Return Once More (10 page)

Traveling alone had felt like such a small infraction to me—just another observation, something I did at least twice a month, except without an overseer along. I'd wanted to see his face, maybe meet his gaze and see what it felt like, but the pull underneath my skin was too powerful. It scared me, that with one single touch he could make me forget everything else in the universe—both of ours—in an instant.

I couldn't lie to myself that this talking, touching, and kissing wasn't a big deal.

The softness in his eyes, the concern in his voice, the way he watched me with interest, all insisted I stay. No matter how pissed I was at being attacked, I couldn't deny—or ever forget—the way kissing him had blown me to bits.

Rules had already been broken, and pervy asshole or not, I'd never wanted anything more than I wanted to know Caesarion. My emotions and desires surged so far past reason that they drowned out the small part of my mind whispering to run.

“I'm not a concubine.” Out of the million feelings running hot, close to the surface, my irritation popped out first.
Stars, Kaia.

“Then what are you doing here?”

I moved past him, taking care not to touch, and sank down onto the bench he'd abandoned moments ago. His attitude rose hot anger into my throat, and I wanted to let him have it. Ask him who in Tuat he thought he was, making assumptions about my willingness to kiss him, but the bio-tat reminded me quite sternly that the answer was simple—he was allowed whatever he wished.

I had wanted to know Caesarion, but did I want to know Pharaoh?

The coolness of the bench relieved some of the heat in my skin, and the scent of wet stone wound into my nose. A breeze ruffled the leaves, sprinkling the water in the fountain with sparkles of sunlight. It helped me calm down.

The brain stem tat reminded me that Pharaoh apologized to no one. Not to mention I had interrupted him in semi-private gardens without being invited, so his assumption about my intention had not been outlandish. Still. I hadn't given this three-thousand-year culture clash enough thought.

Caesarion eased onto the other end of the bench, leaving a good eighteen inches of space between us. Goose bumps appeared along my arm, every inch of me swamped with the awareness of his nearness. How could Sarah possibly have missed the fact that Oz was her True for the first seven years we were at the Academy if they felt anything like this? It feels as though I'll never have to wonder where Caesarion is again.

“Are you angry with me?”

I pushed my physical reaction to him aside as best as I could, flabbergasted by the incredulous tone in which he'd asked the question. “No. A little embarrassed and offended, maybe, but not angry.”

“Women are not usually offended when I accept their offerings.”

“I guess there's a first time for everything.”

His dark eyebrows knitted together, giving him an expression that would have been as at home on a small child caught with a hand in an unapproved bag of treats. “I do not wish to upset or embarrass you. It's not often that I am interrupted by accident.”

It wasn't an apology, but given his upbringing and station, it was probably the best I would get. My wariness eased, defenses slipping. He seemed vexed but not angry, and more importantly, disinclined to lunge at me again. I'd give him an ancient clueless pass, because he'd been born into privilege and also because, like it or not, he was my True.

Now that I'd thwarted his attempt to use pleasure to dull the pain of his grief, Caesarion appeared lost again, the way he had at first glance. I wasn't going to have sex with him. In truth, I wasn't even sure I
liked
him, but it didn't lessen my desire to find another way to ease his grief.

“I'll be fine. You didn't know.” It killed me a little to let him off the hook, but only minutes remained before I had to return. It seemed a waste to spend them fuming over a misunderstanding.

Relief loosened his posture as he turned to face me. “I have never seen you before this morning.”

“I'm sure you meet too many women to recall them all.”

“Now that I look closely, though, I am sure I would remember you. You never answered my question about your business in the garden.”

He slid a stubborn gaze my direction, giving me a ghost of a halting smile. Our eyes locked. Warmth pooled my middle and spread until my cheeks and neck felt swollen. Words stuck between my heart and my tongue. The rest of the garden, this world, my world, faded away. I don't know how long we sat that way before I cleared my throat, desperate to hear him speak again before time ran out.

“I sought peace. What are
you
doing in the common gardens instead of your own?”

“This is my last morning in Alexandria, I thought … I don't know. Mother loved the gardens.” Caesarion paused, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his long throat, tears appearing in his midnight gaze. “I suppose I sought peace, as well.”

My heart squeezed at his palpable anguish. He'd lost his mother mere hours ago to the same power-hungry lunatic bent on ending Caesarion's life, as well. My hand itched to reach out and cover his, to give comfort and to memorize the feeling of his skin against mine. The tattoo linked to my brain overrode my desires based on contemporary custom, apparently choosing to forget the recent, rather physical interaction that had already taken place.

“I'm sorry I couldn't help you find peace, however brief.”

That small smile again, one that made me certain a genuine version would stop my heart. “That would not have been peace. It would have been at best a temporary distraction. Although it would have sufficed, I find that your presence soothes just as well. Perhaps better.” Caesarion reached out, sliding a finger along my jaw before tipping my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “You make me feel strange. As though nothing is what it seems any longer, not even myself.”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and a sound like water crashing over rocks roared in my ears. My entire body stood at attention; my stomach tied into a knot, my heart tripped and paused in alternating patterns. It felt like his fingertip lit a fire on every inch of skin it touched.

I slid back a few inches, unable to think with him touching me, but not missing the flash of disappointment on his face when our skin lost contact. He dropped his hand to his lap, clenching and unclenching a fist.

I groped for more neutral ground, unwilling to broach the real reason we felt familiar to each other. “You said this is your last morning in Alexandria. You're leaving?”

“I shouldn't speak of it. Perhaps you give me strange feelings because you're one of Octavian's spies.” He slid almost imperceptibly closer.

I reached out and covered his hand with mine, unable to contain the gasp that escaped when our skin touched and fire crawled up my arm. The stabbing pain in the base of my skull returned with enough force to make me clench my teeth, the price of forcing my body to override the commands from the brain stem tat. It wrapped painful fingers around my neck that climbed toward my eyeballs, but I couldn't stop touching him. Our skin felt fused, and when he flipped his palm against mine, locking our fingers together, the strangest combination of contentment and desire spread through my blood.

“I would never betray you,” I managed.

“I believe you.” Caesarion's gaze throbbed with what appeared to be the same odd reaction to our meeting, though he still looked grief stricken and dazed. “To the general who caused my mother's death, I am nothing but a threat to his quest for power, and Octavian is not the type of man to leave threats blowing in the wind.”

“Is he right to see you as an enemy?”

“I do not know. My paternity was kept from me for a time, and my place is here, with the Egyptian people. My family has ruled for generations.”

“But … ,” I nudged.

“Caesar left us when defending his relationship with my mother to the Senate became too difficult. Antony, not unexpectedly given his weak character, failed my mother as well. Octavian ordered her murder, and mine, and has eliminated thousands of my subjects. I have no reason to love Rome.” Bitterness clipped the words from his lips, each one pruned and spat into the air.

That Caesarion might have marched on Rome intent on revenge never occurred to me, but the hatred clogging the air between us made the possibility clear.

Of course, he would never get the chance.

Time was short for both of us. I'd forgotten my stupid watch, but the brain stem tat alerted me of Genesis time after my idle thought. Breakfast would end in twenty minutes, and it usually took at least ten to get out of the decontamination chamber. One of the rules for time travel, put in place by Originals like my grandfather, was that time marched in the past as it did in the present. It prevented stealing time and eliminated temptation for subterfuge. If I passed ninety minutes in the past, ninety minutes elapsed at home. I had to return to Sanchi.

I gathered the remainder of my self-control and stood, smoothing down my dress, already missing my True, already anticipating the cold loneliness of exiting his presence.

“It was a pleasure, Caesarion.” It took all of my concentration to force his given name past my lips, past the discomfort of bypassing the electronic fingers reaching toward my lips in an attempt to force an appropriate title out in its place.

If my lack of propriety bothered him, Caesarion did not mention it. Instead he reached out, almost like a reflex. “Wait. What is your name, beauty?”

My heart fluttered at the frank compliment. “Kaia.”

His hand tightened on mine, igniting sparks that raced up my arm, and my knees wobbled as his fingers caressed mine with a brief squeeze. “I am sorry to think we may not meet again, Kaia. Not in this world at any rate.”

I couldn't tell him how far apart our worlds existed already. Instead I smiled, trying to memorize his face and body and the sound of his voice all at once. “The gods are cruel. You know that better than anyone. But I'm happy to have spent these moments in your company.”

It was the only true reply that came to mind, and one the bio-tat suggested he would understand. The usual parting words, like “see you later” or “be safe,” would have been lies, today or in the weeks to come. I couldn't see him again without increasing the chance of getting caught, and he would never be safe again. If these were the only moments I would steal with him, they wouldn't be tarnished by fakeness.

That would have been worse than not meeting him at all.

He nodded, a wrinkle appearing between his dark eyebrows. Perhaps he wanted to say something more but lost the words as I had, in the space between his heart and his mouth.

The bio-tat forced my knees into a slight bow as I turned and stepped quickly back the way I had come. The common gardens were massive; a hundred nooks and crannies lay waiting for me to duck inside and return home. I found one, a quiet grove shaded by olive and pomegranate trees. A still pool sat against one of the outer walls, soft blue lotus flowers drifting lazily across the green surface. As beautiful as these gardens were, as breathless and perfectly complete as the boy a few yards away made me, I didn't belong here.

The self-destruct sequence built into my bio-tat meant I couldn't stay, even if I wanted to, and Caesarion couldn't leave. Jonah had brought the oranges—and small, inanimate trinkets could be snagged, like the locket around my neck—anything we could enclose completely in our hands. But not people. We hadn't discovered a way to bring them forward, and we didn't travel forward in time ourselves, either.

I felt sure that had we the chance, the two of us would fall in the kind of love that inspired people to write stories. Although Caesarion felt the pull between us, he couldn't suspect the reason. He only knew that he'd met an intriguing girl in the gardens, but on the morning his entire world began to fall apart, he would soon be plagued with more pressing worries.

Caesarion had lost his mother, his father, and soon his own life would be sacrificed on the altar of Rome's expanding power. Octavian's march toward becoming Augustus, one of Western history's single biggest influences, had begun. He would impart a lasting imprint on government, military tactics, and cultural expansion that would change the Western world forever. Nothing would change Caesarion's and my circumstances, and nothing remained but for me to go back to Sanchi.

My fingers found the pendant hanging against my breastbone, toying with the pretty metal as I swallowed, struggling not to cry. How many times had Berenice said good-bye to Titus, assuming it would be the last time?

I drew strength from the past, leaned down and whispered “return” into Jonah's cuff. The lights changed from red to green, and my adventure came to an end.

The pressing ache at leaving Caesarion took a backseat when I checked the time again, aware that Reflection started three minutes ago. Four wrist comms from Analeigh had beeped while the air lock held me hostage, each relaying her increasing concern. It didn't help that the scrapes on my knees had embedded ancient Egyptian sand and gravel inside them, which meant the stupid scanner forced me into a decontamination shower before letting me loose on the Academy.

At least no alarms had sounded as the scanner swept my hands or face. It didn't know I'd interacted with anyone, or that I felt as though he'd touched more than my skin. I hurried toward Reflection, trying to shake loose the lingering feeling of his mouth on mine. My knees were still weak, and it wasn't just because I was panicking over being late.

“Kaia.” Oz paused reluctantly when we passed in the otherwise empty hallway, adjusting his glasses. “I thought you'd be in the Caesar review.”

“I, um, was double-checking that our wardrobe is set for the Triangle visit and lost track of time.” His eyes narrowed. I swallowed hard, then forced a giggle past my lips. “The hats, you know? I love trying on those hats.”