It was as if our bodies were created for just that purpose; to come together.
I bite my lip, trying to conceal the bright smile taking over my face. My thoughts haven’t left our morning together all day, and I desperately need to focus on serious matters. But as I attempt this, I spot Xarion seated at the council table, his head lowered over a parchment. Only his eyes continuously peek up at me, and I have to look away, knowing we’ll expose our secret if we continue this game.
The gravity of our actions bears down on me, and I plant a stoic expression on my face, straightening my posture into a dignified guardian stance.
But in his bed chamber, when pleasure consumed us at that cresting moment, the world didn’t end. The gods didn’t rain hell and damnation upon us. And it didn’t feel wrong. I search my heart for any remnant of remorse at having broken the law, but if it’s there, it’s buried beneath the joy and love.
I wish we could have found another way—could have waited for this war with Octavian to end, and I could’ve been made human so that nothing would taint our time together. But as I once again glimpse Xarion working dutifully with his council, he glows. Not a hint of guilt mars his serene features. I won’t allow centuries of slavery and prejudice to ruin us if he won’t. I vow to be as committed and strong in the belief that we are bound together—that we were meant to be together—as he is.
“Your Highness!”
My head snaps to Habi rushing into the chamber. His bare chest heaves, gleaming with sweat. “Pharaoh,” he says, his brows pinched, blazing blue eyes wide. “The queen has returned!”
Xarion’s chair scrapes the floor as he bounds to his feet. “Where?”
Habi inhales deeply. “Cleopatra’s ship has been spotted from Pharos. She entering the breakwaters now.”
At that, every person—human and guardian—leaves behind their dealings and rushes to the terrace. I grip the railing, staring past the swaying date palms at the quinqueremes entering the royal harbor. Their sails have been lowered, their once-glossy hulls dulled and battle worn. I pinpoint the queen’s emblem on the lead ship.
My heart thunders in my chest. I don’t see Cleopatra sitting atop in the cabin.
Turning to examine Xarion’s wary expression, I feel the need to reach out to him—take his hand and comfort him. Just until we see her feet touch land. Instead, I grip the hilt of my khopesh, saying a quick prayer that our queen lives.
That she has brought back the victory.
“Octavian’s ships do not trail hers,” Habi informs us, breaking the tense silence.
“Yes,” Xarion replies. “That’s a good sign.” He turns to Habi, squares his shoulders. “Regardless, summon a legion of guardians to surround the harbor. Place another two at each gate of the city.”
Habi bows. “Yes, Pharaoh.”
Phoenix joins us on the terrace, his guardian uniform disheveled. I twist my lips closed. Lunia has been searching for him the entire day. She’s been made to look after the twins and little Delphus during Phoenix’s unannounced hiatus. Lately, his neglectful behavior is extreme. Even for him. And since the queen has returned, we must be on at all times to guard the royals. At least until we know Octavian has been defeated for good.
He sidles up beside me, a smug smile tugging his full lips. “What did I miss?” he whispers.
“Oh, only the queen’s return.” I shrug. “Nothing of importance.”
Ignoring my chiding, Phoenix lifts his head toward the harbor. “Finally.” He turns to leave.
I latch on to his solid arm. “Where are you going?’
His red eyes flare, and I lower my hand, startled. But they quickly soften, and he takes my hand. “I’m sorry. We’ve been under such strain since she went to war. Forgive me if I feel the need to immediately celebrate.” A devious smile warms his face.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “At least ask Lunia first before your gorge yourself on beer and girls.” I eye him. “She needs a rest.”
He winks. “Fine idea.” Then he’s taking off through the chamber.
When I return my gaze to the harbor, the docking servants are roping the queen’s ship. My chest loosens, and I feel Xarion’s gaze on me. I meet it with one wish crowning my heart.
That the end of the war—the end of Octavian—means we’re free to find a way to be together.
I kneel on one knee in the throne room, anxiously awaiting the report from Cleopatra and Antonius.
Two towering golden thrones laden with jewels and ivory sit upon a dais. A statue of the goddess Isis rises from behind Cleopatra’s chair, her wings spread out over the throne, sanctioning her pharaoh’s seat of power. The goddess’s headdress bears the blood-red solar disk between two horns. Brightly colored tapestries drape the granite walls, the sea breeze causing them to flap as it cools the many gathered bodies. Sweat beads along my brow, runs down my back.
Once the queen and her husband were given time to rest from their journey, the dynamic couple called a debriefing meeting. Xarion has personally tended to his mother and stepfather since they entered the palace. I’ve waited patiently to hear the details of Actium, knowing Xarion has gotten them firsthand. I need to see his face to discern what the outcome is. Whether or not the war has ended.
My nerves wage their own battle as I fight to stay in my Kythan form when the queen and Antonius enter.
The room falls silent. Even the air is calm and respectful. Cleopatra elegantly glides across the dais, the sheer white fabric of her dress flowing behind her. Her smooth black hair shines from beneath her headdress, the same horn-encircled sun of Isis. Its shimmering length sways against her shoulders, reflecting the candlelight.
Iras and Charmain, Cleopatra’s handmaidens, take their place behind their queen as she’s seated. For a moment, my heart constricts. My mother was once one of the queen’s handmaidens, and I miss her presence here. But the fact the queen has not replaced my mother, keeping two guardians instead of three, lightens my Ba. Cleopatra loved my mother, and I agree with her sentiment: she was irreplaceable.
The queen’s dark eyes stare out over her council and guardians. Kohl rims them deeply, fanning out into a point near her temples. Her favorite piece of jewelry, the golden asp, circles her upper arm, and the bangles on her wrists clank; the only sound in the hushed room. She lifts her head high, as if she’s not just returned from a grueling battle.
She is the embodiment of Isis. The goddess made flesh.
I can feel every breath in the chamber being stolen as her presence fills the throne room.
As her husband removes his sword from his leather-strapped armor to seat himself in the throne next to her’s, my eyes trail the many bruises and scrapes marring his face, arms, and legs. Antonius shows signs of exertion, though he is every bit as regal and power-commanding as his queen.
Finally, Xarion enters, and my held breath releases in a silent whoosh. I fill my lungs, trying to quell the unease roiling in my stomach. As stealthily as possible, I search his face, his rigid frame, his tensed forearms. My heart thuds eagerly against my breastbone, and I grip my shift to keep it from jumping out of my chest.
He’s seated in a lesser throne below his mother’s, and wears the Roman armor of his stepfather, though he still dons the cuffs and crown of Egypt. Pride wells inside of me. But as I join the others in standing, my elation is cut short when my gaze falls to Cleopatra.
Her eyes bore a hole through me, her gaze sharp. I hold still, commanding my body not to reveal any weakness before her glare. She’s can’t possibly know what law Xarion and I have broken . . . not unless—
Xarion told her.
But no. My own guilt at having consummated our relationship is weighing on me before the queen. Her deep eyes hold no scorn for me. I see this as they shift, her arched brows pulling together in concern.
She’s fearful for her son, and I’m his personal guardian. My heart launches itself into my throat. I don’t need to hear the report. Suddenly I know the outcome, and I don’t feel I
can stand here for one minute longer. Not when at any moment Octavian could breach our city.
“Isis, guide us,” Cleopatra says, her voice firm as she begins her address. I swallow, clearing my throat of the thumping lump so I can hear her words. “We only just escaped the shores of Actium, having been outmanned, outsmarted, and outmaneuvered. Prevailed upon by his general Agrippa to bring down his troops from the north, Octavian surrounded us by both land and sea.” She pauses, lifting her head higher. “With no plan of evasion an effective alternative, we were forced to attack.”
The queen allows her council and guardians to process this information before she continues. She describes the battle in great detail as her consorts pass around maps and strategies written on parchment. Once Antonius knew they were doomed, he ordered Cleopatra’s ship to head for the only weakened zone in Octavian’s defenses and followed her out.
I bow my head for those left behind. For those captured and destroyed.
They spent the rest of their time putting out fires from the Narcos’ Flame, saving what ships and men they could. But when Cleopatra confesses that their legions abandoned them before they could retaliate on land, my heart shatters. And when finally she nears the end of her account, she says, “It is but one battle. One glorious moment for that traitorous mongrel. We will build our forces here and ready for an invasion. And as I suspect Octavian will want to gloat before attempting to sack our great city, we’ll have some time to prepare.”
Hushed voices rumble from the gathered council members. I strain to hear their words, but when Fadil steps forward, I focus fully on him.
“My queen,” he says, bowing low, his blue robe dusting the floor. Cleopatra nods, giving him permission to address her and the Council. “I wish this could wait, as I do not want to stack more unhappy news upon the somber tale you’ve spun. But I must inform you of Octavian’s employment in the ancient magics.”
The queen’s shoulders tense, and she grips the arm of her throne tightly. “Proceed,” she says, her tone lethal.
“Yes, my queen.” Fadil takes two steps closer to the dais. “He’s created a new race of Kythan. Shortly after you took leave, our guardians were attacked in the desert, only escaping by chance.” Anger burns in my chest. Chance had nothing to do with our tactful escape. “They can not only summon the power of the aether, they walk within it. Travel. Their power is unmatched. Since then, we’ve been shut inside the city, only our ancient barrier keeping the Leymak Kythan from entering.” He attempts to straighten as much as his rigid frame will allow. “I seek permission from the pharaoh to search Egypt for one who can employ the old magics and create more guardians.”
Low gasps fill the room, and my jaw tenses. Having learned how Ahmose I fashioned the first Kythan army, I don’t know how Fadil can ask this, how he can suggest such a barbaric act in our civilized world. In the short time we have left, the only people he could perform the ritual on are the Alexandrians. Not enemy prisoners. What has been done is done, and of the past. We are here, and there is no reason to torture the innocent—to strip their identities and chain them to a near-eternal lifetime of slavery.
I must lose my mind, because without thought, I step forward. “No, my queen. I beg of you.” All heads snap to me, and I fall to my knees. “Forgive me—forgive my boldness. But I fear this cannot be the way to defeat our enemies.”
The room is as silent as death as it waits for the queen’s reply. “Rise, Guardian Astarte,” Cleopatra commands. My body obeys, shakily standing once again. “I will hear your thoughts.”
My shock complete, I lift my gaze to hers, avoiding the disdain I know I’ll find on Fadil’s face. I pull my back straight as her kohl-rimmed eyes watch me carefully, inspecting.
She stands and sweeps her hand through the air. “In private,” she declares. “I want a private council with Guardian Astarte and Pharaoh Caesarion. All else are dismissed. Begin preparations for defensive tactics against Octavian’s legions.”
A murmured acknowledgment ripples through the chamber as the Council begins to exit, a sullen Fadil trailing behind them. His anger at having been dismissed is almost tangible, and I know I’m in for a scolding later from my creator. But his order will not supersede the pharaoh’s. I pray to Isis that Cleopatra won’t consider his request. And I pray harder that, in her wisdom, she’ll not uncover the law I’ve broken with her son.
But as she approaches me, her thin, wispy dress swaying like a wraith around her elegant form, I don’t fear her. Cleopatra is wise and just. And unlike the Council who would drain the people of every cent to ensure they’re kept in their lavish lifestyle, she would sacrifice her riches for her people. She won’t punish me for wanting to spare them a fate far worse than Octavian deems for them.
Xarion stands at her side, his hands clasped behind his back. I meet his confident gaze briefly before looking at Cleopatra, emboldening myself. “I’m sorry, my queen. I was out of line to speak against my creator.”
She fans her hand, waving off my apology, and her bangles clink. “I grew tired of Fadil’s irksome, ancient ways long ago.” A sly smile curves her mouth. “I did not call this private conference to discuss the lone sorcerer. Though have no fear, guardian. I have no intensions to order such a callous act upon our people. If it’s the will of the gods for Octavian to conquer Egypt, then it will be.” She glances at her son before continuing. “But even so, though I cannot defy their will, I refuse to simply hand over my first born to that murderous mongrel. I’m asking for you, my son’s protector, to lead him into the desert, Astarte. I’ve made arrangements.”
My heart rate quickens. Though she’s presented her order in the form of a request, the command is clear. My body acknowledges it all the same, and my mind is already deducing the best escape route. I bow low. “Yes, my queen.”
Xarion is not bound to obey, however. “Mother,” he snaps, and I hear the anger rising in his voice. “How can you ask me to run like a coward? You’ll need me in this battle. I can’t abandon—”
She halts his rant with a firm glare, her eyes narrowed. “Caesarion, I will not have the only son of the greatest Caesar become a martyr in this fool’s war.”
Xarion’s brow furrows, his mouth parts—but he decides against discounting her with a forced nod to acknowledge her concern, her wishes. I fist my hands, suppressing the urge to reach out to him.
Instead, Cleopatra sighs and palms his cheek, her features softening. “I do not think you weak, my son. Quite the opposite. It is because of your strength, your honor, your destiny that I send you away. Alexandria will be your end if you stay. When set upon, even Achilles was defeated.” Her chest rises with a strained breath. “Your time to fight and triumph over will come, but it is not now.”
There is so much heartache in her voice that if I’d not been commanded already, I’d rush Xarion into the desert this very moment to alleviate her pain. But the fact that the Leymak are out there lurking, waiting for such an opportunity, forces me to speak.
“Your Highness,” I say, my words cutting through the tension in the air. Cleopatra looks at me. “What Fadil says of the Leymak is true. They are nearly unstoppable, and they have been sent to abduct Pharaoh Caesarion by any means. Only the barrier halts their efforts. I will defend him with all that I am”—I glance at Xarion, conviction burning radiant blue in my eyes—“only I fear I’ll not be enough to protect him against their forces. They’ve surely been waiting for their moment, and they’ll be on us the moment we attempt escape.”
Rolling her shoulders back, Cleopatra infuses her being with power, as if she’s summoning Isis from within. “I appreciate your candid honesty, Astarte. You’ve always looked after my son, just as your mother did for me.” I blink, the ache in my throat irritating my sinuses. “That is why you’ve been chosen to lead this mission, and may choose a number of guardians to accompany you.” She takes my hand, the action so intimate my breathing halts. “We will wait for the moment Octavian and his legions descend. With a f
ull attack against the Leymak, our guardians will provide a diversion for your escape. There is a secret tunnel through the catacombs that leads outside of Alexandria. Once you’re through, you’ll head straight to the Red Sea port of Berenice. I’m sending enough riches to secure your route to India, where you’ll hide. And even I cannot know the exact location.”
It’s a frantic plan—a mother’s desperate strategy to save her son. Everything is against us. The Leymak, traveling the thin veil of the aether, may have spies as far as the Red Sea. But I have something they don’t.
A love that will stop at nothing to defend the true heir to Egypt and Rome.
I bow my head. “I will guard him with my life.”
Chapter Fourteen
In the weeks that follow, hastened plans are made, barriers around the city are fortified, and the guardians prepare for the war of the century.
A war that could change the rule of the world.
I never doubted that I would one day peer at Xarion from a knelt position as he graced the Roman throne. Like his mighty father before him, he would rule with strength and honor. Bridging the ever sought after union of the two greatest nations of the modern world. Something that Cleopatra has deemed to do since she took rule of Egypt.
I believe she’s always known her first born would be the one to join the divide, and that is why now—even with Fadil’s foreboding of the gods cleansing Egypt of the Ptolemies’ sacrilege—she holds her head high, commanding her guardians with prestige for the oncoming battle.
As much as I love Xarion, and will do everything within my power to see that day realized, I also love my queen. My binds assure that I do as she commands, but I’m thankful that her faith in her son has never wavered. Not even as she looks into the eye of the storm.
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