"You," she called out, her voice soft but commanding.
Nathan stirred, slightly tilting his head.
"Let's speak," she said, not asking, but declaring.
Nathan's gaze shifted toward Cleopatra as she called out to him just before he could step into the tent.
If it had been up to him, he would have avoided this meeting altogether. Cleopatra was far too perceptive for his liking—sharp-minded, quick-witted, and possessed an uncanny ability to pierce through deception with just a few well-placed questions. If she asked the right things and he fumbled his answers, the carefully constructed mask he wore—both literal and metaphorical—would unravel in an instant.
Yet, despite his unease, Nathan had no choice but to obey. She had summoned him, and to refuse would raise more suspicion than he could afford.
With a measured breath, he stepped into the tent.
