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Julie lay back against the pillows gazing up at him, her pale skin almost luminous in the shadows, her blue eyes filled with love.

He marveled at the sadness he felt, at the sadness that had gripped the three of them earlier, because he was happier now, he knew, than he had ever been in all his long life. He was happy and filled with quiet courage for what lay ahead of them all.

Ramses the Damned he was still, yes, in ways no one might ever understand. He would be that always. But he was happy and he knew it, and he cherished every moment.

Enough of thinking when the heart tripped and the blood grew hot and his body came alive with the single wordless obsession with her presence, her beauty, her patient gaze.

He pulled off his clothes roughly, stepped out of them, and fell silently into her arms, his lips pressed first to her eyelids and then to her naked breasts and finally to her sweet upturned mouth.

All thoughts of his broken Cleopatra left him. All fascination for the distant and all-powerful queen. All fascination for the world and this war that threatened it. And he gave in to the source of strength for him that was greater than any other. Her tender acceptance, her surrender, her quiet unending love.