir filled a glass with champagne for her. How absurd! Champagne.
"Here in the auditorium somewhere. Dear God, she was like a terrible angel! A goddess! Ramses, she knew me, my name. She knew me. She spoke of vengeance for Antony. Ramses, she knew who I was!"
His face was a mask of rage. He started for the door. She grabbed hold of him, knocking the champagne glass over. "No, don't go! Don't leave my side!" she whispered. "She could have killed me. She wanted to. But then she couldn't. Ramses! She's a living, feeling creature! Oh, God, what have you done, what have I done!"
A bell had sounded within the auditorium. People were streaming out into the open spaces. And Alex would be searching for her; and perhaps he would find them.
She could not clear her head; she could not bring herself to move.
She stood on the high iron balcony, above the iron steps that descended to a dark, neglected alleyway, the door open to the lights and the noise to her right. The city was a haze of soft lamps and rooftops, of shining domes, and towers piercing the deep azure sky. She could not see the Nile from here, but it didn't matter. The air was cool and sweet; full of the scent of the green trees below.
Suddenly, she heard his voice:
"Your Highness, I've been searching for you everywhere."
"Hold me, Alex," she whispered. "Hold me in your arms." She took a deep breath as she felt him close to her, his warm hands on her. Gently he moved her back to sit on the iron steps that went upward to yet another balcony above.
"You're ill," he said. "I must get something for you to drink."
"No, stay close to me," she said. She knew her voice was barely audible. She stared out at the lights of the city almost desperately. She wanted somehow to cling to this vision of the modern city; to move towards it mentally out of her anguish. It was her only escape. That and the boy beside her, the clean innocent male thing that held her and kissed her.
"What do I do?" she murmured in the old Latin. "Is it grief I feel, or rage? I only know it's suffering."
She was torturing him, but she didn't mean to. Had he understood her words?
"Open your heart to me," he said earnestly. "I love you, Your Highness. Tell me what's troubling you. I won't let anything hurt you. If it's in my power to stop it, I shall."
"I believe you, young lord," she said. "I feel love for you too."
But what was it she wanted? Would revenge cure the rage that was tearing her apart? Or should she retreat now, taking young Lord Alex with her, and move as far away from her mentor, her creator, as she could? It seemed for one moment the ache in her would consume everything--thought, hope, will. But then she realized something and it was like the sun again, the warm sun.