Astarte's Wrath (19 page)

“All right,” I say, running my blood-stained blade over the bottom of my shift. “We are all in this together”—I eye Nuri—“and from here, we are Pharaoh Caesarion’s guardians. We get him to that port.”

My friends nod their heads and anchor their swords in their sashes. Then we embark on our journey.

Maybe our last journey from the great city of Alexandria.

I’m unsure how many
hours have passed, but we must be nearing the end of the tunnel. The mirrors stopped a while ago, and the air is less dense.

Our party has kept all thoughts of what transpired in the city to themselves, silently mulling it over in their minds. I refuse to take on the blame fully. Now that the adrenaline has left my body, and my mind can rationalize clearly, there was no sure way for me to know of—or stop—the Narcos’ uprising.

I have no connection to the Narcolym other than that we’re all guardians. It’s not as if I could question their knowledge of Candra’s scheme, not without alerting them to it in the first place. Aggravated, I yank my tangled snarls of hair into a bun and pin it back.

And, I have to admit, with as close as Phoenix is to Xarion, the Narcos wouldn’t have included him in their rebellion. He couldn’t have known.

We have to move forward. We guard the last hope to the Egyptian throne. The future of the Ptolemies. I don’t see Octavian ending the queen, but he will take her power. He wants her alive to suffer humility once he sacks the city. I can’t say the same for her husband, though, but I try to assure Xarion, in a delicate way, that Octavian will spare his mother and siblings.

“I know this,” Xarion says. “It was never about punishing Antonius for leaving Octavia for my mother. It’s always been about ending the threat my life means to him.” He sighs. “My mother’s strong. Once she’s able to get word to me, she’ll have a plan.”

I touch his shoulder. “I believe this, too.” And I do. Cleopatra is renowned for her smarts and cunning in both leadership and warfare. Octavian will not rule over Egypt for long.

After hours of travel, we finally glimpse light ahead. The moon.

“Let’s make camp here,” Phoenix says, shrugging off his sack.

Besides the fact that it’s a bad idea to walk the desert by day, I’m annoyed Phoenix has taken up the role of leader. “You know that’s not wise,” I say. “We need to travel at night. Not only will we be better hidden, but the heat is too insufferable during the day.”

“Do you really think that matters to the Leymak? They travel through the aether.” He flaps out his bedroll. “Light or dark, day or night, it makes no difference to them. And, I’m tired.”

Glancing around at the exhausted faces, I give in and jerk off my bag. “Only a few hours,” I say, before Phoenix thinks he can make all the decisions from here on. “We leave at least two hours before the sun rises.”

Grunting, he throws himself down on his roll and turns his back to me. Lunia rolls her eyes. It’s such a Lunia thing to do that I can’t help smiling. Even though our world has been changed, possibly forever, it’s comforting to know we’re still us. Phoenix is still a stubborn ass, and Lunia is still carefree. Even though she must be distraught over leaving Seb behind, she’s strong. She’s always been able to control her emotions. The exact opposite of Phoenix.

Watching Xarion arrange his sleeping area, I can’t imagine how Lunia can leave Seb. There’s nothing that could persuade me away from him. But then, he’s my duty. Raised and trained to one day be his guardian, I’ve always protected him in some form throughout the years.

I’ve never considered any other option.

Lunia settles down on her roll, her fate decided. She’s taken up her obligation to guard her master, and though her heart’s with Seb, this is her place. With me. I reach over and squeeze her hand, and she grips it back.

I unroll my blankets and stretch out, wondering how I’ll sleep when Candra is undoubtedly searching for Xarion right now. A shiver crawls up my spine, and I shake off the unease.

Pale light reaches into the entrance of the tunnel. I stretch my hand toward the beam, let it bathe my skin, and Xarion’s hand slips into mine. Our fingers lock on to each other.

Then I shut my eyes and try to block out the cries haunting my dreams.

Chapter Seventeen

W
e’re making good time,
and soon we’ll be passing Canopus. We keep to the outside borders of towns, trekking through the baking sands. The high sun beats down on us, its rays bouncing off the golden grains and reflecting into our eyes, its heat clinging to us like steam in a bathhouse.

Octavian’s soldiers are still stationed in every major city and port, and dodging them is our main goal.

Thoughts of Candra enter my mind often. I don’t understand everything about the aether, and wonder if the Leymak roam aimlessly through it, misting in and out between worlds, choosing at random where they appear. Or if they have some designed means of projection—that they can imagine a precise location down to the veins of a leaf. Is time a factor for them? Could they cover twice as much territory on their quest to discover us? A moment for them, days for us?

Shutting down my overtaxed brain, I breathe in the hot air, and place my attention on Xarion. The strain he’s under is starting to wear on him. He carries it in his slumped shoulders, his sunken eyes. He’s a king without a kingdom. His thoughts linger with his home and family. But he’s still beautiful, for it’s his strength and loyalty and all that he is that shines through the bleakness.

Every so often he looks at me, really sees me. Touches me with purposeful caresses, and hope breaks through the dark covering his eyes. This doesn’t have to be the end to his story, to ours. Once we regroup at our destination—wherever that may be—he can build an army and take back his home.

I scold myself for already thinking the war is lost. I should have more faith in my queen and the Shythe. Only the horrid scene I last saw—the devastation, treachery, loss—makes it difficult to picture a different outcome. We won’t know for sure until we find a safe haven and are able to speak with someone informed on the war.

I fear that not knowing is better than knowing.

We stop at a small stream, the dark water traveling from the Nile. There is nothing here other than this water and sparsely scattered palms and vegetation. And the sand. I dip my copper flask in and then submerge my arms, cleansing the grit from my skin.

“I think we should separate,” Xarion whispers as he kneels beside me.

I raise an eyebrow. “From who?”

“From everyone.” He sinks his own flask into the stream, his eyes focused on his task. “We could make better time if it were just you and me, and . . .” He trails off as he peeks over at Nuri.

“And you’re concerned about the Narcos.” I’ve tried to discount my rising concern over our Narcolym companions who are no longer subject to the commands of their master. But it’s a constant panic coursing just below the other worries of our situation.

“It’s not just that,” Xarion says. He presses his lips together as he eyes me. “There’s no reason for anyone else to be at risk. I’m the one who is being hunted. Let the others go back and help if there’s a chance, and we’ll go on.”

A small smile stretches my mouth. “Ah. But it’s no bother to you that I’ll be at risk.”

“Star, no—” His face crumples in frustration, and I laugh.

“I would not trade being here with you now, with the world hunting us down, for anything, Xarion.”

His hand meets mine beneath the water, the mix of cool and warmth sending a direct current to my heart.

“So then it’s a plan?” he asks.

I don’t have to consider for long. It’s best for Lunia to go back to Seb, to find happiness if possible. And Phoenix . . . He can find happiness anywhere. I have faith he’ll be all right, and he’s now free. What he longed for. It’s painful to say goodbye to my friends, but Xarion’s right. I don’t want them harmed. And we can manage better now that the war is behind us.

I nod. “Let’s run away together.”

A bright smile lights his face, his dimples present. “The words I’ve longed to hear.” Releasing my hand, he grasps my face between his damp palms and presses his lips to mine.

I don’t know what our future will be. What will happen when we finally find a safe place. Whether Xarion will want to build an army and attack Octavian, or if he’d rather advocate his throne and live the life of a commoner. But the one thing that makes all the uncertainty worth it is that we’ll face it together.

As I pull back and stare into his emerald eyes, I know he feels the same.

He voiced that all he wanted was a life with me. And now, we have the chance to make that happen.

His lips find mine again, and he deepens the kiss, no longer worried about who will catch us or breaking laws that no longer govern our lives. I imprint the feel of him on my body. I’ll recognize his touch forever.

A gust of wind sends grains of sand against our skin, prickling my cheek. Xarion ignores the slight irritation, a smile curving his lips as he keeps them anchored to mine. But when the loud flap of the palm branches hits my ears, my back stiffens.

I slowly pull away from him as a dark cloud moves overhead, casting a shadow on the small oasis. The breeze picks up, rippling the stream. Then a violent current sweeps over the water, spraying us with sharp needles of water.

Holding Xarion’s gaze, I pull up the edge of my tunic to block us from the whipping wind and water, the sand building into a small dune over our feet. He grimaces as a tinkling laugh travels along the wind, and my stomach tightens. Too many thoughts rush me at once: he can hear Candra. Candra is here.
Run
.

Grabbing his arm, I tug him up and unsheathe my khopesh. My dark strands of hair lash at my cheeks, and I squint against the stinging sand pelting my skin. Xarion pulls his hood up and wraps an arm around my waist as we head for the cover of a palm.

Phoenix, Lunia, and Nuri stand in the center of the brewing sandstorm, their swords outstretched.

As I ineffectively attempt to hide Xarion behind the thin trunk, I strategize our escape. The Leymak have the advantage in the desert. Candra won’t allow me to encase her in a wall of glass again, and I’m sure this time they far outnumber us.

Our only defense was hiding. And they’ve discovered us. Quickly.

Before my mind can process just
how
quickly, the Leymak appear in a vaporous, inky cloud. It swirls with the battering winds, fading out to reveal five dark figures. Xarion’s hand in mine, I press closer to the tree, keeping them within my sight. Their black garments ruffle in the dying wind. Their pale skin gleams like porcelain under the reemerging sun. I glimpse Candra first, her pointed ears peeking through her dark hair, her eyes and arms illuminated with her silvery white power.

Her lips stretch into a slow smile, revealing her sharp canines. I’ve never seen her shift into a human guise, and I realize for the first time, she probably never will. She embraces her Kythan form—worships it as if she’s a god already.

“When I give the word,” I whisper to Xarion. “Run. Don’t look back.”

I start toward the group, but Xarion latches on to my arm. “You’ll go nowhere without me.” His tone is warning, and his brow creases as his eyes pin me in place.

Hunching beside him, I palm his face. “This is what I was created to do,” I say softly, stroking his cheek, my chest tightening.

His eyelids flutter closed as my hand roams the curve of his jaw. My fingers trace his lips, memorizing him. He sucks in a quick breath. “Curse the gods.” His eyes snap open; green pools of fury. “You were created to be with me.”

“I love you. Please don’t do this—”

“I command you to stay by my side.”

My heart shatters.

“Damn you, Xarion.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses the inside, his breath warm against my skin. I open my eyes with renewed determination. “Get up. Move.” I lace my fingers through his and stand, turning my gaze on the Leymak standing before my friends.