The Princess Of Egypt Must Die

anymore. "I love you."

  He smiles. It's a beautiful, dazzling smile. "Will you say it again? I think it has become my new favorite sound."

  "I love you, Cassander. I love you."

  Nothing in my life has ever been so easy to say.

  And once I've said it, we are so happy. We stand there, staring at one another with foolish grins upon our faces. We are still standing like that, moments later, when the king's soldiers burst into the garden and arrest us.

  I'm brought before King Lysimachus. His deranged dog takes my place on the throne, barking madly. In only my dressing gown, I'm utterly shamed before the court. I'm accused of unspeakable crimes. And I cannot stop trembling for my fear—and my anger.

  All my life I've been someone's victim. Bullied by Lysandra in Egypt. And now, betrayed, most cruelly, by the girl who called herself my sister in Thrace.

  I should never have called her Bunny.

  I should have remembered that her real name was Eurydice.

  I should have seen her as a rival.

  "I carried notes for Cassander," she confesses to her father, big crocodile tears in her eyes. "But only because he swore to me they were innocent. I didn't know any better, Father. The moment I realized the queen meant to betray you, I told the guards everything I knew."

  The king turns cold eyes to me. "How will you defend yourself, Arsinoë?"

  Lifting my chin, I say, "I've done nothing."

  The king roars. "Nothing! You stand before me having been caught in the night with another man and you call that nothing?"

  Not another man, I think. His son. Cassander is his son, I remember. Surely that must count for something. "We only clasped hands in farewell," I say, choosing my words carefully. If I want Cassander to live until morning, I must use my wits. "We clasped hands. Nothing more. Not tonight. Not ever."

  "You cannot trust her," Prince Agathocles says. "She's an immoral girl."

  King Lysimachus snaps his fingers, warning the prince. "She's still your queen."

  "She was my queen when she professed love for me at your welcome banquet," Prince Agathocles says.

  My mouth falls open in horror and my stomach cramps sharply, as if I've taken a blow.

  "And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" King Lysimachus snarls.

  "You seemed so happy to bring home your new bride," Agathocles says. "I thought she was young and naive. I didn't want to believe she was wicked."

  In Egypt I never learned to defend myself. I hope it's not too late to learn now. "He's lying."

  "Oh, but there's more," Prince Agathocles says. "A few days later, your queen asked me to meet her beneath the mulberry tree—yes, the very same tree under which she betrayed you tonight."

  "That's not true!" I cry.

  "Ask Bunny," Agathocles says. "Ask your guards and gardeners if you don't believe me. Some of them were witness to it. Your queen professed her love for me, and when I rebuffed her, she ran from me in anger. I called after her that I wanted only to be her friend."

  The blood drains from my face as I realize how expertly I've been maneuvered and manipulated by Prince Agathocles. The king's children planned it all from the start. Bunny called herself my sister, but she's his sister.

  And they both want me dead.

  I fall to my knees before King Lysimachus, reaching for his feet to plead for his mercy. When I do, the horrible dog snarls, lunges, then sinks its teeth into my arm. I wrench away, too late. Fangs have pierced the tender skin of my wrist and I'm bleeding. The courtiers all gasp; even though I am a queen near disgrace, they're horrified by the sight of the bright red blood that trickles down my hand.

  My blood fascinates me, however. The vibrant color. The sharp scent of it. It focuses my mind to perfect clarity. And I know what I must do.

  I must attack.

  "Your ambitions to take your father's throne don't deceive anyone," I say, pointing at Prince Agathocles with a bloody finger. "You wear expensive jewelry to remind all his lords that you outrank them. You lead the king's cavalry. You take it upon yourself to host in his banquet hall, welcoming his bride by saying she is only fit to give him comfort in his golden years. You said this to remind the lords of your father's age and to make them think you should take the throne from him."

  Another gasp comes from the crowd. My accusation seems to startle the prince, whose eyes widen. He is so startled that he cannot stop himself from self-consciously hiding his bejeweled fingers behind his back.

  "Now you drag your poor sister into it," I continue, glancing at Bunny—no, Princess Eurydice; I will never again forget her name. "You made her lie. You made her scheme. All in an effort to do away with me before I stopped you from stealing your father's throne."

  Before anyone can reply, I whip my head to face the king. My hair must be wild. My face must be pale. I cannot keep my lower lip from trembling. But I force myself to look into his hard eyes. "Prince Agathocles hatched a plan the moment we arrived in Thrace. He saw me and he was jealous of you. Ask yourself, would a loyal son wait all this time to tell you of an unfaithful wife? He waited until you sent midwives to me. He waited until the moment he was most afraid I would give you a better son."

  Prince Agathocles shouts an objection, but the king raises a hand to silence him. Then the king looks at me and his eyes narrow shrewdly. "Yet you were caught tonight in the garden with Cassander."

  I'm not guilty of what they accuse me. Still, I'm not innocent. It doesn't matter. To save Cassander's life, I'll say anything. I'll pretend anything. "I was lured there by the prince," I say.

  "Do you deny that you sent messages to Cassander?"

  "I wrote only once." This is actually the truth. "And I wrote nothing shameful. This I swear on the River Styx."

  I spend that night locked away. Under guard. The dog bite still seeps blood and throbs with pain. Yet, that's drowned out by the sound of my racing heart beat.

  I'm afraid for my life. I'm more afraid for Cassander.

  Why wasn't he dragged before the king as I was? What have they done with him and where is he now? I shuffle on the tile floor, back and forth, until I'm so tired and thirsty that I sink to my knees.

  In the morning, a servant dresses me in my finest garments. The expensive linen from Egypt. The pearls that were a gift at my wedding. The jeweled diadem for my hair. Whatever fate I meet today, I'll meet it in royal fashion.

  Led into the throne room, I see the court assembled. The king doesn't look at me. He is dressed formally, standing the way he does when he makes judgments. I'm the one to be judged. He'll pronounce me guilty or innocent.

  I'm so afraid that I must push hard on the floor to keep myself standing.

  King Lysimachus holds forth a scrap of paper and begins to read.

  I am the Queen of Thrace. I am married. You are my stepson. Even if you weren't, you are a bastard. You are a stable hand. To love you would be to bring dishonor upon the house of Lysimachus and to shame my father and Egypt besides. I will not do it. I will not meet you. The only favor I can bestow upon you is my silence. For your own sake, I implore you to burn this letter and never write to me again. — Queen Arsinoë

  It is the letter I wrote to Cassander. How horrible to hear my harsh words, spoken with the king's contempt. This letter absolves me but condemns Cassander. He should have burned this letter. He should have burned it! I glance at Princess Eurydice, wondering what trick this is. But the girl they call Bunny is dressed in a simple gown today, and she looks as surprised as I am. From his spot beside his sister, Prince Agathocles gapes, then snaps his mouth shut.

  My husband the king takes a long, shuddering breath then says, "This letter was found amongst Cassander's belongings. It's proof of Arsinoë's innocence. Proof of her virtue."

  I wilt with relief.

  Then the king says, "Let the stain and the sin fall upon Cassander. He's confessed to an intention to betray me by seducing my queen. Tomorrow he'll be put to death."

  Now I fear I will
faint dead away. No! How could Cassander confess to such a thing? And why should he pay for it with his life? "But—but he is your son. Cassander is your son!"

  "My bastard," the king says, letting his eyes fall upon Prince Agathocles. "And let Cassander's death be a warning to all my sons."

  The sentence having been pronounced, the court files out. King Lysimachus and I are left alone in the throne room, burning oil lamps throwing ghostly shadows on the walls.

  "Come, take your throne," the king says.

  I'm shaking all over. I don't think I can walk. But I must convince him, somehow, to change his mind about Cassander. Tentatively I sit beside him, cradling my wounded wrist in my lap.

  "Do you know why I spared you, Arsinoë?" King Lysimachus asks.

  "The letter," I say.

  "That was only a convenient excuse."

  Such hatred is burning in my belly that I dare to ask, "Then why did you spare me? Because my father is the Pharaoh of Egypt?"

  "That is the main reason," the king admits. He does not want to cause a war with my father, so he will not kill me. It's an advantage I will not forget again. "But there's one more reason."

  "What is it?"

  "I spared you because you worry Prince Agathocles," the king says merrily. "So long as you're my wife, he'll plot against you. And better you than me."

  It's clear to me now. My husband is happy that I lashed out at those who might harm him. He wants me to become like his horrible dog.

  I plead with him. "But Cassander isn't a threat to anyone. Please, have mercy—"

  "Cassander