Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

The attack has changed life at the palace. I fear we’re entering the eye of the storm—waiting for the other side of the storm wall to make landfall. It feels like only a matter of time before the brewing tension within Alexandria erupts.

And things between Xarion and me couldn’t be more wrong. Since the night he accepted my plea as rejection, he’s become even more distant. He doesn’t wait for me to escort him to council meetings or processions. He doesn’t ask for my advice. There are no more sly, seductive smiles, or secret handholding. There are no more passionate touches or simple, warm embraces, and I ache to be near him.

/> Instead, he’s accepted his position as Pharaoh. He treats me as I requested: a guardian. Dictating even the most mundane commitments to be carried out. And it’s cost him his once-spontaneity—that spark of mischief that used to infuse the palace and all those within it with joy.

His stubbornness used to be endearing. Now it’s off-putting. There’s a bitter edge to his addresses and commands. The Kythan, though they don’t—nor would they ever—voice a complaint, scowl behind his back. If Xarion doesn’t return to his former majesty, he’ll evoke a hatred of their servitude, like King Ptolemy did before Cleopatra took the throne.

I don’t want to see that happen to him.

To get away from the pressure building under the palace roof, I’ve stolen a day for myself and come back to my home. I get few of them, and I’ve never actually ignored my duties for an entire day, but my mind desperately needs distraction. Hopefully Xarion will listen to me just this once and stay near Phoenix while I’m on leave.

Rhakotis swarms with hunters of cheap sewing materials, fresh caught fish, and merchants to trade their valuables with. Children run barefoot, weaving through merchant stands, splashing in the watering fountains for the horses and camels. Their lighthearted laughter tugs at my heart as I stroll through the quarter’s small marketplace. For a time, Xarion and I could’ve been one of them. Innocent, carefree. Happy.

I peer over an awning-covered stand and pick up a scarab beetle amulet inlaid with lapis lazuli. It’s a rare find here in the poorer district. The pads of my fingers brush over the blue stone. “How much?”

The Jewish man scratches his bearded chin as his eyes rake me over. He’s debating how much I have to spend. I’m dressed in my royal guardian attire. His eyes widen as he spies my golden armbands.

“Never mind,” I say, dropping the amulet back to the table. “I’m not that interested.” Though I know Xarion would appreciate the sentiment behind the gift, as the beetle is given to offer protection, I can’t possibly give him a replica. My pride won’t allow it. He has access to the finest jewelry in Egypt, and though this artisan is very talented in his trade, I can tell the lazuli has been faked by its texture.

Before the proud businessman can haggle, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see Lunia dressed down in her day clothes. “Hey. Why aren’t you with Delphus?”

“Nice to see you, too.” She shakes her head.

“I see you every day.” Linking my arm through hers, I move us away from the curious eyes of the merchant. “What I meant was you’ve been so devoted to your charge lately. I didn’t think you’d take your leave.”

She shrugs, her shoulder nudging mine. “I need us time, away from that stale place.”

A small smile breaks across my lips. “Your hut or mine?”

“Mine’s closer.”

As we make our way toward Lunia’s apartment, I notice the hesitancy in the quarter that usually isn’t here. The poorer districts of Alexandria have their worries: food, shelter, disease. But there is always an abundance of life, gratitude, and the acknowledgement that we live in a prosperous city. The queen would never allow any of her people to starve or want for anything. And the people adore their goddess incarnate.

But the downturned faces and the sidelong glares that I receive heightens my awareness.

Lunia whispers near my ear. “There is much talk about the aftermath of the recent attack.” She glances around before continuing. “The word is Master Caesarion isn’t strong enough to lead a revolt on the cursed Leymak in the absence of his mother.”

A nauseating twinge pulls at my stomach. Judgment from his people was the very fear he voiced in the garden, only I was more concerned about keeping him away from the Leymak, safely behind the barrier. I’ve been so consumed with my duties in the palace that I haven’t spent much time among the people.

We turn on to the walkway leading to Lunia’s upstairs apartment. Ivy crawls along the walls of the building, and each courtyard is shaded by an awning and terebinth trees. The royal guardians live slightly better than the others; we’re not made to dwell in slave quarters.

“It’s not true,” I say, finally finding my voice on the peoples’ opinion of their pharaoh.

“I know. And I understand completely why we can’t go into battle right now. Why we must wait for Cleopatra. I trust Caesarion, and I trust you.”

She pushes her wooden door open, and I look at her. “Me?”

She laughs. “Star, I’m no fool. With as stubborn as Caesarion is, the only way he wouldn’t rush off to retaliate is because you told him not to.” She smirks. “You two are more transparent than you think.”

I raise my eyebrows, thinking Xarion may have heeded my advice some about not retaliating, but that was right after our complete falling out. As we stand now, he could order his guardians to war at any moment. He’s unpredictable. The fact that I don’t know, nor can predict his next course of action distresses me, and my chest aches. His protection lies in his trust of me.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, changing the subject. I’m tired of fighting my feelings for Xarion for one day.

Settling down on her cream couch next to the open terrace, Lunia gazes over her view of the paved shore. A grain ship docks near the long jetty that connects Pharos to the mainland. Sheer blue curtains blow in with the breeze, carrying the sounds of the harbor.

The draft lifts the dark strands of Lunia’s hair from her shoulders. “I’ve been told I’ll never bear children.”

Her announcement drops on top of me like a barrel of bricks. For a moment, I can only stare at her while she smooths out the pleats of her tunic. “I’m so sorry.” Moving beside her, I kneel and take her hand. “How did you discover this?”