Her hands reached down and raised his face from her shoulder. She loved gazing into his eyes when they lay locked in passion. Kissing him with gentle little kisses, she said once more the words he never tired of hearing from her lips. "I love you, Marcus! I love you! Never leave me! Never!"

His sapphire-blue eyes bore into her, and told her all that his lips could not say at this tender and yet fiery moment. The deep and desperate loving began again, and she felt him growing and filling her with such pleasure that she believed for a long moment that death was but an instant away. Nothing, she reasoned, could be quite that wonderful, but he certainly was. Again, and yet once more he led her down passion's path until the rapture burst over her in a shower of tiny golden lights. Then she tumbled into a velvet abyss of warm, loving darkness that enfolded her, rocked her, protected her.

When she came to herself once more he was looking at her with a bemused expression. "Did all of this come about simply because I questioned your prowess with a broadsword?" he asked.

Weakened by his loving, she could only manage a soft chuckle. Unable to resist, he bent and tenderly covered her face with kisses. "I adore you, my Queen," he said quietly. "I adore you, beloved!"

"Then I have won this victory myself, Marcus," and her voice held a teasingly triumphant note.

He laughed then. He couldn't help it, for she had so very neatly outmaneuvered him. "You have won the victory fairly, beloved," he admitted.

There came a discreet knocking at the library door, and Marcus rose from the couch, snatching up his long tunic, sliding it over his big frame, reaffixing his toga. He looked to Zenobia who had as quickly redressed in her graceful long, white stola with its wide belt of gold squares studded with turquoise-blue chunks of Persian lapis. She nodded, and he said, "Enter!"

Cassius Longinus returned to the room, saying, "I assume you have reconciled your differences now, my children. It seemed to me when I was forced to hurriedly depart that you were well on your way to doing so."

They both laughed, and Zenobia replied, "We have indeed reconciled our differences, Longinus, and I have easily won the victory."

"Indeed the queen is invincible," the smiling Marcus agreed, and it seemed as if his words were prophetic of the months to come.


***

Palmyra's legions moved across Syria, subduing all rebellion in the name of the Roman Empire. Asia Minor was firmly cowed, and only then did Zenobia return to her oasis city.

There she found that in her absence her son, the boy king, had grown into a young man. He was fully as tall as she was, and so closely resembled his father, Odenathus, that it almost hurt her to look at him.

"Is it that I have been away so long," she marveled, "or have you really become a man?"

"I have become a man," he answered her. Gone was the squeaky voice of change that had bid her farewell. Now his voice was deep and sure.

"He has your knack for government," Longinus said quietly. "He has begun to rule, and rule well."

"Only under your guidance, and that of Marius Gracchus," the sixteen-year-old king replied graciously.

"Strange," Zenobia mused. "I had thought that you would prefer the military, like your father."

"I have not yet had the chance, Mother. You and Marcus have led the armies these many months."

"You were too young to go," she protested.

"But I am no longer too young. I will take the armies into Egypt when they go this winter. Palmyra's kings have always been good generals."

"No," she said quietly.

"What? Do you love war so, Mother?"

"I can see now that only your body has grown, Vaba. Your mind is yet that of a child."

"I am the king, and I will lead the armies!"

"I am the queen, and you are not yet of age. Until you are, my word is supreme in Palmyra! There is danger all about you. I will do everything in my power to protect you until you have a son of your own."

"I will choose my wife," he said, and she knew in that instant that he already had. She invoked the gods that the girl be suitable.

"Who is she, my son?"

"You will approve, Mother. It is Flavia, the daughter of your friends, Antonius Porcius and his wife, Julia."

"Flavia Porcius? She is but a child, Vaba."

"She is almost thirteen, Mother. She has already begun her woman's flow."

"I don't want to know how you know that," Zenobia said, shocked, and behind her both Longinus and Marcus smiled. The young king might look like his father, but he was his mother's son in that he was determined to have his way.

"Nonetheless she is my choice for a wife, and I will wager even you could not choose a more suitable girl. She is Palmyran-born, of reputable family, and ready to bear children. More important to me, however, is the fact that she loves me and I love her."

"Then why do you want to rush off into battle?"

"I must prove myself worthy to rule Palmyra; to myself, to my people, and to Flavia. Until I do I am only your son, and that is simply not enough for me. I must be a man in my own right."

Zenobia turned away so he might not see her tears. Vaba was indeed becoming a man. Gently he put his arm about his mother. "You have given me the greatest gift any woman could give her child. You gave me time to grow, time to learn, time to play. But now the time has come for me to earn my place. All your life you have been so good, so loyal, so generous. Do you not want a life of your own? Do you not want to marry Marcus? You are yet young enough to have children, and I believe that like any man he wants a son."

She blushed at his words. He, her firstborn, her baby, was chiding her, but when she turned to give him a sharp reply she saw how earnest he was, and instead she said, "You are right. You shall lead our armies into Egypt this winter while I remain behind to rule this city in your stead."

It was going to be devastating, she thought. Both Vaba and Marcus, two of the three males she loved best in this world, away from her this winter; for of course Marcus was still commander of the legions, and would go to guide Vaba in military matters. Then suddenly she thought that it was not so terrible after all. Egypt would be easily subdued, and Vaba would have his first taste of battle. He would return to marry Flavia Porcius, then she, Zenobia, would be free to marry Marcus Britainus. Together they would guide the young king and his wife in their rule of the Eastern Empire. Zenobia smiled. When Vaba's first child was born she would declare her son Augustus, supreme ruler of the Eastern Empire. With all the lands from Egypt to Asia Minor under their rule, who would dare to dispute them? Certainly not Rome, weakening Rome with its succession of soldier-emperors, and its north-em and western borders constantly challenged by barbarian tribesmen.

Later she sighed within the comfort of Marcus's arms. "Soon we shall be able to marry. Make this Egyptian campaign a quick one, my darling!"

"Do I not always do my best to oblige you, beloved?" he teased her, his hot mouth finding a ready nipple. Slowly he sucked on her sweet flesh, taunting her with his tongue while his fingers moved to torture her in yet another sensitive spot. They loved almost without ceasing in that short period between military campaigns. Zenobia allowed her son and the Council of Ten almost complete freedom while she and Marcus locked themselves within the love chamber she had created for them. They could not be sated in their consuming desire for each other.


***

Less than a month before Palmyra's legions were due to depart, a trusted household slave of the Alexander family arrived from Rome, bearing tidings from Marcus's mother. The slave had been admitted into the queen's private apartment, and stood staring in amazement at the colorful, rather explicit frescoes that adorned the walls. Watching him, Zenobia thought that the Alexander household in Rome was sure to get quite a report.

"Is every all right?" she asked Marcus.

"No." He paused in his reading. "My fattier is ill, beloved. He is seriously ill, possibly dying. My mother has sent to Britain for my younger brother, Aulus, to come home." He turned to the slave. "How long ago did you leave Rome, Leo?"

"This is the fiftieth day, Marcus Britainus, since my departure."

"It's thirty-three days to Britain. My brother is halfway to Rome already. Zenobia…"

"I will lead the legions, Marcus. You must answer your mother's plea. If the worst is to happen I could not live with myself knowing that I had kept you from your father in the hour of his death. Go back to Rome, and then come home to Palmyra, and to me."

"You will be able to manage?"

She smiled at him, a slightly wry smile. "I can manage, my darling, although I am not sure I should admit to that. Nor would I, but I don't want you to worry. Perhaps it is better that I take my son, the king, and teach him the art of war. Do not fear for us, Marcus. Longinus shall remain here with Demetrius. The succession is safe. Go to Rome."

"Leo and I will start at dawn for Tripoli. There will be a ship sailing for Brindisi."

"Do not take just any vessel, Marcus," she pleaded with him.

His blue eyes drove into her very soul. "I am coming back to you, I promise, beloved."

"I cannot survive without you, Marcus!"

He laughed gently. "Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, I do not believe that for a moment." He wrapped his arms about her, and felt her trembling against him. Small tears mattered her black eyelashes, tears she fought to hold back. Tenderly he tasted of her mouth, kissing at the corners of it, nibbling at her upper lip affectionately. "Oh, queen of my heart, do not make my going any harder. How I wish that Vaba ruled in his own right, and that you were naught but my wife and might go with me!" He sighed, and then said quietly, "I will take Leo to my house. Severus must be informed so that he may assume the responsibilities that are mine while I am gone."

"You will return to me tonight?" She brushed a tear that had dared to slip down her cheek.

"Yes."

When he was gone, taking the slave, Leo, with him, she sat squarely in the middle of the sleeping platform, legs crossed, very much like the child she had once been. It would be the first time that they had been separated. Thank the gods for the winter campaign against Egypt. She needed it to keep herself occupied. Rome was so far away, across a vast sea that she hadn't ever seen. There was a finality about Marcus's trip that frightened her, and set her imagination to playing tricks on her. Would he return to her if his father died? He would then be the head of his family, and it was not a responsibility he could pass on to his younger brother. Aulus, after all, had a life in Britain, and lands that needed his management there.

By the time Marcus returned to the palace that evening Zenobia was a bundle of nerves. He had never seen her that way. For that matter in her entire life she had never behaved that way. She picked at her food, but so did he even though she had ordered that his favorite dishes be prepared.

"I don't like leaving you, beloved," he said. "I wish you could come with me. I am beginning to see disadvantages in loving a queen."

"Then I shall come with you! Oh, Marcus, yes! I will come with you! I know it will shock your family, but I do not care if I may be with you!"

"No, it is impossible, Zenobia. You cannot come. If you come then you must send Vaba into Egypt alone. Without your tactical skill he is sure to lose."

"If your father dies you will not be able to return to Palmyra," she said, admitting to what really concerned her.

"I will return to Palmyra, beloved. I promise you that, and never have I broken a promise to you."

"If you are head of your family, how can you leave them?"

"I can leave them to return to Palmyra to fetch my wife, for you are my wife, beloved. Zenobia, marry me before I go! Be my wife legally, before the gods."

"We would have to wed secretly, Marcus, and that I will not do as long as I am the reigning queen. You know it! We have spoken it before."

"As always, you put Palmyra before all else," he said, his voice a trifle bitter.

"And you!" she accused him. "Are you not putting your family before our love? You see your duty, and you do it. Why, then, is it so different when I do the same?" Suddenly she stood up from the table with its barely touched meal. "I will not quarrel with you, my darling. Not tonight; this is the last night we will have for so many months! Come!" She held out her hand to him. "Let us bathe, and then let us spend the hours we have left in making love to each other."