Her Pirate Master by Tula Neal

hope. Hope that Arsinoe would prevail had become hope that they would escape from the Romans, which, in turn, had become hope that Arsinoe could yet still reclaim what so many believed was hers. With the holy articles in her possession, Arsinoe hoped to persuade Marc Antony of her right to the throne and win the support of her people. The ancient gods of Egypt were on Arsinoe’s side. They had defeated the Nereids. Surely they would defeat Arsinoe’s enemies once and for all and grant her a long and triumphant reign over the United Lands. It had to be so. If not, Imi and her family would have sacrificed everything and gained nothing.
    The smell of food cooking distracted Imi from her thoughts. Her belly rumbled. She had not eaten since early that morning before they had entered the harbor. Imi allowed her nose to lead her to a side street, only slightly less busy than the road she had been on. Where she had seen only shops and a few residences, this street seemed almost entirely given over to food. A baker displayed his bread on her right, while on her left a butcher did brisk business. Men walked by with jugs of wine and baskets of vegetables, while women collected water at a nearby fountain.
    By the time, Imi found a thermopolium with an empty space at the counter, her mouth was watering. The fare on Seleucus’s ship had been better than she would have expected, but for the last couple of days the bread had been hard, the cheeses nearly inedible. Looking at the plates of her neighbors at the counter, she knew the meal would be a vast improvement. She ordered a plate of roasted meat and vegetables. Her first bite almost made her knees buckle. Basted with honey and covered in a spicy date and herb sauce, the meat was done to perfection, neither too tough nor undercooked. She finished her meal in minutes and washed it down with a cup of pomegranate wine.
    After she paid the eight sesterces she was charged, she was pleased to realize she still had ten left. She considered buying something for Seleucus but decided to wait until she was on her way back. Delos was known as the island of Apollo, and she wanted to take a look at the god’s temple. As she’d walked through the town, she had caught glimpses of it now and then on the tip of the hill overlooking the town. She asked directions of a man walking by and set off. The road the man had pointed out to her wasn’t very steep, but by the time she was halfway to the summit she was panting slightly, her face and arms covered in a light sheen of perspiration.
    Imi paused to catch her breath and look around. The houses on the hill were bigger and grander than those nearer the harbor. Sprays of brightly colored bougainvilleas spilled over high garden walls and trailed down from overhead verandahs. Here the noise of the docks and the vendors was nonexistent, and she had seen only a few people since she began her climb. Imi looked appreciatively across at a cobbled road that ran perpendicular to the hill, admiring its calm orderliness. She thought she could hear a woman singing behind one of the walls. Intrigued, she walked in the singer’s direction. As she got closer, she realized that at the end of each line or verse someone played a few notes on a sistrum and people murmured a chorus.
    Imi’s heart lurched in her chest. She turned a corner and saw a gate set in a huge limestone pylon. Imi crossed the road at a run and pushed the gate open. The long walls, plain white on the outside, were, on the inside, covered with murals depicting a menagerie of animals, including zebras, cats, birds, and, of course, the crocodile. Statues of the same animals were scattered all around the temple yard. Imi’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes smarted. In front of her, on the steps leading to the inner sanctum, the singer she’d heard was surrounded by worshippers.
    Imi wove forward among the silent animals, fascinated. The Great Mother’s temples were found in most cities of the