But he knew they couldn’t take that chance. Instead of chastising her and reminding her once again of the need for secrecy, he simply searched her belongings after she died each time, always knowing exactly what he would find.
Holding the fragile paper in his palm, Ahmose uttered a few low words and the paper burst into flame. Dropping it to the stone floor, he watched it until it had turned completely to ashes, turning a spot on the floor black. The Roman guards could think what they may. It was no longer of concern to him.
For now, he was content to allow her this one breach, this one slip of decorum. In every life, she earned it. Standing to his full height, the ancient Aegis disappeared, leaving only the scent of incense behind.
The End
To learn more about Gavin and Macy, please read Fated
Book Two of the Bloodstone Saga
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Cleopatra has been the subject of speculation for over two thousand years. Her character, her loves, her personality, her appearance… we don’t really know a lot about her. It is true, that after her death, Gaius Julius Caesar (Octavian) ordered all likenesses of her destroyed. So, we don’t know what she truly looked like, although all indications point toward the probability that she was actually Greek and not Egyptian. Her intelligence speaks for itself. She was able to rule Egypt alone and command Egyptian military fleets. It is also written that she spoke anywhere from 6 to 9 languages. That is a clear indication that she was educated and intelligent.
Her charm is also legendary. So I choose to believe that she was beautiful and that is the lens that I wrote her in. To me, beauty just seems to go hand-in-hand with enchanting charm. Some have speculated that her affection for Marc Antony has been overstated over the years, that their relationship was merely one of political ambition. I don’t want to believe that, so I choose not to. I choose to believe that Cleopatra and Marc Antony’s relationship was a love story of epic magnitude, tragic and beautiful.
Pothinus was a real person. He was the regent for Cleopatra’s younger brother, Ptolemy VIII, and was in fact, a eunuch. He was decapitated at Julius Caesar’s orders in approximately 47 or 48 BC. It has been noted that he was quite power hungry so I took literary license and made him a villain in my story. His servant, Tehran, is entirely fictional.
Not much is known about Charmian, except for the fact that both she and Iras were trusted confidantes who killed themselves with Cleopatra. Charmian was adjusting Cleopatra’s diadem when Roman soldiers broke into the mausoleum and she died at their feet. Obviously, with so few facts to rely on, I have taken a great deal of literary license with her character. Historical records have indicated that Charmian was fairly spunky, so that is how I imagine that she was , which is how I wrote her.
Marc Antony was jovial and handsome. It has been noted that he very much loved the attention of females and merry-making of almost every type. By all indications, he was an honorable man who was well-liked by almost all that knew him.
After Antony’s death, Octavian had Antony’s son by Fulvia, Marcus Antonius Antyllus, killed. His other children survived. Through his daughters by Octavia, Marc Antony would become the ancestor to the Roman Emperors Caligula, Claudius and Nero.
And Octavian, the man of many names. Gaius Julius Caesar was in reality, not a villain. He was simply a very ambitious man with large shoes to fill. After his adopted father, Julius Caesar, made him his heir, Octavian wanted power. And he worked very hard to methodically attain that power.
I wrote this book from the perspective of someone close to Cleopatra, so of course, it is written from the viewpoint that Octavian was a villain. But everything is a matter of perspective. By all reports, Octavian was a cold-blooded and matter-of-fact person. But he also eventually restored peace to Rome. After the deaths of Cleopatra and Antony, Rome entered a period of peace called the Pax Romana, which lasted for over two centuries.
Despite his rumored cold-blooded nature, Octavian allowed his sister (and Marc Antony’s ex-wife) Octavia to raise Cleopatra and Antony’s twins, Selene and Ptolemy. He also allowed Cleopatra and Antony to be entombed together. Their tomb has never been found.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Courtney Cole is a YA novelist who loves Lake Michigan but is terrified of buoys and sea gulls. That makes for some interesting days at the beach. She was born and raised in Kansas where it is too hot in the summer to do anything but read. So growing up, she read stacks and stacks of books. She learned from an early age that if she didn’t like an ending, she could just write her own. And that’s how she discovered that she was a writer.
She migrated from Kansas to northern Indiana, just a stone’s throw from Chicago and Lake Michigan. She lives in the suburbs with her real life Prince Charming, her ornery kids (there is a small chance that they get their orneriness from their mother) and small domestic zoo.
To learn more about Courtney and her books, visit her website at:
www.courtneycolewrites.com
Other books by Courtney Cole:
Fated (Book Two of the Bloodstone Saga)
Princess
Guardian
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my family and friends who regularly ask about my writing--- how it is going, what my characters are up to, etc. You’re my sounding boards and my cheerleaders. You help make my writing life real- and I love you for it.
To my mom: Thank you for being concerned enough about my soul to request that I clarify that I don’t personally believe in reincarnation or foreign/ancient gods. I don’t. But I do find ancient myths and cultures fascinating and I have the utmost respect for the religions and beliefs of others.
Lastly, I would like to thank the wonderful and amazing Christel Michiels for creating such beautiful cover art. You are brilliant and talented and very, very patient.
If you enjoyed “EVERY LAST KISS”, you might also enjoy “I WISH” by debut author Wren Emerson
Coming in May 2011 from Lakehouse Press
EXCERPT from Chapter One of I WISH
When a two hundred and fifty pound man takes a swing at your face, the last thing you want is to be blind. But that's exactly the predicament I found myself in while fighting Shep Claphan one September afternoon. I could hear voices murmuring around us, but I couldn't hear him. I knew less about Shep's past than I did about my own, but I always imagined him as a soldier or a stunt man or a martial arts expert. And he was attempting to kick my ass. Not exactly a challenge when you consider that I was 5'7" to his 6'4" and weighed half as much.
I didn't hear his foot lash out until it caught me in the stomach. It stung, but it was obvious since I was still standing that he pulled most of the power of that kick. What I did hear was the gasps of the people that surrounding us. I swung in the direction the kick had come from, but I didn't hit anything.
Chuckles from the peanut gallery.
He kicked the back of my leg, forcing me to take a knee.
Behind me.
I swept my leg along the ground, hoping to knock his feet out from under him, but he was too fast. I followed the movement into a standing position and punched in short efficient jabs. I was gratified to feel one land somewhere soft. It wasn't a solid connection and judging by the way it slid off his body, it was most likely his shoulder. At least now I had an idea of what his position was. I swung at him again, but missed by a mile, judging from the reactions of the people watching.
"I can see you. I can dodge you if I can see it coming. You can't see me so you don't have that advantage. You need to use whatever other information you can gather. Listen for my breathing. Hear the leaves and sticks being crushed under my feet. Smell me sweating if you have to. When I move in close your body knows it, it feels my heat and the air I disturb around you. Listen to what your body is telling you."
Shep's voice was normally a sound I enjoyed, the deep bass mellow and soothing and a perfect match to his barrel chested body, but right then I just wanted to slap him. He wouldn't end prac
tice until I managed at least a couple of good hits, but my past experiences with this had been less than impressive. I didn't expect much more from this one.
I tried to push back my irritation. His advice was sound even if the last thing I wanted to do right now was admit he was right. I took a deep breath and tried to narrow my focus. Shut out the whispers and giggles from the people around us. Shut out the aches from my muscles and the deep throbbing of forming bruises. Ignore it, it doesn't help me.
I didn't hear him move so much as I felt the way his shifting body crossed the sunlight on my face. When he swung at my face I was ready. I knew the direction he was coming from and I grabbed his arm and used it for balance as I kicked him twice in his ribs under the arm I held immobilized. Hearing his breath exhale with a sharp woofing sound was gratifying, but I didn't pause to celebrate the minor victory. I dropped his arm and danced backwards out of reach before he could grab me. I've been flipped by Shep before and it ranks high up on my list of things I'd rather avoid.
An advantage to my attack I hadn't anticipated was that his breathing was now audible to me. My next punch was a thing of beauty, connecting solidly with his jaw. I wasn't using full power either, but it had to have hurt him at least half as much as it killed my hand.
"Shep, your head feels like it's filled with rocks."
"You know, I've heard that from every woman in my life."
By now I was really in the moment. There's just no other excuse for the stupidity of my next idea. I ran towards Shep, jumping while still a few feet from him, planning to plant a foot in his chest and execute a neat back flip and while he was still awed by my finesse, I'd land a killing blow. If life were an action movie I would have been able to execute it flawlessly- probably in Matrix style slow motion. Real life rarely comes with slow-mo though and so this is how it really happened:
I ran at him and leaped, all according to plan. When I planted my foot in his chest, however, he grabbed it and gave it a vicious little twist. I landed face down in the dirt and breathing was suddenly a skill that needed relearning in a hurry.The only blessing was that the hilarity of the crowd watching us was somewhat muffled by my gasping.
Shep gave me a hand up and pulled off my blindfold. I still couldn't take a full breath so he waited patiently while I stood there, squinty eyed and wheezing.
Finally he said, "You shouldn't showboat. You could have finished me, I was hurting and you had the edge."
"You- are a-really- bad winner."
The friendly backrub eased my wounded pride a little. As he worked the knots from my tense shoulders I took a moment to check out the people who'd just watched my humiliating defeat. I could only hope that there weren't any cute boys around to witness my literal fall from grace. Lucky for me, it seemed that the only people at the Sunnydale Motor Court on a weekday afternoon in the fall were all either elderly or families with young children. So unless I was willing to date a man who needed regular diaper changes, I didn't have to worry about having blown my chances with the potential love of my life.
"Come on, I think Ramona wanted to leave as soon as we were done here. You know how she is about having plenty of time to check into a hotel before a book signing. If she doesn't have enough time to get beautiful she'll cancel the signing and then her publicist is going to give her sh- crap."
"And crap rolls downhill. I get it." I gave Shep an affectionate punch in the arm and started back to the RV without argument. I wanted to grab a quick shower at the facilities here before we hit the road and I knew he wasn't kidding about my grandmother's desire to greet her public looking fantastic.
Every life hinges on a series of days that change everything. The thing about days like that is that you never see them coming. Looking back, that shower marked the last time that everything in my life was normal. If I knew then what was in store for me, I think I might have just kept walking past the showers and down the road. I guess that's why change takes you by surprise. I doubt anyone would seek out life altering transformations willingly.
But I didn't know and so it was with visions of cute boys and clean hair dancing in my head that I went from my old life and headlong into the insanity.
Table of Contents
Start
Every Last Kiss, Final Copy, June 30, 2011 Page 22
