Finally, Xarion enters, and my held breath releases in a silent whoosh. I fill my lungs, trying to quell the unease roiling in my stomach. As stealthily as possible, I search his face, his rigid frame, his tensed forearms. My heart thuds eagerly against my breastbone, and I grip my shift to keep it from jumping out of my chest.

He’s seated in a lesser throne below his mother’s, and wears the Roman armor of his stepfather, though he still dons the cuffs and crown of Egypt. Pride wells inside of me. But as I join the others in standing, my elation is cut short when my gaze falls to Cleopatra.

Her eyes bore a hole through me, her gaze sharp. I hold still, commanding my body not to reveal any weakness before her glare. She’s can’t possibly know what law Xarion and I have broken . . . not unless—

Xarion told her.

But no. My own guilt at having consummated our relationship is weighing on me before the queen. Her deep eyes hold no scorn for me. I see this as they shift, her arched brows pulling together in concern.

She’s fearful for her son, and I’m his personal guardian. My heart launches itself into my throat. I don’t need to hear the report. Suddenly I know the outcome, and I don’t feel I

can stand here for one minute longer. Not when at any moment Octavian could breach our city.

“Isis, guide us,” Cleopatra says, her voice firm as she begins her address. I swallow, clearing my throat of the thumping lump so I can hear her words. “We only just escaped the shores of Actium, having been outmanned, outsmarted, and outmaneuvered. Prevailed upon by his general Agrippa to bring down his troops from the north, Octavian surrounded us by both land and sea.” She pauses, lifting her head higher. “With no plan of evasion an effective alternative, we were forced to attack.”

The queen allows her council and guardians to process this information before she continues. She describes the battle in great detail as her consorts pass around maps and strategies written on parchment. Once Antonius knew they were doomed, he ordered Cleopatra’s ship to head for the only weakened zone in Octavian’s defenses and followed her out.

I bow my head for those left behind. For those captured and destroyed.

They spent the rest of their time putting out fires from the Narcos’ Flame, saving what ships and men they could. But when Cleopatra confesses that their legions abandoned them before they could retaliate on land, my heart shatters. And when finally she nears the end of her account, she says, “It is but one battle. One glorious moment for that traitorous mongrel. We will build our forces here and ready for an invasion. And as I suspect Octavian will want to gloat before attempting to sack our great city, we’ll have some time to prepare.”

Hushed voices rumble from the gathered council members. I strain to hear their words, but when Fadil steps forward, I focus fully on him.

“My queen,” he says, bowing low, his blue robe dusting the floor. Cleopatra nods, giving him permission to address her and the Council. “I wish this could wait, as I do not want to stack more unhappy news upon the somber tale you’ve spun. But I must inform you of Octavian’s employment in the ancient magics.”

The queen’s shoulders tense, and she grips the arm of her throne tightly. “Proceed,” she says, her tone lethal.

“Yes, my queen.” Fadil takes two steps closer to the dais. “He’s created a new race of Kythan. Shortly after you took leave, our guardians were attacked in the desert, only escaping by chance.” Anger burns in my chest. Chance had nothing to do with our tactful escape. “They can not only summon the power of the aether, they walk within it. Travel. Their power is unmatched. Since then, we’ve been shut inside the city, only our ancient barrier keeping the Leymak Kythan from entering.” He attempts to straighten as much as his rigid frame will allow. “I seek permission from the pharaoh to search Egypt for one who can employ the old magics and create more guardians.”

Low gasps fill the room, and my jaw tenses. Having learned how Ahmose I fashioned the first Kythan army, I don’t know how Fadil can ask this, how he can suggest such a barbaric act in our civilized world. In the short time we have left, the only people he could perform the ritual on are the Alexandrians. Not enemy prisoners. What has been done is done, and of the past. We are here, and there is no reason to torture the innocent—to strip their identities and chain them to a near-eternal lifetime of slavery.

I must lose my mind, because without thought, I step forward. “No, my queen. I beg of you.” All heads snap to me, and I fall to my knees. “Forgive me—forgive my boldness. But I fear this cannot be the way to defeat our enemies.”

The room is as silent as death as it waits for the queen’s reply. “Rise, Guardian Astarte,” Cleopatra commands. My body obeys, shakily standing once again. “I will hear your thoughts.”

My shock complete, I lift my gaze to hers, avoiding the disdain I know I’ll find on Fadil’s face. I pull my back straight as her kohl-rimmed eyes watch me carefully, inspecting.

She stands and sweeps her hand through the air. “In private,” she declares. “I want a private council with Guardian Astarte and Pharaoh Caesarion. All else are dismissed. Begin preparations for defensive tactics against Octavian’s legions.”

A murmured acknowledgment ripples through the chamber as the Council begins to exit, a sullen Fadil trailing behind them. His anger at having been dismissed is almost tangible, and I know I’m in for a scolding later from my creator. But his order will not supersede the pharaoh’s. I pray to Isis that Cleopatra won’t consider his request. And I pray harder that, in her wisdom, she’ll not uncover the law I’ve broken with her son.

But as she approaches me, her thin, wispy dress swaying like a wraith around her elegant form, I don’t fear her. Cleopatra is wise and just. And unlike the Council who would drain the people of every cent to ensure they’re kept in their lavish lifestyle, she would sacrifice her riches for her people. She won’t punish me for wanting to spare them a fate far worse than Octavian deems for them.

Xarion stands at her side, his hands clasped behind his back. I meet his confident gaze briefly before looking at Cleopatra, emboldening myself. “I’m sorry, my queen. I was out of line to speak against my creator.”

She fans her hand, waving off my apology, and her bangles clink. “I grew tired of Fadil’s irksome, ancient ways long ago.” A sly smile curves her mouth. “I did not call this private conference to discuss the lone sorcerer. Though have no fear, guardian. I have no intensions to order such a callous act upon our people. If it’s the will of the gods for Octavian to conquer Egypt, then it will be.” She glances at her son before continuing. “But even so, though I cannot defy their will, I refuse to simply hand over my first born to that murderous mongrel. I’m asking for you, my son’s protector, to lead him into the desert, Astarte. I’ve made arrangements.”

My heart rate quickens. Though she’s presented her order in the form of a request, the command is clear. My body acknowledges it all the same, and my mind is already deducing the best escape route. I bow low. “Yes, my queen.”

Xarion is not bound to obey, however. “Mother,” he snaps, and I hear the anger rising in his voice. “How can you ask me to run like a coward? You’ll need me in this battle. I can’t abandon—”

She halts his rant with a firm glare, her eyes narrowed. “Caesarion, I will not have the only son of the greatest Caesar become a martyr in this fool’s war.”

Xarion’s brow furrows, his mouth parts—but he decides against discounting her with a forced nod to acknowledge her concern, her wishes. I fist my hands, suppressing the urge to reach out to him.

Instead, Cleopatra sighs and palms his cheek, her features softening. “I do not think you weak, my son. Quite the opposite. It is because of your strength, your honor, your destiny that I send you away. Alexandria will be your end if you stay. When set upon, even Achilles was defeated.” Her chest rises with a strained breath. “Your time to fight and triumph over will come, but it is not now.”

There is so much heartache in her voice that if I’d not been commanded already, I’d rush Xarion into the desert this very moment to alleviate her pain. But the fact that the Leymak are out there lurking, waiting for such an opportunity, forces me to speak.

Tags: Trisha Wolfe Kythan Guardians
Source: readsnovelonline.net