Daughter of Egypt

by Constance O'Banyon

  Jamal avoided her eyes, which swam with tears. “Be assured I will not rest until she is found, Mistress.”

  Queen Cleopatra stood on her balcony, her unadorned ebony hair rippling in the wind blowing off the Mediterranean. She lowered her head in sadness, clutching the leather-skin message she had just received from Lady Larania.

  The Tausrat family had stood at her side in those dark days when she had returned to Egypt after Caesar’s death. At that time, she had fallen into deep mourning because she’d lost the man she loved, and with his passing, their plans for the future of a world ruled by Egypt and Rome. But always in her grief, Lady Larania had been at her side, as had the rest of the family. Thalia had been but a young girl at the time and had been a loving companion to Cleopatra’s son, Caesarion.

  As time passed, Cleopatra had emerged from her grief with the help of her half-sister, Danaë. Under Ramtat’s skillful guidance, Cleopatra had signed new trade agreements with old allies, and Egypt’s economy now thrived. Because of the bounty from the Nile, Egypt had two growing seasons; therefore, Egyptian grain filled the bellies of half the world, and Cleopatra’s coffers were full.

  She owed the Tausrat family more than her life.

  Cleopatra heard footsteps and turned to face Mark Antony. She held her hand out to him and he gently pulled her into his strong arms. Nestling against his shoulder, she felt sheltered from the world, and for the moment, from her troubles.

  Antony was of medium height, not tall as Caesar had been, but to Cleopatra, he cast a long shadow. He was not the unimpeachable architect of war that Caesar had been, but she loved Antony more deeply than she had ever loved any man. She ran her hand through his curly black hair, thinking he had a face and body that attracted the attention of women. He had scars and battle wounds, but those only intrigued her more. He was a relentless warrior, and since Caesar’s death, Antony had become one of most powerful men in the world—a power he shared with Caesar’s sickly nephew, Octavian. Antony was a battle-hardened soldier respected by the armies, and therein lay his real power.

  At the moment Cleopatra had an uneasy alliance with Rome. But she was confident Antony would one day take the whole of Rome under his control, and together the two of them would rule the world.

  Antony smiled tenderly down at her and traced her cheek with his thumb. “Why is it you grow more beautiful each time I see you?”

  “Perhaps it is because you love me more with the passing of time—I know that is how it is with me.”

  He lay his rough cheek to her smooth one. “To think I almost lost you when I returned to Rome. How bleak that time was without you at my side. I feared you would never forgive me for my mistake.”

  “If you speak of your marriage to Octavia, I was hurt and angry at the time, never wanting to look upon your face again.”

  “And you made me suffer for it. Poor Octavia, she had no husband in me—my thoughts were always of you.”

  “My real anger came from the fact that you allowed Octavian to trick you into marrying his sister. He thought he could control you through her and make you forget me.”

  “Yet it had the opposite effect.” Antony raised her face to his. “I want to live every day beside you, and when death claims me, let you be at my side.”

  “My dearest love,” Cleopatra said, her gaze moving over his beloved face. “I never knew love could hurt so much. It tears at my heart like thorns.”

  “I set Octavia aside, and you are now my wife. Does that not prove my love for you?”

  She searched his dark eyes and saw love shining there. “I have no doubt that you love me, but our marriage is not recognized in Rome. In the eyes of the Senate, you are still married to Octavia.”

  He placed his arm about her waist and turned them both toward the sea. “You do not know what suffering is. I was tormented while you were with Caesar. I was never jealous of anything he had, with the exception of you.”

  “I loved Caesar,” she admitted, “but not with the all-consuming love that I feel for you.” She knew in her heart that Antony would never have Caesar’s driving ambition, but she had enough ambition for them both. It took so little to guide Antony gently in the right direction. “I have never told you this, but when you sent for me to come to you at Tarsus, I had my barge prepared with every luxury and went in hopes of seducing you. In truth, you seduced me, and I felt love such as the world has never known.”

  “You seem troubled tonight,” Antony observed. “What is the matter?”

  She focused on the great lighthouse and the beacons that swept far out to sea, guiding ships to Alexandria’s shores. “You know of the Tausrat family.”

  “Aye. My general, Marcellus, married a daughter of the family.”

  “News reached me tonight that the youngest daughter has been kidnapped right here on the streets of Alexandria.”

  Antony stiffened. “How could such a thing happen? Surely she had guards with her.”

  Cleopatra told him all she knew. “I have sent men to sweep the city and try to determine what happened.”

  “What have they discovered?”

  “Many people in the marketplace saw Lady Thalia captured, but no one recognized the man, or knew where he took her.”

  “Would you like me to send Roman troops to help find her?”

  Cleopatra turned to him, clutching his tunic. “Please. Lady Thalia is a favorite with me and is sister-in-law to my beloved Danaë, the only family I have left. Though she was but a child when Caesar was assassinated, Thalia almost lost her life in an attempt to help save him from death.”

  “Then most certainly I shall order my men to scour the city and ask questions from house to house. Surely someone will have seen something.”

  “I fear for her. Who has done this, and why?”

  Antony’s arms tightened about her. “No one can disappear completely. Have you posted guards at every road leading out of the city?”

  “A mouse could not slip through without detection.” Cleopatra frowned. “When I find who has done this, I shall crush him!”

  “And I shall help you.”

  Chapter Ten

  The full moon was riding high as Ashtyn flattened his body against the sand, motioning Captain Darius forward. The stone pit just ahead looked deserted but for the dying campfire. Ashtyn spied the two guards posted outside a small tent and smiled to himself.

  “That’s their camp,” he told his companion. “Make your way around to their horses and untie their hobbles so we can drive them away. I don’t want them chasing us after they discover the princess is missing.”

  “Aye, Commander,” Captain Darius said, looking troubled. “ ’Tis a pity we had to leave our supplies back in Alexandria.”

  “There was no time to go for them. We had to rescue the princess from Turk.” Ashtyn glanced up at the moon and watched a cloud pass under it, casting the night in deep shadows. “Go now!” he commanded, jumping to his feet and hurrying silently toward the limestone quarry.

  Thalia laid awake for hours, acquainting herself with the sounds around her. She heard a man cough just outside the tent, and later she heard the changing of the guards. It was futile to think she could escape—they were watching her too closely. When weariness swamped her, she could no longer keep her eyes open and fell asleep.

  At first her sleep was dreamless, but suddenly she groaned, reliving her childhood nightmare. She was jarred awake when a hand clamped over her mouth and strong arms dragged her to her feet.

  “Do not make a sound,” an accented voice hissed near her ear. “Not one sound—nod if you understand.”

  Through her terror, Thalia managed to give a small nod.

  Gripping her arm, he forced her to the back of the tent where moonlight poured through a wide slit. Although she had not seen the man’s face, she knew he was the intruder who’d come into her garden. Turk had called him the Destroyer. And now she was his prisoner.

  When they cleared the tent, he lifted Thalia in his arms, caut
ioning, “Do not utter a word.”

  Thalia’s throat was closed off with fear, and she couldn’t have made a sound if her life depended on it. She lay frozen in his arms as he carried her up the hill to where another man was waiting with three horses. The clouds that covered the moon drifted away, and Thalia saw that her captors wore Bedouin head-coverings and robes, though they were not desert dwellers.

  Thalia tried to wriggle out of the man’s arms. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You have been warned to remain silent,” he whispered fiercely, his grip tightening on her arm. “Say nothing more—is that understood ?”

  Thalia nodded. Now was not the time to rebel against this man. But she was not beaten, as he would discover.

  She was compliant when he lifted her onto one of the horses, then she watched him toss her reins to his companion while he mounted his own horse.

  “I suppose you can ride,” he whispered. “I saw you drive the chariot and aptly control those great beasts without trouble.”

  “I can ride,” she answered haughtily.

  Instead of heading in the direction of Alexandria as Thalia expected them to, they rode directly toward Turk’s encampment. The man who rode beside Thalia gave a loud yell when they neared Turk’s horses, scattering the animals in every direction.

  As they rode past the camp, Thalia heard loud shouts as Turk’s men tried to pursue them on foot. The camp came to life, and men chased after them as they galloped into the night.

  Thalia was holding tightly to the reins and kept her legs clamped around the belly of her horse so she wouldn’t be unseated. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, but her words were carried away by the brisk wind.

  They rode silently until the first streaks of daylight illuminated the landscape. When they stopped, her captor dismounted, then reached up to her and placed her on the ground.

  “We will walk and rest the animals,” he told her.

  Thalia was taken by surprise when he halted, reached for her and studied her face. “Who hit you?” he demanded.

  So much had happened, Thalia had forgotten how much her jaw hurt. “What concern is it of yours?”

  His thumb ran smoothly over her injured jaw. “It matters,” he said, as his eyes burned into her. “Turk will pay for this.”

  Thalia wondered why this man should care. At the moment her pain was her least worry. She was so weary she stumbled, and the man reached for her, keeping a steadying grip on her arm.

  “We will walk but a little farther.” He shook his head. “This desert seems limitless. Is there no end to it?”

  “I hope you lose your way and have to wander aimlessly for years,” Thalia told him.

  “Aye, I know what you think of me. I would be grateful, however, if you would keep such thoughts to yourself.”

  Thalia stopped to shake the sand out of her shoes.

  The man frowned as he saw her dainty sandals, meant more for fashion than function. “You are certainly ill-prepared for the desert.”

  She stared at him in amazement. “You will forgive me,” she said, “but when I dressed this morning, I had no notion I would be kidnapped twice and taken into the desert against my will.”

  Thalia turned and stalked away as best she could in her flimsy sandals, sand pouring through the straps with each step she took.

  Her throat felt parched and she shivered from the cold.

  The Destroyer, which was the only name Thalia had for him, caught up with her and gave her a hard look. “Why did you not tell me you were cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he removed his outer robe and draped it about her.

  Thalia’s first thought was to throw off the robe, but the warmth of it seeped into her body, and she reconsidered. “I scorn your concern. Why would you care how I feel?”

  His tone was deep and heavily accented when he spoke, “I care.”

  “Then may I please have a drink?”

  The Destroyer snapped his fingers at the other man. “Bring the waterskin.”

  After Thalia satisfied her thirst, she thought about her situation. Turk had refused to listen to her pleas, and she felt this man would as well. But she had to try to reason with him. “Will you take me home to my family?”

  He paused for a moment before he said, “That is not our destination.”

  “Then take me to Queen Cleopatra. Allow her to hear your story, if indeed your story is the same as Turk’s.”

  “You talk too much. Voices carry in the desert.”

  Thalia unfastened the amulet from her upper arm and held it out to him. “Take this and let me go, and I’ll find my own way back to Alexandria. Look closely at the workmanship,” she said, shoving the amulet toward him. “It’s very valuable; the gold and gems are real.”

  The sun was rising higher, but she couldn’t see much of the man’s face, which was still covered by the Bedouin headpiece.

  “Do not think you can tempt me with jewels. All that you have belongs to you, and no one will take it from you. Come, we must resume our journey.”

  Thalia dropped to her knees. “I refuse to go one step farther until you tell me where you are taking me.”

  Without ceremony, the man lifted her onto her horse and climbed onto his. “You have no choice in the matter.”

  Thalia had the feeling the Destroyer was much more dangerous than Turk.

  Chapter Eleven

  As the morning sun rose higher in the sky, the heat became unbearable. The horses were lathered and had slowed to a walk. After a silent gaze into the distance to make certain they were not being followed, Ashtyn gave a quick nod, indicating they should dismount. “Let us rest the animals.”

  He stood on the sand and reached up for Thalia, but she pushed his hand away and slid off the horse on her own. Stretching her stiff muscles, she glanced at the distant sand dune. If anyone was tracking them, they were staying out of sight.

  Thalia was thirsty, and when she reached for a waterskin, she saw there were only two, and the one she lifted was only half-full. She frowned with concern. Surely these men must know this was not enough water to keep them and the animals alive until they reached the first village.

  Hot sand sifted into her sandals, making it uncomfortable for her to walk. Thalia leaned against the horse and lifted the long robe so she wouldn’t stumble as she trudged along. Once she had to pause to empty the sand and retie her shoes, while the two man waited patiently for her to continue.

  Gazing sideways at the Destroyer, Thalia studied him, but she looked away quickly when his silver eyes stared back at her. “Where are you taking me?”

  He gave her a perfunctory gaze, his mouth set in a firm line. “I will tell you all when the time is right.”

  “I am not asking if you are taking me to my so-called ‘grandfather’ or my ‘cousin.’ What I’m asking is where are you taking me today? You do have a plan, do you not?”

  Ashtyn sighed in exasperation, unaccustomed to having to explain his decisions to anyone. “We are headed for the village of Osage, where the Nile meets the sea. A ship will be waiting offshore to take us aboard.”

  “Since we are crossing the desert, you should have been better prepared. I know the village well. Be warned, you do not have enough water to reach Osage.”

  When the Destroyer spoke, he sounded irritated. “I did not have time to make plans,” he admitted. “When we discovered Turk had taken you captive, I had to act fast, or he would have whisked you out of Egypt before I could stop him.”

  “It matters little to me whether I am your prisoner or his, except that he was better prepared.” Thalia nodded at the sky where a hawk circled. “If I had the wings of that bird, I would fly home and leave the two of you to die of thirst. It would be no more than you deserve.”

  The man frowned. “It does matter that you are under my protection, and no longer in Turk’s power.”

  Her eyes focused on the signet ring the Destroyer wore on his right hand. It was a thick band of gold, with a noble’s crest that h
ad a red shield with a golden arrow through it. Unlike Turk, who was a servant, this was no ordinary man. “Please help me. I know nothing about the island Turk told me about, and I don’t care about any of the people who fight against each other. I want to go home.”

  He said nothing.

  Ashtyn was aware of every breath Thalia took. In truth, he was so aware of her, he could think of nothing else. For years she had been real to him, while she had never known of his existence. He closed his eyes and thought of what her presence on the island would mean to the people, though she had just admitted she cared nothing about them.

  And why should she? She was merely a pawn between two rival factions in an island kingdom far from her home. Ashtyn’s life was tied to hers by a pledge she didn’t even know existed, and she saw him only as the enemy.

  She stumbled, but her eyes dared him to touch her. Ashtyn ached inside, knowing she was bone-weary, yet he was forced to push her beyond endurance. His gaze fell on her shapely lips, and he wanted to press his mouth against them. She belonged to him, and he to her. As he stared at her beautiful face, the ache inside him became deeper. He swallowed hard, knowing she despised him. While he … what did he feel for her?

  He was a commander of men and knew how to fight a battle and bring down his enemy, but he was at the mercy of the desert, having no experience with arid land. He ground his teeth, fearing that he must seem like a total imbecile to her.

  They walked for a time in silence, the big man trudging behind them. When Thalia looked at the man beside her, he seemed angry about something, but little she cared—she was angry herself.

  Finally, Thalia could hold her tongue no longer. “You are apparently not accustomed to the desert, else you would know that if we don’t soon reach shade and water, we shall all perish.”

  That got his attention.

  “I already told you when I saw Turk had captured you, I was forced to rescue you and had no time to gather supplies,” he said in exasperation.