The Princess Of Egypt Must Die

such thoughts because I fear ambition goes hand in hand with cruelty.

  "No?" Cassander asks. "What else does a queen dream of?"

  On my wedding night, I dreamed of Cassander.

  In the journey across the sea, I dreamed of Cassander.

  I have dreamed of Cassander every night since he rescued me from the hippo.

  I can't tell him this. I'm married. I'm his father's wife. I'm his queen. Even if none of that were true, I wouldn't be brave enough to speak my feelings aloud. Nonetheless, the words lodge themselves painfully in my throat.

  And I can say nothing at all.

  "Did you have sisters in Egypt?" Bunny asks. She is always at my side now. She's a clever girl for her age, quick at games and funny, too. I think this must be why she is her father's favorite.

  "Yes, I had a sister," I say, remembering Lysandra.

  "Do you miss her?"

  I don't know how to answer. My life is easier now without Lysandra to taunt me. And yet, there is an emptiness in my life where my hopes for Lysandra used to be. I want so badly to make new hopes that will fill that space. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because you seem so lonely," Bunny replies. "If I were Queen of Thrace, I'd have a wonderful time. I'd order everyone to do my bidding. I'd wear sparkling jewels. I'd visit all my lands—you do have lands, don't you?"

  I nod. Part of the betrothal arrangement provided that I should own lands surrounding the city of Ephesus. I'm eager to ride out to see them, and not only because I will see Cassander in the stables before mounting my horse.

  "Anyway," Bunny continues. "I thought maybe I can be your sister here." Her upturned nose twitches in delight. "Yes, sisters. We'll watch out for one another and keep each other's secrets. That's what sisters do, isn't it?"

  "I'd like that," I say, daring to hope…

  "I have a secret. Of course, it isn't really mine."

  "Whose, then?"

  "My brother's. Prince Agathocles. He fears he offended you at the banquet and that you'll never forgive him."

  Did the Prince send his little sister to tell me this? Since the banquet, I've pretended that Prince Agathocles never said those reckless things. I'm always polite when we pass one another in the corridors. I never speak against him; I didn't tell the king. I didn't even confide in Cassander. "I'm sure anything the prince said that night was said in jest."

  "Everyone loves my brother, you know. He cannot bear to think anyone dislikes him. It pains him like a thorn in the paw of a lion. He won't be able to sleep until it is plucked out. Will you forgive him?"

  Never in my life has anyone asked forgiveness for offending me. Back in Egypt, I imagined that one day Lysandra would beg my forgiveness. And that I'd give it to her. Since that may never happen now, I want to forgive Agathocles, in her place. "Of course."

  "He'll be so pleased. I'll tell him you'll meet him in the garden beneath the mulberry tree!"

  Bunny throws her arms around me then runs off.

  When we meet beneath the mulberry tree, Prince Agathocles is humble, his head lowered in deference. I don't know why Bunny chose the garden. There's little privacy here. A hundred servants and soldiers pass by, but at least they can't hear our words unless they strain to hear.

  "I fear that I've made your first days here in Thrace uncomfortable," Prince Agathocles is saying. "It was never my intention. I was drunk and can't even remember most of what I said. But I am sorry."

  "I forgive you," I say, and feel quite wonderful as the words come out.

  He gives a grateful smile. "Would you tell me, Queen Arsinoë, what exactly it is that I said?"

  "I'd rather we forgot it entirely."

  "It's only that I worry—" he cuts off, as if embarrassed but no blush stains his cheeks. "I fear you'll break my heart."

  Something twists in my belly.

  "You see, I love you," he continues.

  I don't believe him. He's teasing me. And I hate that the first time I ever hear a man say this to me, it's in jest. In Egypt, many boys professed their love for Lysandra. She knew how to turn them away, to laugh at their flattery as if it were nothing. But I don't know what to do. I feel like a fish on a hook. I'm gasping like one too.

  Seeing my panic, Prince Agathocles hastens to add, "But it's a chaste love."

  Too late. He has me confused. Rattled. I lift my skirts and turn to run.

  Prince Agathocles chases after me, calling, "I want only your friendship, Arsinoë! Nothing more."

  As he chases me, we draw stares from the gardeners who snip at sprigs of rosemary. The guards at the palace doors turn their eyes our way, too. I'm too embarrassed to even look at him when he catches up. "Just let me go, Prince Agathocles."

  "I've offended you again," he says with a dramatic sigh. "I've made things terrible for you here, and all when I know you were fearful to come to Thrace."

  "Who told you I was fearful?" I ask, still hurrying away from him.

  "My bastard brother," Prince Agathocles says. "Cassander speaks very highly of you."

  Just the mention of Cassander's name stops me in my tracks. "W-what does he say about me?"

  Prince Agathocles raises one eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

  I hear myself swallow. I blush. The heat of it sweeps over me.

  Watching my face, Prince Agathocles gives a little start. Then something turns behind his eyes. "Are you fond of Cassander?" When I don't answer, he says, "He knows how to behave himself better than I do, surely."

  It hurts me to lie, but I must. "I'm no fonder of him than any boy. It's only that he saved me once, in Egypt. I owe him a debt of gratitude."

  After a long pause, the prince says, "Arsinoë, I've made a mess of things. Let me make it up to you. If you find Cassander good company, I'll arrange to have him chaperone you on a tour of your lands."

  I've never heard of a stable boy like Cassander serving as a chaperone to a queen, not even if he is of royal blood. But perhaps things are done differently in Thrace. Or perhaps I do not question it because I'm simply too eager to see Cassander again.

  Agathocles is good to his word. He arranges for Cassander to accompany me on my rides. All I must do is wait until the king is busy with envoys and dismisses me. Then I'm free to slip away from the harem and visit the stables.

  When I go, Styx is always pleased to see me, her tail high. Adorned with my royal livery, a bridle ornamented with golden lions fit over her face, she preens. I think Cassander is pleased to see me too, though it's more difficult to tell. A horse can show disrespect to a king or queen; a servant must always behave as if he's honored by one's royal presence.

  Cassander makes a good choice for a guide, though. He knows the roads, the streams and the mountain passes of Thrace. He points out the plants I don't know and tells me about the different Thracian tribes. And though we always ride out with an accompaniment of the king's soldiers, we sometimes forget they are there.

  I'm now glad that my father insisted I copy the writing's of Plato because Cassander knows them too. We debate the nature of the soul. Plato thinks a soul is made up of appetite, reason and spirit. I agree, saying it explains why people are torn between what they want and what they should want. Cassander scoffs. He says that everyone assumes their soul is ruled by an enlightened spirit and that everyone else’s soul is ruled by animal desires.

  We talk about Egypt, and I even confess my dream that one day I would become Pharaoh. Cassander doesn't laugh at me and that makes me like him even more.

  When we reach one of my estates, Styx breaks into a gallop over the field. I let her run. Cassander gives chase on his own brown stallion. The hooves of our horses crash against the ground even as my heartbeat pounds inside my own breast. I feel giddy as we ride and delighted when we stop in an orchard. Cassander and I pluck apples from the trees, and we're both breathless and laughing.

  "That's my favorite sound," Cassander says, biting a juicy chunk from the fruit.

  I listen, but hear only the wind, the chirp of a bird.
"What sound?"

  "Your laughter," he replies.

  I blush hotly. With Cassander I'm always blushing.

  "He's very handsome isn't he?" Bunny asks one night when she finishes teaching me a Thracian dance.

  "Hmm?"

  "Cassander. He's a stable boy now, but one day soon he will join my father's cavalry. He'll make a fine warrior, don't you think? And if he fights well, the king may grant him lands and a wife."

  A wife. The thought of some girl in Cassander's arms is so horrible that I close my eyes.

  "It's better if he marries," Bunny chatters on, oblivious to my distress. "I think it will ease his pains."

  "His pains?" I ask, instantly alert.

  "Surely you've noticed that Cassander is sick with love. He sighs dreamily. He doesn't eat with the rest of the lads. And whenever anyone asks him if there's a girl he fancies, he stammers and stares at his feet."

  My breath seems to catch in my throat. "I didn't know."

  "He's not likely to show it before his father’s queen. But I hope the girl he loves is suitable. As the king's bastard, he must choose wisely. If he fell in love with the wrong girl..."

  "What?" I ask, still breathless. "What would happen?"

  She motions over her throat with one finger. "If the girl is unsuitable, she'll lose her head and Cassander will be strangled."

  "Oh!" I clap my hand over my mouth. It's too terrible to contemplate.

  Bunny continues. "If he's in love with a shepherd's daughter, that poses no threat. But if he fell in love with a noblewoman...people would think he intended to make a play for the throne."

  These are the kinds of things my mother