King of Kings
He died at thirty-two, two millenia ago. The ambitious have lived in his shadow ever since.
Alexander the Great conquered everything from Greece to India before most men learn who they are. His soldiers loved him with a ferocity that defied reason. His generals wept at his deathbed. His enemies built temples in his name. Hundreds of years later, emperors still make pilgrimage to his tomb, still measure themselves against his shadow, still fail.
King of Kings moves between Alexandria's sacred crypt and the blood-soaked battlefields of Alexander's ascent. Julius Caesar stands before the sarcophagus and feels his fifty years as a kind of death sentence. Napoleon searches the ruins for a tomb that may no longer exist, chasing a ghost through streets that have forgotten how to remember. Between their visits, the past flickers to life: a boy learning at Aristotle's feet that wisdom means knowing you know nothing. A young warrior proving himself in the chaos of Thebes. A king watching his best friend die and losing whatever part of himself was still human.
This is a novel for those who already know Alexander's story and want to understand why they can't stop thinking about it. For readers who sense that beneath the mythology lies a simpler, more devastating truth: he was just a soldier, the best of them, and the men who followed him knew it in their bones.
They come to his tomb looking for a god. They find something worse. A man who was everything they wanted to be.
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