Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

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.

Isis, Sekhmet, every immortal one I’ve ever prayed to and those I haven’t—protect my friends.

And then I’m sparking my Charge, enveloping Xarion and me in a cocoon of celestial blue. It takes nearly all my strength and concentration to cover us with the shield, and I can only continue to pray that Phoenix and Lunia provide enough resistance for me to get him clear.

And that they forgive me.

But they must understand this is what I have to do. Xarion has to be guarded at all cost.

We barrel through the storm that stirs ahead of our path. The sand bounces off my crackling field of Charge. I feel the blast of Leymak power as it webs over my defense. Silvery currents fizzle along the shield, but we push on.

The clang of weapons and strained shouts reaches my ears, and still I push on, heading for the nearest town. Only our three friends left behind aren’t enough to thwart five Leymak. Three of them blink in and out before us, firing white bolts that break down my shield with each impact.

Who is fighting the guardians? Why has Candra set most of her minions on us?

Three Leymak stand just feet ahead of us. We charge forward to break through their barricade of rippling sand. Like in the red land during the battle, it topples upon itself, and when I yank Xarion to the left to dart around, the sand rises up like a wall. My Charge fails, and we hit it straight on.

Knocked on our backs, I scramble to get to my feet as Xarion’s arm reaches around me, sheltering me. I curse at him under my breath. I’m his protector! But it makes no difference. White-illumed hands reach down and grab us, yanking us apart.

My binding calls out, causing a physical pain to splinter through me. I’ve been commanded to stay by his side, and disobeying that order—no matter what the cause—hurts, like fire ripping through my body. I crumple.

Xarion struggles against two of the black-clad Leymak as they pull him farther away. “Star! I release you!”

The pain ends, and I bound up, knocking my captor in the chin with the top of my head. He grunts and stumbles back. I grasp my sword. Angling the crescent blade before me, I stare him down. “Release Pharaoh Caesarion or I’ll end you.”

Wiping the blood from his nose, he chuckles. “I doubt that. Candra!”

My head whips around as Candra stalks toward us, her glowing silver eyes focused on me. Phoenix is being dragged behind her by a Leymak and Nuri. Phoenix’s face and hands are bloodied, his sword missing.

I glance between Candra and Nuri—his red-illumed hand anchored to one of Phoenix’s arms—and my heartbeat pulses in my ears, my blood pressure rising.

We’ve been betrayed.