Astarte's Wrath (18 page)

“What—?” Lunia begins, her words cut short by a whirring hiss.

It grows loader, stronger as a gale picks up around us, blowing our hair and shifts. Sand needles my skin, and I bat at the annoying grains, my hand halting mid-swipe. There is no sand on the paved island, at least not enough to get swept up in the storm.

A white flash blazes across the skyline just past the city walls, and my head whips around. I tighten my hold on Xarion’s hand as the wind batters us and the sky lights up like Poseidon’s triton.

The flicker grows brighter, and my eyes latch on to the dark figures hovering above the wall, their hands blinding white. Whirling billows of air lifts their forms from beneath. Fear stabs my chest. The Leymak hold their suspended position, their fierce glowing eyes and arms a beacon in the dark storm, as they summon the aether—controlling the elements.

I can’t pinpoint Candra, but I know she’s there. Watching us. Waiting for Octavian’s legions to break down the crystal barrier; their opportunity to infiltrate Alexandria. As I’m searching the wraith-like beings, another
boom
rocks the ground.

A ball of fire lands mere feet from our party.

“The ships are breaching our defenses,” Phoenix shouts. He points past the harbor. “They’ll be within the city limits in minutes.”

Although I’m scared to turn my back on the hovering Leymak, I know they can’t yet cross the barrier, and I force my eyes to seek the battle happening on the sea. Pharos lights up, the Narcos in its tower illuminating their power, and a stream of Flame reins down like a fiery whip across the water. It sets the sails of a quinquereme aflame, then hunts another warship as it slowly moves over the sea.

My instincts say to go now—run for the underground tunnel before Octavian’s forces get any closer. But I was ordered to wait for the queen’s diversion. And with the Leymak’s eyes upon us, I know I can’t chance it, even if I could disobey her command.

We need the Leymak inside the city, fighting the guardians, before we can disappear and escape their reach unnoticed.

More fire envelopes the sky. Crackling waves of amber flares against the night.

“Finally,” Phoenix says, drawing my attention from the raining fire.

Nuri approaches, a woven bag threaded over one shoulder, sword in hand. “I came as soon as General Habi gave the order,” he says.

Phoenix nods, then steps toward the barge. We follow, and a sharp pang at having another Narco on this mission hits my stomach. I tamp it down. Phoenix expressed his trust in Nuri, and there was no one I could depend on other than Habi. But our general is needed with his army. And we need the added strength that a second Narco’s power can deliver.

Once the barge pushes off the shore, I look at Xarion. He’s lost in thought as he watches his home grow farther away, his green irises matching the turbulent waves of the ocean.

“I wish we could bring them with us,” he says, the wind muffling the anguish in his voice. I know he’s referring to his siblings.

“No matter what, Octavian would not anger his people by destroying children. Especially a once-beloved general’s children. They will be safe, taken care of and treated well wherever they are.” His eyes meet mine, and I reinforce my words. “Octavian will be destroyed—not them; not us. Please only focus on
your
safety for now.”

His lips thin and he nods once, but I know his thoughts will remain with them however far we run. Through whatever dangers he faces. He’s loyal, a true king, and that’s only one of the many reasons why I love him.

I direct a strained smile at Lunia who returns it. She said her own personal goodbye to little Delphus, and I can see the pain on her downturned features at having to leave him behind and entrust his safety to another guardian.

As our barge docks, I search the sky for Candra. The Leymak hold their fixed positions outside the walls, their silvery light illuminating the dark storm churning the air. Our group heads into the depths of the city, skirting statues, monuments, and corners, using the conjoining rooftops of palaces and buildings as cover.

Guardians infiltrate the Canopic from Rhakotis, readying themselves for the Roman invasion.

Once we reach our rendezvous —the Library—we huddle near the entrance, our breaths held, hands gripping our swords, awaiting the war horn to sound; our cue. The striped awning above flaps violently in the rising wind, its
snapping
causing my senses to heighten and my eyes to scan the emptied boulevard, my guard up.

The sound of the battle reaching the shore drifts to my ears. Shouts. The ring of weapons striking weapons and shields. A guttural cry rents the air, and a chill works its way through my body.

The
boom
of hundreds of feet stomping the earth in rhythm competes with the drumming of my heart. “Hold,” I say, my voice low, steadying the anxious, fidgeting bodies around me. I pull Xarion’s hood forward to cover his face as the first of the Roman legions enter the streets.

They run, breaking formation. Their war cries pierce the tense hum in the air. We back farther into the alcove, the shadows masking us, as the guardians and soldiers clash in a loud disharmony of roars and clanks.

I’m tempted to peek around the awning and search for the dark hovering forms. But I keep my gaze on the battle, waiting. Candra’s presence is still making itself known, but she remains silent.
Why hasn’t she spoken or appeared? Why isn’t she gloating and slinging threats?

Phoenix’s forearms illume red as his gaze trails the fighting. I touch his shoulder, and his head snaps around. Glancing at the pulsing Flame snaking up from his hands, he grimaces. His features contort as he reins in his power, extinguishing his Flame.

I know how difficult it is to control the urge to strike out at the Roman soldiers. It’s instilled in us; visceral as guardians to
fight
. I have to consciously discourage my instinct as the battle rages before us. Even Xarion clutches the hilt of his sword. Raised to be a king, he’s prepared to defend his people and country. I latch on to his arm and give him a knowing look before returning my gaze to the streets.

The Shythe cast a glowing blue-white net of Charge over our enemies. It crackles as it drops on top the soldiers, entangling them in a biting electrical snare. My brow creases. Only the Shythe are present in this scrimmage.
Where are the Narcolym Guardians?

Searching the battle, I try to glimpse the Narcos. It’s possible they’re holding back another legion of soldiers at the gates or the harbor. But an annoying twinge of doubt eats a hole through my reasoning. A brush of hot air warms my cheek, and I turn toward the source.

A blazing stream of fire lashes down on the boulevard. The light of the Pharos attacks, setting the Shythe Guardians aflame. My mind numbs. All logic flees.

The horn sounds.

I stand in mute shock as the guardians burn—their screams ripping a deafening hole through the chaos.

“Move!” Phoenix shouts.

I can’t.

The cries bleed into the night as the blaze engulfs those trying to escape, and I can’t take my eyes off the carnage. The destruction. The betrayal unfolding around me.

Before I realize my actions, I’m raising my khopesh and charging toward the battle. My gaze lands on a Narco rounding the boulevard, his Flame aimed at a Shythe—at Kale. Calling forth my Charge, I emblaze my hand and unleash a bolt. It careens toward its target. The Narco blocks my blow with an ignited raised arm, deflecting it to the street.

A cry rips from my throat. I hammer my sword against his shield, driving his arm down. His glowing red eyes meet mine a moment before my blade strikes his chest, carving a deep gash.

He stumbles and drops to his knees. I lift my sword to finish him, and strong arms encircle my waist. Xarion shouts near my ear, but I can’t latch on to the meaning of his hurried words as he hauls me toward the Library.

My mind returns in a single moment of clarity.

Xarion
.

My purpose replaces the rage roiling inside me as I focus on him and the horn calling through the chaos. The Leymak are within the city. I have to get him to the tunnel.

Wiping the blood from my brow, I turn and look into his eyes. “I’m here,” I assure him. He nods, his face twisted with strain. “I’m here with you.”

Taking his hand, I push through the double doors. But before we disappear into the darkness of the stacks, I glace one last time over my shoulder—

—at the ruin and betrayal and death.

Narcos roll a large copper machine down the street. Steam billows from a pneumatic tube on the apparatus as it pumps. With a high whir it builds momentum, then unleashes dozens of arrows. They soar through the air, arc, and rain down on the army of Shythe. I bow my head.

Then we’re gone.

Chapter Sixteen

L
unia sparks a dome
of Charge in her palm and touches a copper coil held in a vinegar-filled vase. With a
snap
, a direct current travels up the wire to illuminate a glass bulb, brightening the dank underground tunnel.

The Narcos’ power may be more sought after by the scientists for their automata and machinery, but when it comes to darkness—utter and complete—the Shythe chase it away like no other.

Dropping my head in my palms, I try to gather my thoughts. The scene of the Pharos attacking our city replays in my mind, and a shiver runs over my skin as another, similar image takes its place.

The vision Candra sent me that day on the barge.

“Star.” Xarion kneels before me, takes my hands from my face. “Let’s get this off of you,” he says low, then begins to wipe the smeared blood from my face with the hem of his robe.

His touch is soft and comforting. And his shadowed green eyes say more than words as they hold mine. There is no coming back to Alexandria. He must be struggling not to storm from our hidden tunnel, to go and defend his family against the traitors—his once-devoted guardians.

I should have prevented this
.

It’s the one thought that shines clearest in the darkness.

“Xarion,” I say, cupping his hands in mine. “I’m sorry—this is my fault. I could have—”

“No, it’s not.” He presses his lips together hard. “
I
should have handed myself over to Octavian months ago. All that he wants is the throne.”

I’m about to argue when Phoenix says, “We can dispute faults and martyring later.” His bright gaze drops to the spot where Xarion’s hand holds mine. “We need to keep moving.”

Anger flares, slithering up the walls of my chest like a trapped viper. I bolt up and whirl on him. “You had to have known about this, Phoenix,” I snarl. “How could you not?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. He pulls his back straight, towering over me. “I don’t think you want to pass judgment at this time, Star”—he glances at Xarion—“as it seems we’ve all got secrets to unearth.”

I glower at him, at his threat. I’m not so stupid to think my friends wouldn’t discover my feelings for Xarion. But the rage in his fiery eyes conveys the loathing he feels toward those feelings.

I nod. “Understood. But tell me how the Narcos were able to disobey a command? How they can attack their
home
.” I fist my hands.

Phoenix’s features soften, and he sighs. “I don’t know.”

I open my mouth to demand again, but halt. He must be as upset as I am about the Narcos turning on our master. Even more so—they’re his kindred. “I’m sorry, Phoenix.”

He waves off my apology. “It’s forgotten.”

Lunia steps between us. “Try it,” she says, inclining her head toward Xarion. “Let the pharaoh give you a command.”

My head whips around as Xarion stands. “I command you to wave your hand again, Phoenix.”

It’s a weak command, but one that the Narco before me shouldn’t be able to ignore—yet, his hands, glowing with the bright red of his power, remain at his sides.

Lunia’s eyes widen, and my mouth parts. I glance at Nuri, fear creeping over me. “Nuri?” I say.

He steps forward and again, Xarion commands him to wave. He does not.

“Hades,” I curse. “Command me.” And when Xarion asks the same of me, without thought, I wave.

Phoenix blows a breath through his tense lips. “We’ll figure this out once we’re clear of the war.” Sheathing his sword, he nods to Lunia.

She turns a mirror hanging along the rock wall outward. It catches the light of the glass bulb, sending a beam high above our heads. It reflects off another mirror, then another. They’re positioned accordingly to refract the light and brighten the stretch of tunnel.

Our path shows a long, straight trek through the underbelly of the city.

Pushing my fears of the two Narcos who cannot be commanded to the back of my mind, I remind myself that Phoenix is one of my best friends. That the war above does not affect us the same way. Once we’re safely at the Red Sea’s port, we can figure out how Octavian was able to break the Narcos’ binds and turn them against their masters—but we must get there first.