Astarte's Wrath (4 page)

I nod and glance at the floor. The swirls in the stone remind me of the sand whipping us in the red land. “There were shifters,” I say. “Some kind of new Kythan race. Octavian has brought something dark and extremely powerful into existence—maybe created right from the Primeval Waters. ” I look into his deep green eyes, dark and angry, as if staring into a violent sea. “We need to speak with Fadil.”

He uncrosses his arms and clenches his hands into fists. “What were they like?”

“I don’t know. They looked like Kythan, but their power—it’s something far different, more powerful. And they can go into the aether.”

A shadow falls across Xarion’s face. “Star, be truthful with me. Did they harm you?”

“No,” I say. “But if they manage to penetrate our simple barrier and get inside Alexandria, I fear the damage they could do. I don’t think they were using their full power, only testing us.” I bite the inside of my cheek, and Xarion runs a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s time to be a leader, Xarion. Octavian won’t stop until he sees you dead. He can’t prove his false claims about your father, so he’ll kill you to rid himself of any threat against his power.”

“Star, don’t worry so.” He closes the distance between us. His tan hands rub my pale arms, and the warmth of his skin ignites tiny flames beneath my skin. “This is the greatest city. And the Kythan are the greatest military defense. My mother will defeat his legions in Greece, and we’ll destroy them here.” His eyes seek mine. “Octavian will not succeed.”

I hold his intense gaze, wishing to believe his words. But the scene in the desert replays in my mind. If Octavian has created some powerful Kythan, there
is
a chance he will succeed. I can’t allow that to happen.

Stepping out of his comforting touch, I turn and say, “Let’s get you to your council, master.” And I take the lead ahead of Xarion as his guardian.

I hear the groan he releases, but choose to ignore him. He needs to get used to me as his protector. I know that in time Xarion will be a great pharaoh. And I intend for him to live to see that day.

The palace is teeming with servants and nobles, all abuzz with the news of the Leymak. They rush the corridors as I lead Xarion toward the sorcerer’s chambers. A few times, I have to push people out of our way, and they quickly bow and apologize to the pharaoh.

“The battle has caused more than the usual uproar.” Xarion quickens his pace, moving beside me.

I cast him a sidelong glance. “We just barely escaped.”

Once we reach Fadil’s rooms, I knock and enter. Xarion strides quickly toward Habi and Fadil standing near a carved screen of Amun-Ra. Fadil’s royal blue robe grazes the floor, the embroidered sleeves hanging loosely at his weathered wrists as he drinks from a golden cup. He sets it down and picks an olive from a black plate on the cedar table. Habi’s eyes briefly meet mine before he eyes Xarion.

“Master Caesarion,” Habi says, bowing his head.

“Habi,” Xarion addresses the general. “Star tells me of some new powerful race of guardians. Can you confirm their species?”

Habi’s eyes dart to me. He grips and twists his armbands, and looks at Xarion. “Yes, master. They were Kythan—Egyptian descent. They served Octavian’s legion. Which leads me to believe someone in his council, if not Octavian himself, created them.”

Xarion nods and looks to Fadil. “How can this be, sorcerer?” Fadil drops an olive as his attention finally snaps to the pharaoh. He smooths back the white remains of his wispy hair. “There’s only one amulet powerful enough to create such a species. And that amulet is in our possession.” Xarion crosses his arms, straightens his back. “Regardless if someone were to get hold of the scepter, it’s dormant, a relic. That Egyptian power hasn’t been tapped into since the ancients.”

“Are you accusing me, young pharaoh?” Fadil says, his voice throaty and dry.

Habi goes to step between them, but I shoot him a glare. His face hardens into sharp, scowling lines. It’s bothersome that he feels the need to defend the sorcerer over his master, and even more alarming that he may be able to do so. The power we wield binds us to the pharaohs only. Not our creators. He may be my general, but I am first the pharaoh’s guardian.

“I’m making no accusation against anyone, Fadil,” Xarion says. He pushes his sheer cape over one bronzed shoulder, and advances toward the sorcerer. “But Egypt has many enemies all vying to either see her destroyed or rule her. I’ll ask the questions that will elicit the answers I seek, and you’ll do well to remember who
your
ruler is.”

Fadil bows low, his blue robe touches the floor. “My apologies, Pharaoh.” When he rises, his features are stoic. “The news of another race, one which can access the aether, has set my defenses on high. I’m an old man. I must be allotted some leniency.”

“Understood, Fadil,” Xarion says. “Now what information have you on these Leymak?”

My chest constricts. I wish to ask the questions most plaguing me, but I patiently wait to hear what Fadil has to say on the matter. I take a seat nearest Xarion next to a black iron oil lamp.

Fadil lifts his head, looks Xarion in the eyes. “I fear a dark magic has been awoken, Pharaoh.”

“By who?” Xarion asks.

Adjusting his sleeves, Fadil lowers his gaze as he says, “The Egyptian gods are angered, and have set forth a race to cleanse Egypt.”

I stand, but Xarion speaks before I can, his voice warning. “Sorcerer. You speak blasphemy. Watch your words carefully.”

“The union of Greek gods with the Egyptian immortal ones is the ultimate blasphemy, Your Highness.” He lifts his chin and meets Xarion’s stare. “Though the Ptolemies believed they were honoring our gods and goddesses by merging our religion with theirs, in truth, the immortal ones take great offense.” Fadil’s eyes slit. “I feared something like this would happen soon—the stars have warned of it for some time. Octavian is only taking advantage of the problem we’ve created.”

Xarion scrubs his hand down his face. He’s never been patient with the preachings of religions, rather he believes man makes his own fate, not the gods. “So the immortal ones we praise and honor here, in Egypt, have blessed a
Roman
in order to purify Egypt of foreign religions.” He shakes his head. “That is ridiculous.”

Fadil shrugs. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, young pharaoh.”

Xarion glares at the sorcerer. “You use a foreign proverb to make your point?”

“Can we defeat the Leymak?” Habi asks, interrupting their quarrel.

“The gods will side with whoever chooses to honor them,” Fadil says. “It is fate, Habi. I suggest we meditate and purge Alexandria of all false worship. Only then will the immortal ones rebuke Octavian’s pursuits. We can choose to see this as a warning and adjust accordingly, or as an omen for our future.”

Xarion throws up his hands and groans. “There will be no removal of any religious items, Fadil. I fear this is only your distress over your weakening power at play, and as we’ve gone over before, your council is still valuable to the Ptolemies. But don’t push this matter further.”

Fadil’s pale eyes widen, fury simmering just beneath. He doesn’t respond to Xarion, but I know he’s riled the pharaoh mentioned his fading powers.

After he tamps down his anger, Fadil bows. “Yes, Pharaoh.”

Xarion nods once, then storms from the room.

I knew Fadil would have nothing to say that would help Xarion. They each come from very different times—very different beliefs. I fear they won’t be able to come to an understanding before the queen’s return. But I pray they
will
agree upon something before Octavian takes advantage of our divergence.

Chapter Four

I
respect the sorcerer,
as he’s one of my creators, but I’m not sure I trust his theory.

Candra’s voice comes back to me in haunting detail, her Egyptian lilt tinkling like bells.
Join us, sister, and become your own master
.

I agree there are dark forces at play—the aether can be used for good or evil—but Octavian is the one who stands to gain, not Egypt. The Ptolemaic rulers have not harmed Egypt, nor have they tried to strip our land of its wealth or heritage. Not like the Romans will do if Octavian succeeds in capturing it as a state for Rome.

How can our gods side with a foreign dictator against us?

Fadil’s mind must be off. Maybe old age has finally caught up to him. I shake my head, and turn down a long, silent corridor toward the palace entrance.

“Where are you running off to?”

It’s Xarion’s voice. I stop mid-step and say, “To find Phoenix. I need to speak with him.”

Xarion’s shadow grows longer along the floor and connects with mine. The torchlight from the iron candelabras cast the hallway in a fevered glow, warm and yet chilled by his presence.

“I thought I couldn’t be without my guardian?” he mocks.

Rubbing some of the leftover sand from my arm, I laugh. “You’d do well to seek out Lunia and not anger her. I appointed her as your guardian for the day, and she takes her duty far more seriously than I do.” That’s not true, and he knows it. I peek over my shoulder. The smirk on his face confirms this. “But I believe you’ll be safe long enough for my trip back to the mainland. Phoenix is probably off at the Emporium, awaiting the feast to begin.” I shake my head. “Gods. There are bigger issues in need of our attention.”

Capturing my wrist, Xarion turns me about. “Star, the Sekhmet feast must be celebrated. It’s one of the only things that I agree with Fadil on.” He rubs small circles along my wrist with his thumb. “Sekhmet demands to be soothed. And these Leymak, as you clearly voiced, were only testing us. They won’t attack Alexandria or—”

“But—”

“They won’t,” he says sternly. “If they are of Egyptian descent, they won’t attack during the feast because of their respect for the gods. Hades, why has no one thought to mention an alliance?”

My eyes squint, and I pull my arm free of his hand. “What do you mean? Try to bring them into our forces? They are rogues—as much as any rogue of Egypt. And are being controlled by someone who wishes to see Egypt fall. Who wishes to see you
dead
, Xarion.”

“But they are first created in the image of Set.” His green eyes flick over my face. “Like you, and all Kythan, they must worship the immortal ones. What if we could break their binds to Octavian? There would be no need to defeat them. They could be willing to join us against him.”

My lips pinch together as my mind thinks over his idea. It’s far more lucrative than anything Fadil or Habi suggested, which was nothing more than meditate, battle, death, destruction. But again, Candra’s tinkling voice pervades my thoughts.

Lifting my chin, I meet Xarion’s gaze, his stature so much taller than mine I have to tilt my head back at a sharp angle. “I wanted to talk to Phoenix first, but . . .” Xarion raises his eyebrows, prompting me on. “But one of the Leymak spoke to me. Through the aether, in my mind.”

“How? Habi made no mention of this.”

“I know.” I shake my head. “I waited for him to say so, but I’m not sure he encountered the same thing. I’m not sure any other Kythan did. But she spoke to me, and she asked me to join her. She said something about freeing myself from my master.” I dip my head, hide my eyes.

Xarion looses a heavy breath. “Rogue,” he says simply.

“It was most likely a trick—to weaken me; take me off-guard. But the way she said it, it was as if—I’m not sure.”

“As if they’re formulating their own plans to break free of their binds.” Xarion shakes his head, and I finally meet his eyes. “Whatever was used to create them, they are not in full service to their master. They are truly rogue, and will only join us if it meets
their
goal.”

“Then you believe Octavian has no real power over them.” I study his intense, far away gaze as he considers my words.

“I believe we need to visit the Library and learn everything we can about the creation of the Kythan.” He extends his hand, touches my arm softly. “For whatever purpose they were designed, they are of something dark, and have been loosed on Egypt. We need to understand what we face.”

A line forms between his brows. He worries his lip between his teeth.

“What else, Xarion?”

“Nothing, just . . .” He releases me and backs up a step. “Why—how could she speak to
you
through the aether? Only you.”

“I’m unsure.”

“Tell no one,” he says. “Not even Phoenix.”

“Why? Xarion, I don’t think there’s anything to worry—”

“Promise me, Star—No. I command you to tell no one until we’ve investigated them thoroughly.”

My mouth drops open. “You act as Pharaoh and command me? Now?”

He nods once. A hard frown pulls at his lips, his forehead creases, as if he’s struggling internally with his choice. “I’m giving you a command.”

A burning worms its way from my stomach to my chest. “Of course, master.” I turn my back on him and start again toward the entrance.