Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

His eyes lingeringly sweep over me. “What if you could be freed?” His words catch me off guard, and I start to shake my head, but he continues. “This is me, Star. Don’t do this. I know you must have thought of it at some point. All Kythan must have. What if Fadil—whether in betrayal to the Ptolemies or not—gave Octavian the knowledge to create a race with no true binds. What could that mean for your kind? I could forgive this betrayal if he believed what he’s done was in service to the gods. I could forgive it if it means there’s a way for you to be—”

“Stop.” His gaze penetrates mine, and I look away. “I only want to serve my masters and Egypt, Xarion.” I take a breath. “I’ve never allowed myself to consider such a thing because our slavery is as old as time itself. The Kythan were born into servitude. It’s all I know. It’s all that has ever been.” I look up at him. “Why torture myself with thoughts that will never be?”

His lips part, his eyes flicker in the dim light. “I would set you free,” he says slowly, tension lacing each word.

“Xarion . . . don’t.”

His brows pull together. “I’ll demand for Fadil to tell me how.”

“And what of Phoenix? And Lunia? And the rest of the guardians?” I widen my eyes.

He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come.

“You’d free them all—all Kythan? Who would guard Egypt and her kings and queens? Don’t presume to know better than centuries of kings who came before you, Xarion. Even the great Alexander knew the importance of slaves.”

He releases a heavy breath, his grip tightening on my hand. “Would you give up your friends? Would you trade a long, nearly immortal life of servitude in exchange for a short one . . . with me?”

I tuc

k in my chin, avoiding his hard stare, and scan the tome on the table. “My answer doesn’t matter, since it’s a question I’ll never have to seriously consider. Fadil wasn’t responsible for this. He can’t free—”

“I would give up my crown if it meant finding a way to free you, Star.” He releases my hand. “But you have to want that freedom. Not fear it.”

Before my eyes can find his, Xarion bounds up from his stool and stalks into the stacks. I know he loves me as a friend—we’ve been friends since birth. But is he admitting in his own Xarion way that he has deeper feelings for me?

I shut my tome, and the sound of the text closing on my thoughts booms through the Library as loud as the thumping of my heart.

Chapter Seven

Weeks pass, and then months. The Leymak haven’t shown themselves again since that battle in the red land. The barrier continues to keep the city safe, but there’s still fear of their return. Their existence lurks in Alexandria, like a demon that travels through the aether undetected. Octavian’s legions continue to move in from the sea. They group in surrounding cities and towns, making their presence known, but never attacking.

Little word comes from across the Mediterranean. The Council attempts to lift the citizens’ spirits with more festivals and celebrations, rejoicing in the immortal ones blessing our queen in her war against the Romans. But if she and Antonius don’t return soon with victory in their sails, then I fear for the whole of Alexandria.

I fear for Xarion.

Phoenix and Lunia stay with the royal children, guarding them and escorting them to their classes in the Library. Everyone grows restless, and even the beds of Kythan girls can’t seem to satiate Phoenix these days. He’s become edgy, and bickers with me even though we’ve rarely fought, ever.

I wish the Leymak would have never waged that battle. They’ve become a dark shadow, a dream. A phantom that haunts our minds, rearing only to cast doubt. I’m starting to wonder if Candra actually spoke to me through the aether, or whether it was my imagination.

I never told Fadil or the others what she voiced that day in the desert. Even if Xarion would release me from the command, everyone is so anxious that I don’t want to add another crack in the already crumbling foundation of our land.

It feels as if we’re suspended in the shadow realm, Osiris breathing down our necks as we hover at the entrance to the underworld. When Cleopatra returns, then the world will return with her. Everyone will celebrate and Xarion will marry and become King. We just have to hold the city together until then. Even if thinking of Xarion’s pending marital obligation weighs on my soul, I push forward, my mind focused on my duty.

Xarion spends his days training with weapons and studying old musty scrolls. He’s spoken to me very little, and hasn’t mentioned freeing my binds since that day in the Library. No, that’s not entirely true. He did try once more to coax an answer from me during a dinner where he had nearly a whole wineskin to himself.

Refusing to discuss the matter while he was intoxicated, I ignored his attempts, especially after he began debating the fact that he was drunk. It was infuriating. Can’t he see how difficult it is for me even to consider? Furious, he stormed off, and that was the last we’ve spoken of my binds. He’s been distant since, and it pains me that things have changed so much between us. I wish I could simply jump on his back and tackle him like when we were kids, but instead, I stand off to his side, silent, while he trains to become King.

I can’t fathom what giving him an answer would accomplish, other than making me more aware of the fact I can never be free—I can never truly be with Xarion.

It feels cruel to admit that my feelings run deeper than friendship for him. But if I’m completely honest, they always have. I was foolish to think I could continue to hide my feelings, even from myself. He claims I won’t answer him because I’m afraid. Afraid to consider what I could do with a free life—one not bound to his. But that, for me, is the real fear. I’ve never thought of us apart. It terrifies me. Maybe my binds to him is my crutch.

Regardless, any thoughts or action hinting toward my feelings is dangerous. If the Council ever suspected something physical happened between us—

I can’t allow my thoughts to wander there. Pharaohs do not have romantic relationships with their Kythan slaves. I’d be put to death and Xarion would be ostracized, considered lower than swineherds.

If our situation grows morbid, I’ll ask Fadil to place me under someone else—to be given a new charge. I’ll never be able not to guard Xarion, as I’ll always worry for his safety; it’s in my blood to protect him. But I feel this complication is hindering him more than my guarding him is helping. I pray it doesn’t come to that.

Tonight is the twins’ birthday celebration, and I sit on my balcony, finishing Helios’s present. My hands spark blue, infusing fresh sand with a white-blue current as I transform the matter into liquefied glass. I pull up with my cupped hands, shaping the glass into a tall vase.