“Fleeting,” he says darkly. He blows the loose wisps of hair falling across his forehead up with a heavy puff. “Fine. If that’s the way you see it, if that’s what you want, then fine. I’ll only ever treat you like a guardian from now on.” He turns his back on me, but before he leaves the alcove, adds, “But I have thought about what would happen to you, and I was prepared to sacrifice everything to keep you safe.” Then he tosses aside the tapestry and stalks out.
Leaving me gaping.
Gods, why? How did we fall apart? My legs tremble, and I press my back to the cool stone, gaining balance as the onslaught of emotions nearly take me over.
Chapter Eight
As I ride the barge to Antirhodos, I think about all the time Xarion’s spent at the Library these past months. Pouring over tomes and scrolls, trying to discover a loophole in the creation of the Kythan. As much as I trust he’s been trying to understand my ancestry to stop Octavian’s Leymak legion, I know he’s been seeking a way to free me also. His questions that day in the Library present themselves in perfect clarity now.
But running away can’t be the answer.
Xarion’s actions tonight anger me, only because I know anything between us can never be. And because he’s infuriatingly right.
I cut him down because I’m afraid. He may be impetuous and flighty at times, but he’s willing to risk everything for—what? It’s still impossible to think he reciprocates my feelings. My best friend, becoming my lover. A forbidden thought but it excites me. And he’s willing enough to do what I balked at when confronted: try.
What would it mean if I were freed? Would the queen accept me as his choice? Hardly. Would Egypt accept a former Kythan slave as the future queen to Xarion? No. He would have to sacrifice not only his crown, but his entire life—everything. He admitted as much, but does he really understand the cost? I would no longer be subject to the punishment of death, but we’d surely have to leave Alexandria. Maybe even Egypt.
And how could he keep my unbinding away from the Kythan? Once freed, surely every Kythan would revolt and demand to be freed. Xarion’s words of sacrifice haunt me. I touch the gold-leafed cabin pole, my fingers tracing the curved ankh. It’s just not his or my sacrifice. We’d sacrifice tradition and all of Egypt to be together. It would incite a rebellion.
Does he truly feel I’m worth that? I don’t know if it’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard or the bravest—to stand against everything and everyone to chance a life together.
I can’t deny that the thought of his lips on mine, his hands caressing me passionately, his words of longing whispered in my ear drives me mad. I crave him like my lungs crave air, like my tongue craves water.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to force thoughts of his touch away. I can’t allow myself to be weakened. I have to stay strong, and that’s going to be difficult since I’m with him every day. It’s the worst kind of torture. Why did he tell me? I could have gone my whole life ignorant of his feelings and somehow found a way to be content, if not happy, as his guardian.
Looking to the sky, Phoenix’s rant comes to me on the harbor breeze, his words puncturing holes of uncertainty in my ba; my soul. Our own creator believes it’s a season of change. Fadil is stirring dangerous ideas in my friend and who knows how many other Kythan. And now Xarion is adding to that confusion, planting seeds of doubt within me. My life, my home, my duty . . . but to be free? I’ve never thought of the possibility.
Would my freedom also mean freedom for Xarion? If Octavian conquers at Actium, then death awaits the king of Egypt. Xarion could be spared. He could live a life—his life—free from the rulers of the world who wish him harm.
And the Leymak have proven they can co-exist within the human world, among the gods, without binds to control them.
But for how long?
No great power comes without consequences if it goes ungoverned. Look at what Rome is becoming. It’s proof that power corrupts. Xarion’s own father was murdered for his power. Now Rome aims to conquer all the world—just as Alexander tried to do.
There is no clear choice in this matter. I take in a deep breath, allowing the cool, salty air to cleanse my heated lungs. Keeping my back to Xarion, I look up to Pharos. Its fire-white light blazes against the darkness, strong and fierce.
The air around Pharos ripples, the sky’s violet hue fading to a deep crimson. A staggering vision sweeps over me and my legs buckle. I clutch the cabin pole as the world around me changes.
Flames engulf Alexandria, the Pharos’s light setting the city aflame as it travels over buildings and palaces. Cries ring out, terrified screams that rise above the smoke. Lightning arcs against the harbor skyline; Charge attacking like bolts from the sky.
Come to me, sister.
Fear grips my stomach, and I glance around, searching for the source amongst the chaos.
“Star?” Xarion’s voice breaks through the vision. Close, but it feels distant.
The Leymak I battled—Candra, is here. But how? I shake my head, and the vision begins to fade. No, she’s not in the city, she can’t possibly be. She’s speaking to me again through the aether. She sent the vision. She wants me to believe Alexandria will burn. But was it a threat or a glimpse of the future?
Anger roils my already nauseated stomach. What does she want from me?
Isis, what should I do?
I exit the queen’s barge, feigning a headache from the loud production, which isn’t completely a lie. My head feels like it’s split in two from the vision. But I can’t answer the concern in Xarion’s eyes right now. I can’t deny him the truth if he demands that I tell him, but I don’t want to burden him with this on his siblings’ birthday, especially since he’s already cross because of me. Whatever that vision was, however it was sent, can be questioned later. My hands tremble as I reach for a column to steady myself.
“Are you attending the twins’ banquet?” Xarion asks, his tone clipped, his eyes cast on something over my shoulder—not me.
I look into his cool, aloof face. He’s angered over our argument, but there’s worry edged in the creases of his eyes. When I don’t respond immediately, he says, “The twins wish you to be there, so—”
“I’ll be there,” I say. His eyes snap to mine. He nods once, then walks into the palace.
Heading toward my room to grab the twins’ gifts, I consider who I can speak to about Candra’s taunt. I’d have gone straight to the queen if she were here—No. I’d have rushed to inform Xarion first. This rift between us is affecting my duty. As soon as the twins’ dinner is over, I’ll tell him. I may have gone to Fadil, but that was before I began questioning his loyalty—his sanity.
But he’s not the true threat. Any real power the sorcerer once held lies in a dormant relic. The Leymak need to be my focus. And I need a pharaoh who’s not afraid to rule.
Isis, return our victorious queen soon.
Selene and Helios’s party stretches long into the night. Decked out in their finest—eyes painted with green malachite, rimmed in kohl; ceremonial wigs; golden broad collars—they laze on dinning couches along the garden terrace, fanned by giant ostrich feathers, laughing and mingling, as if they’re one of the adults they converse with. It brings a smile to my face. Selene holds Bast—one of the many palace cats—in her lap, stroking her black coat. They’re enjoying the banquet so much. I pray nothing dampens their fun.
Lanterns glow. Date palms sway in the cool ocean breeze. Vines of jasmine are weaved through the sweeping, latticed roof. Their blossoms compete with the scent of glazed pork and roasted duck. Laughter mixes with low music as the lyre player strums the strings, and many of the guests sway alongside the dancers draped in sheer, silvery linen.
This party is far tamer than the queen’s usual dinners. Since the twins have just turned eleven, the dancers remain clothed and mostly everyone drinks in moderation, although a few of the nobles are beginning to slur and stumble. I’m trusting Xarion to end the banquet soon and send the after par
ty elsewhere to finish their drinking before the fornicating begins.
I stand guard in a corner of the terrace, my hand resting on the hilt of my khopesh. My eyes dart toward every sound, searching for movement against the dark, starless backdrop. Candra has set my nerves on edge. I refuse to let her or any other ruin the twins’ night.
A deep chuckle catches my attention, and my gaze lands on Xarion. He’s lounging on a silken couch, picking figs from the plate set before him on the marbled floor table. His eyes are deeply rimmed with kohl, and their normally clear emerald is glassy and heavy-lidded. They meet mine for a brief moment, his lips pressing together in a hard line, then return to the council member he’s talking to.
I inwardly sigh. How has our relationship changed so much over the course of just a few months? I think back on our time together, seeking the exact moment when everything altered. We’ve always been close, and it’s true he’s a flirt, so nothing stands out. But then I recall the Sekhmet feast. Our intoxicated bodies pressed together, his face inching closer to mine before we were interrupted. And the weighty words he spoke to me moments before.
And, I remember the day after his coronation as Pharaoh. He searched me out among everyone to confide his worries of becoming King. That nagging fear that he’s only using me as a means of escape surfaces once again.
It doesn’t matter, though. Whether or not his feelings for me are true, or if he’s fearful of being Pharaoh—especially since Antonius is pushing to see him take the Roman throne—there is nothing that can be done. We simply can’t be together. The sooner I accept that the better. The sooner he accepts it and his responsibility to his people, the better.
A loud clang followed by a shout interrupts my thoughts. My hand draws my sword as I scan the terrace, my feet already in motion toward the disturbance. A Shythe servant drops to her knees and mutters a curse as she scrapes together spilled grapes and cheese next to a silver tray.
I stop and lower my sword, though my eyes continue to sweep the area, my body tense. When I spot Phoenix, his eyebrows hike, and he looks at me as if I’m mad. He’s not too far off.
He walks over while the party continues around us. “Maybe I’m not the only one who needs a little release, huh?” he whispers, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
“Shut up, Phoenix,” I breathe. Sheathing my khopesh, I try to calm my racing heart. “Maybe it’s time to take the twins to their chambers.” I look into his glowing red eyes. “It’s late.”
He groans. “Don’t, Star.”
“Don’t what?”
“Just don’t.” He crosses his arms, his biceps glisten from the humidity. “It’s rare that I get to enjoy adult company while guarding the children,” he says. “Don’t pull your prude nonsense, not while I’ve just about secured an after party for myself once they’re in bed.” He winks at the servant girl as she straightens her tunic. She blushes, and I realize it was Phoenix who must have caused her blunder.
Before I can chide him on his responsibility to watch over Selene and Helios and not the many girls working the banquet, another sound calls my attention. The party grows still. A low buzzing fills the air, slowly growing louder. Questioning murmurs roll through the terrace as people sit straighter, tilt their heads. The wind whips fiercely at the date palms, their branches lashing against the side of the palace.
Below the ruckus, distinct voices rise against the whirring.
“What is that?” Selene asks.
My head whips in her direction. My spine tingles with fear. Can Selene hear the Leymak? They whisper in a chorus of chants, their words unclear. But no, maybe Selene’s referring to the brewing storm.
I grab Phoenix’s arm and pull him along. “Come on. Get the twins inside.”
He breaks loose and rushes ahead of me, sword outstretched. The seated council members and nobles gasp at his approach and bound up, running for the open doors. Lunia takes Helios’s hand, and Xarion scoops Selene into his arms. Reluctantly, he passes her to Phoenix when his eyes meet mine.
Gritting his teeth, Phoenix says, “Orders, master?”
Xarion glances around. “You and Lunia take Selene and Helios to the safe chamber. Star and I will gather the guardians.”
I square my shoulders. “Master, you have to go with them. I’ll call the guardians and secure the palace.”
Ignoring my suggestion, he looks at Lunia. “Take them now.”
She and Phoenix race the twins inside, their hands clinging to their guardians.
“Get inside, Xarion,” I snap.
A palm branch breaks loose and the sharp edge spirals toward Xarion. I step in front of him and knock him to the floor, the branch striking me instead. It slices my arm and I shout. “Go now!”
“You’re coming with me.” He seizes my hand, pulling me into the palace. We trail behind Phoenix and Lunia down the corridor.
Once I see that they’re almost to the room, I jerk out of his hold. “Go find Fadil to work a safety spell. I’m going to search out the Leymak.”
His dark-rimmed eyes pierce mine. “I command you to—”
I plant my hand over his mouth before he can finish. Anger roils my stomach. “You know someone has to find them before they breach the palace. There might only be a few of them—”
He removes my hand. “I command you to get to that safe room, Star,” he says, and my body grudgingly obeys.
People frantically run through the palace seeking cover while the guardians try to control the chaos. They usher everyone toward the lower level where the safe chambers for the servants are located. The royals have a separate safe room near the queen’s chambers.
Lunia meets us halfway. “I’m going for Delphus,” she says quickly, barely halting her feet as she passes. Blue currents illuminate her arms. She’s ready to face down any foe that threatens her charge.
Now that I know the children are safe, I stare down Xarion. “Break the command and get into that room.”
“Only if you come with me,” he says, a challenge in his voice.
“You’re not commanding me, master?”
A loud snap bites through the corridor, and I leap in front of Xarion. I crane my neck to look into his face. “You’re giving me a choice?”
His tanned arms flex as his hands curl into fists. He raises his voice over the screaming winds. “I release the command. I want you to choose to come with me.” He holds out his hand.
There’s an unsaid dare in those words—an offer. To assure his safety, I take hold of his hand. His lips lift into a slanted smile, and even though I wish I could smack it off him, my heart lightens. I scowl to keep from smiling and lead him through the clambering chaos toward the room.
I don’t want him to believe he’s won some battle—some small victory over me. But I’ll handle his ego later. Right now, all I care about is keeping him safe and away from Octavian’s minions.
We’re nearing the royal safe room when the corridor rumbles. Vases and debris fly into our path. A lilting laugh ricochets off the walls, and a beam groans above. Xarion looks back at me, his eyes wide. I push him out of the way of the falling beam.
The hallway is blocked off.
I can just make out his splayed figure on the other side.
“Go!” I cry.
I hear his shout of frustration right before I’m hit from behind.
Chapter Nine
Grasping my sword, I fight off the pain in my shoulder blade, and turn to face my foe.
An empty corridor stretches before me.
Shouts and a cacophony of pandemonium rock the palace. A porcelain vase lies shattered near my feet, my blood staining the white stone.
“Show yourself!” I shout.
The air shimmers, black and silvery wisps bleeding into reality. “We’re not fighting today, sister. I’ve only come to ask of your assistance.”
Squinting, I run my sword through the rippling aether. It curls around my blade like smoke. In my hurry to get Xarion out of danger, I didn’t question h
ow they were able to cross the barrier. I only assumed they had. And I suppose they still can’t—not in corporeal form, at least. They’re using their power over the aether to attack the palace.
Ignoring Candra’s presence, I sheath my khopesh and rush past citizens, heading toward the highest level of the palace. Throwing open the first door I come to, I take a step onto the terrace.
“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” she whispers near my ear.
A cold chill sweeps over my skin as her voice lingers in the air. I step toward the rail of the terrace, my insides twisting as I take in the sight below. Pulsing white light beams across the harbor. Dark figures form a line just outside the city walls, their hands raised toward Alexandria, their power emitting a fierce glow.
“What do you want?” I finally ask. This is a scare tactic—the Leymak boasting their power, trying to intimidate. I can’t fight Candra as she’s not truly here, only her ka. They’ve waited patiently since the battle for this moment. And I have a troublesome feeling this has little to do with Octavian’s desires for the throne.
They want something.
Candra’s Ka wavers as she smiles, her faded form breaking through the aether. “I want an ally. Someone close to the young pharaoh, a trusted slave. Someone to bring him to Octavian.”
Anger flares in my chest, white-hot coils licking my insides. “You’ll get nowhere near Caesarion,” I snap, my voice rough. “And Octavian will soon be defeated by our queen. You should pick your allegiances better in the future.”
Her delicate black linens flow like currents in the sea, the shadows of her smooth features and silver irises eerily contrasting. “Your queen has already lost. And when she returns, Octavian will march on Alexandria—”
“Lies,” I seethe. “You tell me this to scare me, to try to—”
“To try to what, Star?” I step back, shaken. I gave her my given name only. She tilts her head. “Why would I offer you this? Why would I seek you out to unite with me if I have no binds? The only thing you have that I want is the king of Egypt. And truly, it’s only a matter of time before he’s captured.”
Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians) Page 7