Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)
Chapter Seventeen
We’re making good time, and soon we’ll be passing Canopus. We keep to the outside borders of towns, trekking through the baking sands. The high sun beats down on us, its rays bouncing off the golden grains and reflecting into our eyes, its heat clinging to us like steam in a bathhouse.
Octavian’s soldiers are still stationed in every major city and port, and dodging them is our main goal.
Thoughts of Candra enter my mind often. I don’t understand everything about the aether, and wonder if the Leymak roam aimlessly through it, misting in and out between worlds, choosing at random where they appear. Or if they have some designed means of projection—that they can imagine a precise location down to the veins of a leaf. Is time a factor for them? Could they cover twice as much territory on their quest to discover us? A moment for them, days for us?
Shutting down my overtaxed brain, I breathe in the hot air, and place my attention on Xarion. The strain he’s under is starting to wear on him. He carries it in his slumped shoulders, his sunken eyes. He’s a king without a kingdom. His thoughts linger with his home and family. But he’s still beautiful, for it’s his strength and loyalty and all that he is that shines through the bleakness.
Every so often he looks at me, really sees me. Touches me with purposeful caresses, and hope breaks through the dark covering his eyes. This doesn’t have to be the end to his story, to ours. Once we regroup at our destination—wherever that may be—he can build an army and take back his home.
I scold myself for already thinking the war is lost. I should have more faith in my queen and the Shythe. Only the horrid scene I last saw—the devastation, treachery, loss—makes it difficult to picture a different outcome. We won’t know for sure until we find a safe haven and are able to speak with someone informed on the war.
I fear that not knowing is better than knowing.
We stop at a small stream, the dark water traveling from the Nile. There is nothing here other than this water and sparsely scattered palms and vegetation. And the sand. I dip my copper flask in and then submerge my arms, cleansing the grit from my skin.
“I think we should separate,” Xarion whispers as he kneels beside me.
I raise an eyebrow. “From who?”
“From everyone.” He sinks his own flask into the stream, his eyes focused on his task. “We could make better time if it were just you and me, and . . .” He trails off as he peeks over at Nuri.
“And you’re concerned about the Narcos.” I’ve tried to discount my rising concern over our Narcolym companions who are no longer subject to the commands of their master. But it’s a constant panic coursing just below the other worries of our situation.
“It’s not just that,” Xarion says. He presses his lips together as he eyes me. “There’s no reason for anyone else to be at risk. I’m the one who is being hunted. Let the others go back and help if there’s a chance, and we’ll go on.”
A small smile stretches my mouth. “Ah. But it’s no bother to you that I’ll be at risk.”
“Star, no—” His face crumples in frustration, and I laugh.
“I would not trade being here with you now, with the world hunting us down, for anything, Xarion.”
His hand meets mine ben
eath the water, the mix of cool and warmth sending a direct current to my heart.
“So then it’s a plan?” he asks.
I don’t have to consider for long. It’s best for Lunia to go back to Seb, to find happiness if possible. And Phoenix . . . He can find happiness anywhere. I have faith he’ll be all right, and he’s now free. What he longed for. It’s painful to say goodbye to my friends, but Xarion’s right. I don’t want them harmed. And we can manage better now that the war is behind us.
I nod. “Let’s run away together.”
A bright smile lights his face, his dimples present. “The words I’ve longed to hear.” Releasing my hand, he grasps my face between his damp palms and presses his lips to mine.
I don’t know what our future will be. What will happen when we finally find a safe place. Whether Xarion will want to build an army and attack Octavian, or if he’d rather advocate his throne and live the life of a commoner. But the one thing that makes all the uncertainty worth it is that we’ll face it together.
As I pull back and stare into his emerald eyes, I know he feels the same.
He voiced that all he wanted was a life with me. And now, we have the chance to make that happen.
His lips find mine again, and he deepens the kiss, no longer worried about who will catch us or breaking laws that no longer govern our lives. I imprint the feel of him on my body. I’ll recognize his touch forever.
A gust of wind sends grains of sand against our skin, prickling my cheek. Xarion ignores the slight irritation, a smile curving his lips as he keeps them anchored to mine. But when the loud flap of the palm branches hits my ears, my back stiffens.
I slowly pull away from him as a dark cloud moves overhead, casting a shadow on the small oasis. The breeze picks up, rippling the stream. Then a violent current sweeps over the water, spraying us with sharp needles of water.
Holding Xarion’s gaze, I pull up the edge of my tunic to block us from the whipping wind and water, the sand building into a small dune over our feet. He grimaces as a tinkling laugh travels along the wind, and my stomach tightens. Too many thoughts rush me at once: he can hear Candra. Candra is here. Run.