Daughter of Egypt

by Constance O'Banyon

  She looked up at him. “When my family discovers where you’ve taken me, I expect Egypt will not find Bal Forea too insignificant to bother with.”

  “You are probably right,” he agreed. “We have considered that possibility since discovering how close your ties are to Queen Cleopatra.”

  Thalia glanced back over her shoulder and noticed some of the crewmen were leaning against the railing and staring at her. “I wish they would not treat me in such a manner. It’s very disconcerting.”

  “You have to understand that the poor man who fell on his knees before you was struck dumb by the honor. It is not every day one of your subjects comes face-to-face with the real, live woman they thought was a legend.”

  In disgust, she turned back toward the railing. The air was hot and moist, but not unpleasant. “I am but a few short years from my childhood. How can I be their rescuer, when I cannot even save myself?”

  “ ’Tis a daunting task that is set before you.” He turned her to face him and said with sincerity, “I stand ready to help you in any way I am able.”

  She was quiet for a moment as she watched the wind sift through his long black hair. He was dressed in magnificent red and silver armor with the black hawk of Bal Forea engraved on the breastplate. “I have been reading the history of Bal Forea and it is quite fascinating. Since Greek is the language of the island, I was surprised to find the history was in Latin.”

  “Your grandfather had that done for you. Of course, at the time he thought you were in Rome, thus the Latin translation.”

  Thalia let out her breath, secretly pleased.

  “Your grandfather hoped you would arrive at Bal Forea knowing something about its people.”

  She was coming to the conclusion that she could not rail against everyone who called her ‘highness’, or those who referred to their king as her grandfather. “I am curious about something, Count. If the history is a true one, the people of your island are supposedly descendants of Atlantis.”

  “That is fact.”

  “There are scholars in Egypt who argue that Plato’s account of Atlantis is fiction.” The ship was sailing out of sight of Capreae, but Thalia hardly noticed. “I always believed his account was true. I don’t know why.”

  Ashtyn studied her face for a long moment. “You are more than we thought you would be. There is no woman on Bal Forea who can read both Egyptian and Latin. It is rare to find a woman who can read at all. No doubt you have already discovered that your maid Eleni speaks many languages but does not read.”

  “All in my family read, be they male or female.”

  “The Tausrat family is truly admirable.”

  “I have turned my attention to learning Greek. Eleni has been most helpful.” Thalia stared at the disappearing landmass. “And I have enjoyed the history of Bal Forea, but I know little of the present. Can you tell me about the island?”

  He gave her a charming smile that melted her heart.

  “It would be my pleasure. Shall I begin with our ancestors who survived the destruction of Atlantis?”

  “Please.”

  Ashtyn was watching the way the sun played across her golden hair, and almost became distracted. “Try to imagine a people who had lost everything. Then think of them washing up on the shores of an inhospitable and uninhabited island. Imagine their grief at their loss, and how they were forced to make a life for themselves. They had no tools and had to dig with their hands to plant crops. King Talystar, who had been the youngest and was the only survivor of the royal family, united the people and guided them through many hardships. Because of his bravery and courage, most of them survived.”

  Thalia was silent as she pondered what Ashtyn had told her. “It would be wonderful if it was true. But your people seem to fabricate royals where there are none.”

  “But suppose for a moment you have been chosen to save your people, just as King Talystar was.”

  “Do not make that comparison.” Thalia clamped her hands over her ears. “I will not hear of it.”

  “Very well. What would you like to speak of?”

  “Tell me what you know of the woman who is supposed to be my mother.”

  He let out his breath. “There is a fountain room at the palace with a statue of Princess Jiesa. I have oft been drawn to that room to stare at her likeness.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He glanced down at her and frowned. “How can a man say what draws him to a woman?”

  “Surely you were not drawn to my mother.”

  His gaze swept over her face, resting on her lips. “Nay, not her—she is carved out of cold marble.” His voice grew deep. “It was a flesh-and-blood woman I thought of.”

  Thalia felt a catch in her throat. Suppose this was her mother. “Describe her to me.”

  Ashtyn’s hooded gaze pierced hers, and he spoke so low Thalia wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “She is you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I saw you that night in the garden, I thought the statue of your mother had come to life.”

  Suddenly, a strange mood washed over Thalia, and she smiled up at him flirtatiously. “It is difficult to gather an image of a man who commands armies staring at a statue and believing it came to life in far-off Egypt.”

  He did not smile as he studied her face. “I saw how you beguiled those men the night I slipped into your garden. Is it not possible you did the same to me?”

  Thalia felt she was walking into trouble. “I beguiled no one, and least of all you. No doubt you are an important man on Bal Forea, but to me, you are merely my prison guard.”

  Their gazes locked, her eyes fiery with anger, his seeking and piercing.

  “Stand aside,” she said.

  And he did.

  Once in her cabin, Thalia kicked at a stool and sent it careening across the floor. “That man infuriates me!”

  Eleni was folding clothing and looked at Thalia inquiringly. “Do you speak of Count Ashtyn?”

  “Aye. If all your men on Bal Forea are like him, it must be a miserable place for your women.”

  “But, Highness, Count Ashtyn is considered the best of men. He has won many battles and brought glory to his name. So many of our women wish he would take notice of them.”

  “I can well imagine,” Thalia remarked sourly. “And most probably he gives them all a try.”

  “Nay, dear lady, he is too often leading our men into battle. He is a dedicated general who rides at the front of his men, not at the rear like others before him.”

  “You are one of his admirers.”

  “Who would not be?”

  Thalia nodded. “Indeed. Who would not?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As the days passed, Thalia began to look forward to the hours she spent on deck. The War Bird was swift and sleek, and she loved the feel of the wind in her hair and the tangy taste of salt on her tongue.

  She’d been told poor Captain Darius spent most of his time below deck, too ill leave his bunk. Thalia was spending more time with Ashtyn and discovering he had a sense of humor. She learned he had no family, and it saddened her when he spoke of how his mother and sister had died in a siege on their villa. His father had been killed at the head of the king’s army, and Ashtyn had taken his father’s place.

  That particular day, Thalia was seated in the shade while Ashtyn sat with his back braced against the stern.

  “How does your island differ from my Egypt?” she asked, as she rolled a scroll she’d been reading.

  Ashtyn’s laughter was warm and sent shivers across her skin. “As you already know, I was not prepared for your desert. You recall very well how you had to save Captain Darius and myself from dying of thirst. We have no arid land.”

  Thalia smiled with gratification. “So you admit you made a mistake?”

  He nodded with good grace. “Utterly.”

  Ashtyn wore his black hair loose about his handsome face, and Thalia could only stare at him. She had littl
e doubt he’d set out to charm her, and for the most part, had succeeded better than he knew. She found herself fascinated by his hands—his fingers were long and lean, and she had already felt the strength of them. They were not the hands of a courtier, but of a man who wielded a sword in defense of his country. Earlier that morning, when he’d handed her the scroll, their fingertips had accidently touched, and they both quickly withdrew their hands.

  For the moment, Ashtyn was staring across the deck, watching a man scrub the wood until it gleamed. Thalia watched his lips compress, and she felt weak all over just thinking what it would feel like to have that mouth touch hers. The thought of it made her feel giddy. There were times when she wanted to lay her head against those broad shoulders and have him hold her close and tell her everything was going to be all right, that she would one day see her family again.

  She lowered her head, distressed that she should have such longings for Ashtyn. “Insomuch,” she said, bringing the conversation back to the island, “as you have no desert on Bal Forea, it is no wonder you did not know how dangerous it can be for those without water.”

  He swung his head back to her. “There is beauty on Bal Forea. You will see enclaves that sweep inward from a sea that is as blue as your eyes.” He studied her eyes for a moment before continuing. “On the side of the island where we will go ashore, the capital city, Harjah, shines like a red jewel in the sun. That is, if you don’t look too close and see the scars left by years of war.”

  “Tell me of the palace.”

  He smiled. “It stands on raised ground and is surrounded by two courtyards with high walls. I noticed many of the houses in Egypt are built of mud-brick. On Bal Forea the houses are build of red stone because the quarries on the island are red. There are high mountains that have snow on their peaks even in the hottest season. It is an island of contrast, for there are also date palms, orange groves and farms. The capital city produces the finest date wine in all the world, and the most succulent oranges you will ever taste. I will ask you if my boast is true when you have tasted them.” His brow knitted. “Of course, there is no one to tend the crops, and many of the trees have died. Most of our fields have gone untended since the beginning of the war.”

  “How can this be? Do the people not know that armies need food to win victories?”

  She watched his silver-blue gaze sharpen.

  “The fields are barren because Sevilin’s troops have been particularly brutal in their attacks on the farmers. The rebels indiscriminately burn crops and kill whole families. Sevilin sent men to burn our fishing fleet, and warned both the fishermen and the farmers that if any took up the hoe or the fishnet, they would be the first to die.”

  Unexpectedly, tears stung the back of Thalia’s eyes, and a tight knot formed in her throat. She felt anger growing inside her. “That is monstrous! It is one thing to make war on trained soldiers, but to wage war on helpless citizens is an abomination. That man could not care for the people if he is willing to see them die.”

  “He came close to realizing his plan. The people were hungry and ready to give up until the king intervened.” Ashtyn looked down at her. “Whatever you may think of your grandfather, he has always put the good of his people before his own. He sent men he could not spare to guard the farms. His Majesty opened his treasury and sent ships to buy grain and foodstuff from other countries.” Ashtyn closed his eyes as if he were remembering the horror of that time. “Our citizens came close to being wiped out completely.”

  Thalia stared at him for a long moment, trying to imagine the hopelessness the citizens must have felt. “And did the king’s gold save them?”

  “Aye, it did, but only for a time. Those who were ill or old or too young did not survive. Our men mustered beneath Bal Forea’s banner and sought the enemy in their fortresses. We flushed them out of caves, burned their hideouts and had them on the run.”

  Thalia leaned forward, not realizing she’d placed her hand on his arm. “And who is winning the war at this time?”

  “When I left, the king. But it is far from over. The palace is filled with a network of spies, and the streets are dangerous at night.” He placed his hand over hers. “That is why we are in desperate need and hold you as our hope. Sevilin knows this as well.”

  Thalia was silent as she considered all he had told her, not realizing she had laced her fingers through his.

  “May the gods come to the aid of the citizens. Kings wage war, and it is the common man who suffers.”

  He raised her hand and pressed his mouth to it. “The wisdom of your grandfather is in you.” His voice whispered through the air. “There are many who already love you.”

  Thalia drew in her breath, her fingers tingling. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his clasp. “I am but a young woman. The problems you described must be left to wiser heads than mine.”

  Ashtyn stood, offering Thalia his hand. “I believe that concludes your lesson for today.”

  Thalia was learning that Ashtyn could be two different men: He was the soldier honed hard with a merciless will of stone, but he could also be soft-spoken, fascinating—capable of entrapping his victim with words. Each hour she spent with him served to break down the wall she had built. The king had chosen well when he sent his general after her.

  As they strolled toward the companionway, she said, “While I understand the troubles your people face, it does not fall to me to help them. I still want to go home.”

  His jaw tightened, and he turned away from her. “You have said this all too many times,” he muttered.

  “Then you should listen to me.”

  Ashtyn watched her walk away, knowing his heart cried out for her, and that her heart did not answer.

  Captain Normah approached Ashtyn, and they both watched Thalia disappear down the companionway.

  The captain breathed a sigh. “It grieves me to see her so unhappy. She reminds me so of her mother.”

  Ashtyn was curious. “You knew her mother?”

  Captain Normah rubbed his chin in thoughtfulness. “Aye. She was always happy and smiling. Then the day came when her heart turned to the captain of the guard, and tragedy followed. I do not like to mention this, but the people were in dire need when she fled the island with her lover. Many say she thought only of herself. But what will a woman not do when she loses her heart?”

  Ashtyn shook his head. “I don’t believe her daughter will easily succumb to matters of the heart.”

  The captain solemnly stared at the gathering clouds in the east. “She is even more comely than her mother. Men will love her for her beauty, but I have watched her,” Captain Normah said, nodding to himself. “She has beauty of the heart—is that not right?”

  “I have never known a woman who equals our Princess Thalia,” Ashtyn remarked, as Captain Darius joined their group.

  “Does she not know King Melik has chosen you for her husband?” Darius asked.

  Ashtyn gripped the railing until his knuckles were white. “Nay, she does not. I would have you say nothing more on that subject lest you be overheard, and word reach her ears. The princess barely tolerates me as it is. Let her grandfather tell her. She will refuse the marriage, and there will be an end to it.”

  Darius gave a great belly laugh. “How are you going to let the princess go when you cannot keep your eyes from her?”

  “She will not be allowed to reject the marriage,” Captain Normah observed. “The king will see to that.”

  Ashtyn paused for a moment and put in words what the others may have suspected: “The king is dying.”

  “Then the rumors are true,” the captain remarked, lowering his voice. “Pray Sevilin does not hear of it.”

  Ashtyn agreed with a nod. “Ask the gods to give us fair wind and a full sail so we can reach Bal Forea while his majesty yet lives.” He walked away, seeking solitude.

  For so long his attention had been centered on war and the survival of Bal Forea. But of late, those blue eyes of Thalia’s kept cre
eping into his thoughts at the oddest moments. He had no time to think of a woman, especially not this one. She had accomplished something no other woman ever had—she made him want her with an ache that stayed with him day and night.

  Doubtless trouble would fly in his face when the king informed Thalia he expected her to marry his general.

  By the gods, he dreaded that day.

  Ashtyn was playing a game of jackals and hounds with Captain Normah when Thalia approached him the next morning. Both men quickly rose to their feet and bowed.

  “Excuse me Count Ashtyn, may I have a word with you?”

  “Of course,” he said, nodding at the captain, who was already scooping the game pieces into a case.

  Ashtyn took Thalia’s arm and led her toward the bulkhead, where they could speak in private. “How may I serve you?”

  “Will you help me with my Greek?”

  He hid his smile. “It would be my honor. Your grandfather will be happy if you can greet him in his own language.”

  “It’s just that … I do not … it will be awkward to be in a country where I do not speak the language.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “And it is as if somewhere in my past, Greek was not unknown to me.”

  He was surprised at her admission. “That is probably because you spoke it as a child.”

  “You were playing a game with the captain when I disturbed you.”

  “I was losing when you came to my rescue. Let us find a comfortable place and begin now.”

  A shade was erected near the bulkhead, and Thalia met Ashtyn there each day for her lessons. Amazingly, the language came to her easily. There were times when Thalia would know the word before Ashtyn spoke it.

  As the days and weeks slipped by, Thalia found herself more relaxed in Ashtyn’s company. He was a patient teacher, and they were soon holding conversations in Greek.

  In the back of her mind she could hear a voice, the old nurse, speaking to her in the same language.

  Another clue to her past.

  Even though the notion grew in her mind that she might indeed be the missing princess, she would never admit it to Ashtyn.