Astarte's Wrath (12 page)

His fingers twine with mine, and he releases a heavy breath. Looking at our interlocked hands, he says, “You were right before.”

Curious, I raise my eyebrows.

“About me. About being scared to become King. I am, but I want you to understand that my fear has nothing to do with how I feel about you.” His gaze captures mine as the breeze pushes his dark bangs over his forehead. “I was so angry earlier tonight—and so much has happened since.” He tightens his hold on my hands, not knowing how true his statement is. “I wasn’t able to finish explaining. There’s another option, Star. I’ve discovered a way for us to be free and remain here—together.”

My chest tightens. Those words should make everything better—should shut out the rest of the world, leaving only Xarion and me. But so much talk of freedom and war and Xarion’s imminent demise . . . it’s like a blast of Charge to my heart.

“Fadil’s
was
scepter can reverse the sorcerers’ doing. It can make you human. Fadil can’t work the magics, but I won’t stop delving deeper until I can. I’ll prove that even though yes, I fear my role as Pharaoh, I’m not trying to shirk my duties by wanting to be with you. I plan to go before the Council and declare my feelings. It’s my choice who I love, and who is slave and who is free. Hades. It doesn’t matter, because if they still do not accept us after you’re human—”

“I can’t hear this,” I say, and step out of his comforting touch. “Not right now.”

His eyes darken. They sharpen as he stares at me, then his head shakes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” His features glaze over in humiliation. “You don’t feel the same.” He turns toward a statue of Isis, his gaze unseeing. “I’ve been pouring my heart out, confessing my feelings for you—and I’m so blind.”

“That’s not it,” I say quickly.

He shakes his head again and starts toward the walkway. “I’m a fool.”

My heart skitters to a stop, my mind searching for a way to make him understand. As much as I care for him, this situation is bigger than us. Octavian might accept the king of Egypt fleeing, leaving him the throne. Or the Council might accept me as Xarion’s equal, and grant us permission to be together. But the Leymak will accept none of the options Xarion presents. If Candra is denied the
was
scepter—her chance at immortality—not even the deserts will hide us away. The Leymak will search for Xarion, and we’ll run forever. Like Sinuhe—only we will never find a safe haven.

I can’t simply choose to become human and give up my power when he needs my protection now more than ever. Not until the Leymak and Octavian are defeated, and the threat against Xarion’s life is gone, can I ever think of myself.

It’s not the way I was raised. And it’s so much more than the ink engraved on my skin.

“Xarion,” I say, desperation leaking into my voice, halting his quick march away from me. “Trust me when I say my feelings for you”—I pause, battling a war within myself between what I want to say and what I
need
to say—“I have never loved another.”

I stop short of admitting aloud that I love him. He must know, he has to, but if I have any hope of convincing him of what needs to be done, I can’t voice the full extent of my emotions.

Hope crests in his eyes, clear and bright, and I loathe myself for my next admission. “But we can’t—I cannot allow you to dishonor your birthright. Nor can I live with the knowledge that if anything happens to you, it will be my fault. Please, don’t ask me to bear that.”

A solemn, defeated look washes over his face, and with a jerky nod, he says, “I will honor your request.” Then he turns to go.

His clipped response to my plea ices my heart, and I breathe shallowly through the pain. But what did I expect? For the king of Egypt to thank me for my lovely words when their ending result is rejection?

My gaze lingers on him as he walks out of the garden—away from
us
.

Chapter Ten

A
month has passed,
and still no word comes from Actium.

The Council has sent messages by ship across the Mediterranean, trying to make contact with Cleopatra. But they either come back unanswered or they don’t come back at all.

Candra’s taunt that Octavian has claimed victory over our queen haunts my every thought. I’m conflicted over whether I should lock Xarion in the palace until his mother’s return, or trust the gods to ensure his safety.

I fear the pressure mounting on the pharaoh to act in his mother’s stead, coupled with our falling out may drive him to desperate measures. I worry that he’ll consider becoming a martyr to save his family and city. Walk right out to the Leymak and surrender. Every time I see his face contort when the Council confronts him with a new problem, I feel as if I’m losing the man I love—slowly and irreplaceably—as he disappears into himself.

Every day that passes I’m getting closer to giving in; asking Xarion to do whatever it is that will free me of my binds, and accepting his offer to run away together. I could even ask Fadil to help us. For him to search the scrolls of the ancients to produce a spell that will mask us from the Leymak.

Then when Octavian comes, there will be no pharaoh to crucify.

Only my distrust of the sorcerer and my sense of duty keep me from fully considering it. I know Xarion better than he knows himself. He will regret leaving his family behind to war with Octavian—a war that falls solely on his shoulders because of who his father is.

I can’t allow us to begin a life together knowing that in time, guilt over his actions will destroy any love between us. He has to face his trials. And I have to face them by his side, as his guardian.

His protector.

I long to confide the many worries pressing on me to someone. To vent and cry and punch to get them out of my system, if only for a moment, so my head will empty and I can reason clearly again. And though I believe my friends would listen without passing judgment, I’m hesitant to ask this of them. They seem to have their own private battles.

Phoenix has been strange ever since the Leymak attack on the palace. He continues to keep a close watch over his charges, but he’s stern and short-tempered where—even for a Narco—he’s usually light-hearted and patient with them.

Lunia is the opposite. She’s taken to guarding little Delphus as if he were her own. He’s never out of her sight for more than a moment, and she’s even excused the royal eunuch, placing herself in charge of food tasting for the young prince.

The attack has changed life at the palace. I fear we’re entering the eye of the storm—waiting for the other side of the storm wall to make landfall. It feels like only a matter of time before the brewing tension within Alexandria erupts.

And things between Xarion and me couldn’t be more wrong. Since the night he accepted my plea as rejection, he’s become even more distant. He doesn’t wait for me to escort him to council meetings or processions. He doesn’t ask for my advice. There are no more sly, seductive smiles, or secret handholding. There are no more passionate touches or simple, warm embraces, and I ache to be near him.

Instead, he’s accepted his position as Pharaoh. He treats me as I requested: a guardian. Dictating even the most mundane commitments to be carried out. And it’s cost him his once-spontaneity—that spark of mischief that used to infuse the palace and all those within it with joy.

His stubbornness used to be endearing. Now it’s off-putting. There’s a bitter edge to his addresses and commands. The Kythan, though they don’t—nor would they ever—voice a complaint, scowl behind his back. If Xarion doesn’t return to his former majesty, he’ll evoke a hatred of their servitude, like King Ptolemy did before Cleopatra took the throne.

I don’t want to see that happen to him.

To get away from the pressure building under the palace roof, I’ve stolen a day for myself and come back to my home. I get few of them, and I’ve never actually ignored my duties for an entire day, but my mind desperately needs distraction. Hopefully Xarion will listen to me just this once and stay near Phoenix while I’m on leave.

Rhakotis swarms with hunters of cheap sewing materials, fresh caught fish, and merchants to trade their valuables with. Children run barefoot, weaving through merchant stands, splashing in the watering fountains for the horses and camels. Their lighthearted laughter tugs at my heart as I stroll through the quarter’s small marketplace. For a time, Xarion and I could’ve been one of them. Innocent, carefree. Happy.

I peer over an awning-covered stand and pick up a scarab beetle amulet inlaid with lapis lazuli. It’s a rare find here in the poorer district. The pads of my fingers brush over the blue stone. “How much?”

The Jewish man scratches his bearded chin as his eyes rake me over. He’s debating how much I have to spend. I’m dressed in my royal guardian attire. His eyes widen as he spies my golden armbands.

“Never mind,” I say, dropping the amulet back to the table. “I’m not that interested.” Though I know Xarion would appreciate the sentiment behind the gift, as the beetle is given to offer protection, I can’t possibly give him a replica. My pride won’t allow it. He has access to the finest jewelry in Egypt, and though this artisan is very talented in his trade, I can tell the lazuli has been faked by its texture.

Before the proud businessman can haggle, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see Lunia dressed down in her day clothes. “Hey. Why aren’t you with Delphus?”

“Nice to see you, too.” She shakes her head.

“I see you every day.” Linking my arm through hers, I move us away from the curious eyes of the merchant. “What I meant was you’ve been so devoted to your charge lately. I didn’t think you’d take your leave.”

She shrugs, her shoulder nudging mine. “I need
us
time, away from that stale place.”

A small smile breaks across my lips. “Your hut or mine?”

“Mine’s closer.”

As we make our way toward Lunia’s apartment, I notice the hesitancy in the quarter that usually isn’t here. The poorer districts of Alexandria have their worries: food, shelter, disease. But there is always an abundance of life, gratitude, and the acknowledgement that we live in a prosperous city. The queen would never allow any of her people to starve or want for anything. And the people adore their goddess incarnate.

But the downturned faces and the sidelong glares that I receive heightens my awareness.

Lunia whispers near my ear. “There is much talk about the aftermath of the recent attack.” She glances around before continuing. “The word is Master Caesarion isn’t strong enough to lead a revolt on the cursed Leymak in the absence of his mother.”

A nauseating twinge pulls at my stomach. Judgment from his people was the very fear he voiced in the garden, only I was more concerned about keeping him away from the Leymak, safely behind the barrier. I’ve been so consumed with my duties in the palace that I haven’t spent much time among the people.

We turn on to the walkway leading to Lunia’s upstairs apartment. Ivy crawls along the walls of the building, and each courtyard is shaded by an awning and terebinth trees. The royal guardians live slightly better than the others; we’re not made to dwell in slave quarters.

“It’s not true,” I say, finally finding my voice on the peoples’ opinion of their pharaoh.

“I know. And I understand completely why we can’t go into battle right now. Why we must wait for Cleopatra. I trust Caesarion, and I trust you.”

She pushes her wooden door open, and I look at her. “Me?”

She laughs. “Star, I’m no fool. With as stubborn as Caesarion is, the only way he wouldn’t rush off to retaliate is because you told him not to.” She smirks. “You two are more transparent than you think.”

I raise my eyebrows, thinking Xarion may have heeded my advice some about not retaliating, but that was right after our complete falling out. As we stand now, he could order his guardians to war at any moment. He’s unpredictable. The fact that I don’t know, nor can predict his next course of action distresses me, and my chest aches. His protection lies in his trust of me.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, changing the subject. I’m tired of fighting my feelings for Xarion for one day.

Settling down on her cream couch next to the open terrace, Lunia gazes over her view of the paved shore. A grain ship docks near the long jetty that connects Pharos to the mainland. Sheer blue curtains blow in with the breeze, carrying the sounds of the harbor.

The draft lifts the dark strands of Lunia’s hair from her shoulders. “I’ve been told I’ll never bear children.”

Her announcement drops on top of me like a barrel of bricks. For a moment, I can only stare at her while she smooths out the pleats of her tunic. “I’m so sorry.” Moving beside her, I kneel and take her hand. “How did you discover this?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, I was chosen a while back to bond—before the battle in the desert. But . . .” She trails off, embarrassment taking over her soft features. “But after . . . it never happened. And believe me, we tried many times.” She laughs, her voice hollow. “The Council ordered me to see a midwife, and she discovered that there is something wrong with me.”