EIGHTEEN

Gaia Alexandreia

Lokhi s Promontory

Kleopatra the Twenty-first greeted the young woman warmly in the sitting room of her private quarters. The queen's hair was shot with gray Page 180

and her eyes lackluster. The scar across her cheek, a badge of honor well-known throughout the Oikoumeni, appeared red and puffy. She looked exhausted.

The Kelt was not allowed into the private quarters. Rhita felt vaguely sorry for the man, always cooling his heels someplace away from his primary duty--protecting her.

"You were not treated well at the Mouseion," Kleopatra said, sitting across a transparent rose-veined quartz table from the young woman. "I ask your forgiveness and understanding."

Rhita nodded, not knowing what to say, thinking it best to let the queen speak. Kleopatra seemed agitated, ill at ease.

"Your request for an audience was expected, and welcome," she continued.

"I'm afraid your grandmother thought I lost faith in her." The queen smiled faintly. "Perhaps I did. It is easy to lose faith in a world of disappointments. But I never doubted her word. I needed to believe in what she said. Is that easy to understand?"

Rhita realized her silence might be interpreted as shock at being in the presence of royalty. Strangely, she was not nervous. "Yes. I understand."

"From what I've been told, you were not close to your grandmother, not all your life."

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"No, my Queen."

Kleopatra waved away the formality, fixing her tired eyes on Rhita.

"She chose you for something?"

"Yes."

"What?" The queen's hand gestured for her to be more forthcoming, as if urging her closer.