"Pardon me my Queen," Apollodorus entered. He ignored the fact that Nathan was on his knees his face right in front of Cleopatra's leaking pussy. "But Caesar is there."
Cleopatra turned her face slowly, her eyes still glistening with the remnants of pleasure Nathan had just given her. There was a softness in her gaze, a rare vulnerability that flickered for the briefest moment before her expression shifted, returning to the composed, regal mask she wore so well.
Apollodorus stood nearby, silent but observant, his eyes catching every detail with the wary discipline of a trusted attendant.
"Bring him to the main tent," Cleopatra commanded, her voice smooth and authoritative. "I will join him shortly."
"Yes, my Queen," Apollodorus responded with a respectful bow. Yet as he turned, his gaze lingered on Nathan for a moment longer than expected—a glance not of jealousy, but of acknowledgment. And perhaps, quiet judgment.
