Candra knew of our escape route because of Lunia. I grit my teeth, push the traitor from my thoughts. Candra will either have the secret access barricaded, where I’ll be trapped amid the catacombs, or she’ll have posted guardians near to capture me.
I shake my half-empty flask. It took us a full day to reach the oasis. If she’s barricaded the entrance, I’ll not only lose twelve hours, I’ll be out of water after I’m forced to backtrack. It’s too great a gamble.
But she’s surely got every gate into Alexandria guarded. And the walls watched. I’ll not cross into Alexandria without being spotted.
Turning my face up toward the failing light, I mutter a curse. I curse the gods. I curse Cleopatra. I curse everyone. Xarion has done nothing to deserve this fate. He’s but a piece on a game board in the middle of political tumult.
Either direction I choose, Candra knows I’m coming. She’s waiting. She’s too egomaniacal to have simply ended my life in the desert when she had the chance. That’s why she wanted me buried instead or giving an order to have me killed. She wants me to see her become an immortal one. She wants to look into my eyes and show me she’s won before she destroys me.
Her pride is my ally.
I take off toward the tunnel, prepared to blast my way through the barricaded hatch if I must.
I’ll make the task of capturing me easy for her minions. Just as long as I’m able to look into her cold, hard eyes before I end her.
Two days have passed since our party first dispersed from Alexandria. By the time I reach the underground entrance of the Library, it’s been a full day since I last touched Xarion.
It’s been too long.
I’ve only allowed myself two hours of sleep, and that wasn’t my choice. My body collapsed from exhaustion and mental fatigue. I don’t berate myself for this anymore, as I know I’m no good to Xarion if I’m too weak to fight for him.
I swallow the last sip of water, then toss the flask and bag to the ground. No movement or noise comes from above. But that doesn’t mean they’re not waiting for me. I consider unleashing my Charge on the hatch; the element of surprise. It may be my only chance to break through their forces. Only my body is taxed, and I want to conserve my energy.
Placing one hand and one foot on the rungs, I whisper a prayer. Then I climb.
The latch gives at the first tug. A hollow bang echoes through the Library, and the element of surprise is lost. I hold my breath and wait, summoning my Charge. But no footsteps come.
My defense goes on high. This isn’t right.
I reach for the last rung to pull myself up and a pale hand grabs my arm. I scream, and unloose a current into my would-be captor.
“Gods—Star!”
Phoenix’s voice is nearly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
“Oh, Isis,” I say, latching on to his neck as he pulls me out of the tunnel.
He brings me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. The scent of ashes and smoldering embers engulf me. “How are you here?” I ask, moving out of his embrace so I can look into his eyes.
His face is smudged with soot and blood and earth. His irises illuminate the dark room around us, radiating a fierce red. “I couldn’t defeat Candra.”
My heart thuds painfully against my breastbone. “Xarion?”
Sucking a deep breath into his lungs, Phoenix nods once. “She took him to Octavian. I was only able to escape because Lunia wouldn’t attack me at her command, and the other Leymak was too wounded.”
“How long ago? When did she take him?”
His mouth drops at the corners. “Star, we arrived here in a mere flash. Within moments of leaving you in the desert.” Fear barbs my chest. “I searched for allies, but the Narcos have revolted against the Ptolemies. They’re disillusioned, believing Candra will free them. What Shythe survived, fled. I only just made it to the Library, hoping you’d risk it. Thank the gods you did.” He hugs me again, and I swallow.
“And you’re not grateful to her?” I cling to him, fearful I’ll lose him to her madness as well. “You wanted your freedom, Phoenix. I don’t understand.”
My legs begin to tremble, my body giving out from the long trek, stress, and lack of sleep and nourishment. Phoenix lowers himself and scoops me into his arms, then walks us to a desk.
Placing me on the stool, he sighs. “I was going to be freed before. And I’d have rather been freed by the pharaohs than this—” He motions toward the open door revealing the destruction of the city. “At least Caesarion’s way would’ve been honorable. Candra is one frightening bitch.”
Once he takes the seat opposite me, I shake my head. “Phoenix. What are you saying?”
A slight but sad smile curves his mouth. “Caesarion spoke to me right before we left. He was planning to release the Kythan once the war was over.” His jaw clenches. “He didn’t tell you.”
“No.” Before we even left Alexandria, before we knew what was to be the outcome, Xarion had planned for our future. Tears brim my eyes. He was never coming back to his home. At least not for a long time. His mother needed the army of Kythan to battle Octavian, but once the war was finished, Xarion had her vow to release the guardians’ slavery binds.
To release me.
I know that was his plan before Phoenix confirms it. Though he doesn't know the whole truth.
“He discovered how to use that ancient relic to release us,” Phoenix says. “I was angry when I first suspected that you and him—” He shakes his head, his matted hair brushes his bare shoulders. “I was jealous you’d be free and I’d be stuck a slave. I’m a foul-tempered Narco, what can I say?”
“Phoenix . . .”
“But I was wrong. You deserve happiness, as does he. Who am I to pass judgment? Look at my ways.”
I smile. Though in the midst of our near hopeless situation, it’s fleeting. “I never thought your ways were wrong.”
“I know. And yours shouldn’t be. No one should dictate who you can love. And, Caesarion is still my king. And you’re my friend.” He takes my hand. “Even if he hadn’t told me I was to be freed, I’d still fight alongside you. If it’s my life, I’ll risk it. If I don’t try, then I’ll be bound by my guilt forever. I’ll never truly be free.”
My heart swells, and I grip his hand back. “How long do we have?”
His eyes dim. “Octavian announced the king of Egypt would be punished for his crime against Rome come morning.”
Chapter Twenty
Phoenix yanks out an oversized robe from his sack. “Put this on.”
I slip my arms into the sleeves, my muscles aching with the slightest of movements. We’ve avoided the subject of Lunia, and that’s for the best. I don’t wish to know his feelings on the matter of her betrayal. Because when we face them, I won’t hesitate to kill her if she stands in my way. And I don’t want him trying to talk me out of that.
Not right now.
Now, my only concern is stealing a lavender tonic so that I can force my brain to sleep. I repeatedly remind myself that Xarion is safe. In captivity and possibly being tortured—but he’s alive.
I need rest in order to plot our next move. I need to know where and how he’s being kept, how many guardians and soldiers watch him, and whether or not Candra has already been given the scepter.
If she’s not yet attempted to transform herself into some undefeatable abomination, then I still have a chance. If I fail to break Xarion out of his confines, then I need to be present during her moment—and am counting on Candra’s arrogance to make that happen.
I’m too drained to reason it all now. But I will. We will. Phoenix and I will save Xarion.
It’s my only choice.
As Phoenix and I leave the Library and step into the city, my breath catches.
The paved streets are cracked. Broken limestone smolders in piles of ember. Monuments are defaced. Statues heads loped off at the neck. And lining the Canopic are crosses. Bodies nailed to the beams. Dried brown-tinged blood stains th
e wood below their bare, spiked feet.
“Don’t look,” Phoenix says. His hand covers my eyes as he lowers my head. “Look down and hide your face.”
But even with Phoenix masking the worst of the carnage, my gaze still travels over mutilated bodies; hands, torso, heads—victims of war that the Romans have yet to clear away.
A violent wave of sorrow washes over me and I choke on a sob.
I’ve witnessed violence and bloodshed before—have been the cause of it. I’m a guardian. I’ve been trained to be hardened against it. But this is my home. My people. I can’t overlook this massacre.
The sound of hammers pounding spikes into the crosses echoes through the boulevard, my insides juddering in rhythm. We pass the Soma, and the macehead of the pharaohs that adorned the Sun Gate lay broken on the thoroughfare. Hooks are grappled into the polished pink granite. Ropes dangle from the tetrapylon. I wonder if Octavian saw to the fall of our great city personally, doing the deed himself.
I wonder if he was strong enough to tear it down.
When we reach the door to Phoenix’s apartment, I glance over my shoulder, stilling my mind. Try to feel Candra.
“What are you doing?” Phoenix asks, ushering me inside the dark room.
“Looking for her.” I tug off the robe and settle down on his couch. “I know she can sense me.”
Phoenix searches his small eating area, then fills a goblet with watered wine. “Lunia gave our plans away, Star. That’s how the Leymak found us.”
I’m too tired to rehash the happenings between me and the enemy. And I don’t want to tread near Lunia. Candra may not have been able to locate my exact location in the desert without Lunia’s assistance, but within these walls, it’s only a short matter of time.
I pray we have enough.
“Trust me, Phoenix,” I say. “She knows I’m here. She knew I’d head straight for the city. Straight to Xarion.” I bow my head. A gust of air whips through the open window and a shiver wracks my body. “I just don’t know what she’s waiting for.”
Phoenix hands me the goblet along with a vile of clear liquid. Lavender tonic.
“Gods. Thank you.” I down the tonic and chase it with the red wine. Then I lie back, uncaring that I’m covered in filth.
Silence fills the room. It stretches between us. And as my eyes begin to shut, Phoenix breaks the quiet. “Antonius fell on his sword.”
“Isis,” I whisper. “And the queen?”
“She’s being held captive in the palace as Octavian’s prisoner.” He stretches out on his self-made bed of blankets and flops an arm over his eyes. “The battle was lost to Octavian quickly. Habi heard report that Cleopatra ended her own life once Octavian took control of the city. Habi said that Antonius didn’t even flinch, didn’t hesitate for one second before he drew his sword, knelt, and ran himself through.” He releases heavy breath. “He was brought to Cleopatra alive—and died in her arms.”
I wrap my arms around my midsection, as if I can guard against the anguish threatening to overwhelm me. “And what of Habi?”
Before Phoenix answers, he lowers his arm and angles his head toward me. “Habi was consumed with such guilt that he too took his life by sword.” He shakes his head. “The stories I’ve heard—”
He doesn’t have to complete his thought. I understand. Our world has been changed forever, and it’s too painful. I squeeze my eyes closed, my grief weighting my chest like a sack of bricks. I imagine Cleopatra heart-broken, cradling her husband. Then only to learn that the son she was desperate to get away from Octavian has been captured—
A tear slips down my check. I’ve failed her.
The linen curtains flutter in the breeze, soothing my fatigued mind. I allow the low, distant rhythm of the ocean to claim me for sleep.
At the sound of a bang, my eyes snap open.
Shouts and heavy footfalls surround the room. Before I rise, I summon my Charge—but am knocked back down as the pommel of a sword butts my head.
“Guardian Astarte. Guardian Phoenix. You’re hereby under arrest for the crime of treason against Rome.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The morning sun has yet to grace the sky. Pale violets and deep blues color the expanse against the ocean skyline, shading my tattered clothes in drab grays.
Phoenix and I march down the Street of the Soma with swords pointed at our backs. Six Narcolym Guardians accompany the numerous Roman soldiers as they steer us through the Alpha District. I should feel honored they view us such powerful threats as to warrant a procession. But I don’t feel anything but disgust. I pull the collar of my robe tighter around my neck to hide my necklace. I won’t lose it to these brutes.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, my vision unseeing, I try to ignore the crucified and the destruction. But it is everywhere. Isis, have mercy.
There is no plan. I knew when I set out for Alexandria that this was my fate. I’m only surprised it’s taken Candra this long to come for me. But she has, and now she’s summoning me to boast her great victory. She wants me to witness her transformation into a god.
I cut my eyes toward Phoenix. He strides with his head high, his slave armbands displayed proudly around his biceps, even though the other Narcos no longer bear ties to their previous binds. I’m torn between regret and gratitude. Regret that Phoenix is to be punished alongside me. Gratitude that he’s remains alongside me—that I’m not facing this alone.
In my last moments on this earth, I vow to somehow secure his escape. My friend won’t die if I can prevent it.
Our imprisoners navigate us toward the recently constructed Caesarium. Cleopatra had it commissioned to honor Caesar, and intended it to be her husband’s sanctuary—his own cult of worship. I know Octavian is in there. The Roman has chosen Caesar’s temple itself to declare his triumph. And as we’re traversed up the marble steps, I analyze every possible means of escape, every possible scenario of how to prevent the inevitable. But only one crippling truth is the outcome.
I’m not leaving here alive.
I’ll do what I must to save Xarion, and that means someone is going to have to sacrifice themselves for his freedom. I choose that to be me.
The high marble doors creek open, and we’re pushed inside. The scent of sandalwood and sage invades my senses; the scents of the gods. I wonder if Fadil is here. Though he must be distressed over Cleopatra’s defeat, still, I suspect he’s gloating as Octavian strips the city of its “sacrilege.” Tearing down statues and monuments of the hybrid Greco-Egyptian gods.
I suppose we shouldn’t have mocked the old sorcerer. His prophecy has come true.
Soon, Roman gods will adorn our great palaces and temples. With Octavian’s face replacing them all. And who knows how the Romans will document our story—our history. I scoff at the thought.
We’re sent to our knees before an altar. Phoenix bites out a curse.
A smoking copper burner scents the air, and my gaze follows the wisps as black pervades the misty gray beside them.
Candra.
As her form materializes, her face alights with conceit. Golden wire is weaved through her plaited hair. Machinate beads cap the ends. Her clothing looks as if she raided the queen’s wardrobe, choosing the most elegant Egyptian threads to prepare for crossing into immortality. She looks like the pharaohs of old. The gods.
I grit my teeth, suppressing the urge to tear the dress from her body, rip the beads from her hair.
She eyes me serenely, her lips tugging into a sickeningly sweet smile. But I’m not here for her pleasure, though she may think it. I give her little attention, a fact she visibly disdains, and search the central temple for Xarion.
Giant marble doors part from a side entrance, and four soldiers lead in what I can only assume is the Roman Octavian. For all our troubles, I’m disappointed. I expected a giant. A god-like man, fierce and commanding. This man, though certainly attractive, is almost puny. Blond locks frame his young, tanned face, and his ears poke out a little too far
from his head.
Octavian tosses his crimson cape over one shoulder as he struts toward the center of the dais. “Bring the boy,” he orders, and the soldiers open the temple door.
My heart jumps in my throat. I crane my head to watch as Roman soldiers and two Leymak usher in Xarion. My eyes hurriedly inspect his body, searching for wounds, bruises, broken bones. Only I can’t help needing to see his eyes immediately—feel them on me. Other than a blackened eye, he’s not harmed. I release a repressed breath, able to breathe again.
“Star!” Xarion shouts. He struggles against the cuffs binding his wrists. The soldier gripping his restraints yanks the chain. He’s pulled to a stop and pushed on to his knees before the dais.
An ache closes around my throat, begging words to leave my mouth. But I hold my tongue. Instead, I meet his gaze and smile. It’s a bittersweet movement as my lips tremble into forced place. I’ll save you.
Octavian steps to the edge of the dais, forcing Xarion’s attention on him. Shaking his head, Octavian sighs. “Oh, Caesarion. Two Caesars are simply too many.”
The pit of my stomach roils with terror. He can’t kill him now. Not now. My lips part to draw Octavian’s attention, but Xarion’s quicker.
Pulling against his manacles, Xarion gets to his feet. Even though Octavian stands upon the dais, Xarion rises to look him directly in the eyes. “You’ve secured your throne, Octavian. Let the guardians go. They’re no threat to you.”
My heart plummets. I know how difficult it is for Xarion to set aside his pride and make a request of Octavian. But he has. For me. Not now, I plead to the gods surrounding me in stone form.
Octavian averts his gaze and eyes me and Phoenix. “You mean release the traitors?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe I can do that by law, Caesarion.”
“Why not? Are you not powerful enough to make the laws?” Xarion’s attempt to chide the Roman is met with a sneer from Octavian.
Composing his features, Octavian chuckles. “Oh, I am. Be assured. But just as it does the people no good to have whores making false claims, I’m afraid I can’t allow traitors to live under my rule.”
Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians) Page 15