Astarte's Wrath (17 page)

I only pray that her fears are never realized.

The cool sea breeze blows against my face, and I lift my head. Allow the scent and feel of my home to comfort me. I stand on my chamber terrace, trying to memorize the way the light of Pharos glimmers on the harbor waters. The way the distant sound of crashing waves—the city’s constant music; its rhythm—soothes me.

Soon, the sounds and smells and comforts will be but a memory, and I want to imprint them on my
Ba
. I miss my home already.

“I’ve found you.”

I turn to see Xarion leaning against the frame of my terrace door. A slight smile curves his beautiful lips, and his arms are crossed over his bronze muscled cuirass.

Feeling brave, I slip close and wrap my arms around his waist, the brass studs of his belt pressing against my stomach. “I wasn’t hiding,” I say, looking up into his face. I can see his exhaustion there, in the dark crescents under his eyes, though he’s putting on a good front. “I’d never tempt a great hunter.”

He chuckles as he steps away long enough to slip off his breastplate, then he embraces me. Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “You’re always tempting.” Running his thumb over my cheek, he lowers his face before mine, his breaths shallow. “In fact, your power of seduction is having its desired effect on me right now.” His lips softly brush mine, sweet and inviting at first, then he deepens the kiss.

I realize that anyone could walk in, and I begin to pull away. “Xarion, my room is not secure,” I say between his kisses.

He groans against my lips, and the deep rumble sends my hands into his hair, pulling him to me. I feel him smile. He scoops me into his arms, his lips never leaving mine, and walks us inside.

My sense breaks through, and I whisper, “Lunia or Phoenix could come looking for me and—”

“That’s what locks were designed for,” he interrupts.

I laugh. “Oh, that will not stop either of them.”

He turns the bolt on my door, keeping his arm sturdy beneath my legs. Then he takes me to the bed where he lays me down. I let my head fall back against the coverlet as he hovers above me, his fisted hands pressing into the mattress on either side of my head, his knees parting my legs.

Suddenly he bounds up, and I think he’s come to his senses. My stomach tumbles as I realize how much I
don’t
want him to be responsible—but we can’t chance it here. Only he grabs the chair from my desk and kicks the back. My eyes widen in surprise. He places one of the panels against the door, securing its ends in the torch brackets.

“That should give them some difficulty,” he says as he unbuckles his belt, the action making my heart beat wildly. “And give me enough time to hide in your dressing room like a clandestine lover.”

A smile twitches at my lips. “You mean, like exactly what you are?”

Shaking his head, his dark hair falling against his eyes, he counters, “I’m offended.” He strips off his leather armor. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes slip over him, and a crooked smile hikes his face. “Ah, but that does it for you, huh? You like stealing kisses in the shadows, the constant fear of being caught.” Climbing onto the bed, he positions himself above me. “I bet your heart is pounding hard right now, the adrenaline claiming your body”—he presses his palm over my heart—“with a need only your clandestine lover can satisfy.”

I breathe deeply through the hitch in my throat, the feel of his hand on my chest causing my breath to catch. “Cocky little king. You assume you’re the only thing that gives me satisfaction?”

His smile widens as he lifts one of my arms and kisses the sensitive skin of my wrist. “If there is something in this world that can please you more than me,” he says, his warm breath caressing my skin, “then I’ll be extra diligent in my duties tonight, my queen. Indulge me with every sensation that gives you pleasure, and I will match it and more.”

Whatever retort was on my tongue vanishes, his heated words stealing all reason from my mind. Only one lingers: queen. Hearing him refer to me as his intended opens my heart like the sea opens to the sky, and I am his.

I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his palm, my eyes closing, as I inflict as much emotion into my action as possible. “I love you,” I whisper. The pang in my heart spreads, thundering through my body.

We’ve danced around the outcome once this all ends; avoiding ruining what precious time we have together before we’re fleeing. But in moments like this, the knowledge that all that we have, all that we are together, could be stripped away—frightens me more than any punishment for our crime.

Xarion runs his free hand up my thigh, along my waist, tugging my shift above my stomach. As he presses his soft lips to my flesh, I tremble. His breath whispers over my skin as he says, “I love you with all that I am.”

Slipping my shift over my head, he moves his body fully on top of mine. His fingers glide through my hair, his lips meet the hollow of my neck, skimming the inked symbol, and I push all thoughts of possible loss and our undetermined future away.

And as he rocks into me, making good on his promise to please every sensation my body longs for, I dig my fingers into his back, grasping him as if I can hold on strong enough to keep us together.

As the sun rises
over the harbor, I find myself again staring into the horizon. With every whip of the breeze, I shudder, envisioning the wind pushing Octavian’s ships through the sea, bringing him nearer.

Closer to us.

I loose the thread of my curtain and shut out the wind, as if I can stop its might. Then I dress for the day. Xarion stole away to his chamber before the palace awoke. The excuse he gives his guards for being out all night is a lousy one—reading at the Library. But with the stress of war busying everyone, I doubt his guards will think anything damning.

Besides, he has a personal guardian with him at all times. A smile flits across my face.

After I push my feet into my sandals, I grab my bands and cuff my arms, trying to ignore the eerie feeling creeping over me. Like I’m so far removed from myself, on the outside looking in. As if this will be the last time I ready myself in the palace.

The feeling seizes me so violently that I don’t bother belting my sash, and instead grab it and my sword and rush into the corridor. On my way to Xarion’s room, I nearly crash into Habi.

Placing his hands on my shoulders, he steadies my unbalance before I stumble back. “Star,” he says, and I hear the strain in his deep voice. He’s not surprised to see me because he was on his way to my room. “Come with me.” He jerks his head, and I swallow hard.

“General, what’s happened?” I fall in step behind him, my thoughts swirling in a vortex of speculation. When he doesn’t answer, I demand, “Tell me now.”

He turns on me, and even though I should regret speaking to my superior as I did, I don’t. And he doesn’t reprimand my insolence. “Octavian’s ships have been spotted from Pharos.”

A cold numbness snakes through my body. My legs freeze, but Habi tugs me forward, and somehow I make it to the Councils’ chamber without fail. I scan the many serious and downcast faces around the table. There was no miscommunication on Habi’s part. My premonition was right. The wind is bringing Octavian to our shore.

When my eyes land on Cleopatra, I have the sudden urge to comfort her. She’s dressed in black, as if she’s in mourning, and a veil covers half of her face, keeping it hidden. I want to assure her once again that I will protect Xarion—that he will be safe with me.

She bounds from her seat, Set’s
was
scepter in her hand. “Tonight, we war.”

Cheers from the gathered guardians rise up, echo off the walls. But I stand still, my focus on our queen and the thing Candra will kill for at her side. She gives me a slight nod.

My heart skips a beat.

It’s her signal. Tonight, we
run
.

Chapter Fifteen

I
can feel Candra
becoming anxious through the aether. She says nothing, but sends her restless energy, making me aware of how impatient she is to finally capture Xarion and become an immortal.

A god.

She has nothing tying her to the Ptolemies. Not like the Kythan, who’ve been serving them for over three-hundred years. To her, that time is but a blink. She may be new, but she’s connected to something that has been in existence since the beginning of time. And she plans to outlive even it—turning the tide and having the humans serve her.

I’m only thankful it doesn’t appear she or her Leymak minions have been able to form an alliance with any other guardian. Phoenix assures me there is no talk among the Narcos of revolt. I trust my friends and Habi, and nearly all of my kindred Shythe. As Phoenix once stated, the Shythe are content. We have no reason to start a rebellion. But I may have exaggerated my words then for his benefit, claiming we’re no different than the Narcos.

We are.

And I can’t trust that the fiery-tempered Narcos wouldn’t have a moment of weakness where they’d trade their soul for a chance at freedom. It’s best they never discover her theory. Because deep beneath my own fears, I do believe that all should be equal. I was afraid to
want
another life for myself, scared to
want
a love with Xarion that could never be. However now, I desire that freedom to choose my own path with my whole being. And all should have the right to choose that for themselves. But breaking the Kythan binds shouldn’t be done by Candra. Not like this. Not at the death of another.

And I don’t trust her.

Regardless if she’s able to awaken the old magics within the
was
scepter and free the Kythan, I don’t trust that she’d release them from
her
control. She’s too power-hungry, too superior. I’m unsure what level of power would be enough for her. If any.

One thing is certain: she has no power over the pharaoh’s Kythan. And she should never possess that power.

Phoenix, Lunia, and I go over our inventory once again in the queen’s secured rooms. We pack lightly for our trek across the desert’s rough terrain, quietly reviewing our supplies, as we wait for Xarion to join us—and our moment.

After seeing the
was
scepter in the queen’s hand, commanding her guardians for war, I considered taking the amulet with us, to get it as far from Candra’s reach as possible. But it would be like a bright beacon, a target on Xarion. We can’t have it anywhere near him, but at least I was able to explain Candra’s demented scheme to Cleopatra. And I discovered our queen is not only fluent in many different languages, she’s a prodigy.

I only pray there’s never a need for her reserved plot to be evoked.

Glancing at the door, I wait nervously for Xarion. He’s across the hall saying his goodbyes to his family. After struggling with how to leave his siblings—with or with no last words—he decided if he should never see them again, he wanted to be remembered for who he was, not how Octavian will depict him.

I fight the urge to go to him, to reassure him that he’ll reunite with them again, when he enters. “It’s almost time,” he says. Darkened half-moons frame his eyes. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Habi announced that the warships entered the breakwaters just minutes ago.”

“We need to move,” Phoenix says, grabbing his sword.

Lunia and I share a look. Alarm storms her eyes. We tuck our sacks under our arms as Xarion pulls on a neutral-colored robe, tugging the hood around his face. Then we follow Phoenix through the door.

Xarion halts just outside, waiting for me. I slip my hand in his as I move beside him, and he squeezes my fingers reassuringly. As we travel silently through the dark corridor, we do not make promises of returning home, or declarations of finding a safe, new home of our own. We don’t speak of the future, and what it could mean for us. Or what it may change.

There is only now.

My duty to protect him.

We reach the outside of the palace and the sky is overcast, dimming the world in shades of gray. As if the gods have painted the scenery for the show to come. Lightning flickers in the ink-swollen bellies of the clouds. Thunder cracks, and a loud
boom
shakes the ground.