Selene’s eyes flashed with hurt. “Why not?”
“Well, you did just sneak away, against my orders, trying to spy on us,” Caesarion said, trying to sound stern. “That doesn’t make you quite trustworthy, does it?”
Selene started to say something in anger, then caught herself and clenched her jaw on the emotion.
“Caesarion is right,” Didymus said. “We must have secrecy over what we discuss here.”
“I can be trusted,” Selene said, her hurt feelings just barely straining her voice. “Just no one’s ever let me prove it.”
Caesarion knew she was right. As Khenti said: it was past time that she understood the dangers she faced. But, even so, could she be trusted? Especially after today?
“Besides,” she said, looking down at her dress and smoothing it with her hands, “I’ve never told anyone what I know about you.”
“About me?” Caesarion asked, surprised.
“No,” Selene said. Her voice was quiet and eyes still downcast. “About Didymus. About back in Rome.”
Didymus crumpled down into his chair, a look on his face as if he’d been kicked in the gut.
After a few moments of silence, Caesarion managed to gasp out, “How—?”
“I heard it. With Didymus and that man. I didn’t hear much, but I heard that. I’ve known, and I didn’t tell.”
“Oh, Selene,” Didymus said. “I don’t know what to say.”
When Selene at last looked up at him, her eyes were wet but her face stoic. “There’s nothing to say. It can’t be changed. And it doesn’t matter now: you refused to betray us again.” She took a deep breath, turned her bright eyes to Caesarion. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even Helios. I can be trusted.”
Caesarion was uncertain what more he could say. He looked over to Didymus for a sign, but the Greek scholar’s face was sunken, as if he’d fallen back into himself. “I’m sorry we never told you,” he finally said.
“I understand why, though,” Selene said. “I just … I think I’m old enough now.”
“You are,” Caesarion agreed, hoping it was true. He sat down, letting out a long sigh as he did so. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts. Then, realizing there was no easy way to begin, he laid out the facts: “The news from the north, as I was telling Didymus, is dire. Our army has been trapped by Octavian at a place called Actium, in Greece, with no clear way out. Our men are starving to death, riddled by disease, and defecting to Rome in large numbers. It’s probably only a matter of time until they’re defeated.”
Whatever smile of success Selene had upon her face went out like a light, and for a few seconds she blinked too often as Caesarion watched her. Quickly, though, her face moved to a stoic impassivity, just as their mother had taught them to do in times of emotion. Gods and goddesses weren’t meant to feel emotion, after all. It wouldn’t do for the public image. “Surely my father—” she started to say.
Caesarion shook his head. “Not this time.”
The girl swallowed hard, gave the slightest nod. “And what now?”
Caesarion started to say something, then decided against it. What to tell her? That Antony and Cleopatra, if they lived, would probably be captured, paraded through Rome in a Triumph? And if not captured, pursued home in frightful defeat to await their doom here? Caesarion knew that he himself would be a dead man if he fell into Octavian’s arms—as Caesar’s blood child he was, after all, the greatest threat to Octavian’s ambitions—but what would await Antony’s children? Would they die, too? Or would Octavian marry them into his family, subsuming the threat? To whom would Selene go? Who would claim this beautiful little girl, raping her in a victory bed that was too terrible for Caesarion to imagine?
“We don’t know,” Didymus said, breaking Caesarion’s dark thoughts with a weak but steady voice. “Peace with Octavian? More war? We don’t know. We need to be prepared for anything.”
Selene nodded, her jaw clenching again despite her stoic face. For a long minute no one spoke, and her gaze seemed to be far away. “It must be kept quiet,” she said at last, talking to no one in particular.
“Yes,” Caesarion said. “We cannot have panic. Even if they are defeated—today? tomorrow? we don’t know when—we’ll send word to the citizens of victory. There will be rumors—we can’t prevent that—but it will buy us some time. Meanwhile I’m redoubling the work on the walls and defenses.” He sighed. “It’s all we can do right now.”
Didymus agreed, seeming to recover his wits. “Anything more would look like desperation, which you cannot afford.”
“But this isn’t why you’re here,” Selene said to Caesarion. “It was Didymus who called you with news, wasn’t it?”
Didymus smiled grimly. “You always were clever,” he said.
“Too clever sometimes,” Caesarion said, trying his best to smile, too. “I believe Didymus had some news for us, too. News from his latest travels?” He tilted his head toward their Greek teacher, giving him permission to speak freely.
“Of course,” Didymus said, but he then appeared unsure where to begin.
“The man sent after Didymus a year ago had a letter from Rome,” Caesarion started, noticing but ignoring Selene’s shiver at the memory of that night. “Only it wasn’t from Octavian. It was from a man named Juba, a Numidian adopted into Caesar’s own family. He wanted Didymus to give him the Scrolls of Thoth.”
“Scrolls of Thoth?”
“Yes,” Didymus said, his voice sounding stronger as he entered the conversation on familiar turf. “A legendary book of the god Thoth, into which he poured the knowledge and power of the gods themselves. It doesn’t exist.”
Caesarion raised an eyebrow, uncertain if he felt relief or not. “Oh? You know this for a fact now?”
Didymus nodded, but his eyes were troubled. “Well, it doesn’t exist in the way Juba is thinking. Not on earth, anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” Caesarion said.
“Nor do I,” Selene agreed.
“Well, it’s … complicated,” Didymus said. “I don’t really understand it all myself. Not the way I’d like to. But I’ll explain what I can, as I can. And I’ve asked another scholar to come to the Library this morning to join us. I think he’ll be able to shed some, ah, unique light on the facts of the matter. He actually should have been here by now. He’s coming from the Jewish Quarter.”
Selene took in her breath abruptly. “Oh,” she said. “I think I met him.”
“Really?” The Greek scholar looked surprised. “He’s here?”
Caesarion, shaking away the urge to wonder at how his half-sister had come to know an important Jewish scholar, rose and went to the door, opening it quietly. Khenti melted out of the shadows in response. Caesarion kept his voice low out of instinct. “There’s a Jewish scholar in the Library,” he said. “He’s supposed to come see Didymus.”
“Yes. He came with young Selene, my lord.”
He really needed to find out how that happened. She was indeed full of surprises today. “Can you see that he comes to join us?”
“At once, sir,” Khenti said, bowing before he strode quickly down the hall.
Caesarion shut the door, turned back to the room. Selene, he noticed, seemed to be blushing slightly. “So you came to the Library with this scholar?”
The girl’s face reddened a bit more. “I met him outside,” she said. “He said he was coming here, and so we came in together.”
“Begging your pardon, lady Selene,” Didymus said, “but you need to be wary of the company you keep beyond the palace.”
Selene huffed and rolled her eyes. “I was fine. He reminded me of you,” she said, looking over to Caesarion.
Confusion spread on Didymus’ face, gradually twisting into a look of fright. “He looked like Caesarion? That’s not—”
Khenti’s knock at the door cut off the scholar, who froze, half-leaned over his desk, staring at Caesarion with concern. Selene just appeared flushed.