Astarte's Wrath (21 page)

M
y head endlessly lashes
around as I seek another portal into the aether. Panicked, I grab a handful of sand and pitch it into the calm air. Hold my breath. Wait to see it swirl, catch on something,
anything
in the wind.

The dry grains scatter and hit the ground.

Xarion is gone.

I’m alone
.

Pain flares behind my eyes. My vision blurs, but I struggle to my feet. I’m shedding tears. I can’t stop them. They trail my cheeks, tracking through my gritty, sand-covered face. I only wipe at them to clear my vision.

My mind races.

Searching the desert, I locate my sword, then sift my hands through the sand, looking for my flask. I want to run straight back to Alexandria without pause, but I have to force my brain to focus—to plan.

The reality of how far away I am from the city—
from Xarion
—crashes over me.

“No!” I fall to my knees and drive my fists into the desert. I hit the ground again. And again.

Phoenix is with him
. This thought sobers me, and I crawl to where Xarion and I were last, near the stream, filling our flasks . . .
before
.

With trembling hands, I fill the copper vessel and tuck it inside my bag. I dig out and leave behind my blankets and anything else that will decrease my speed by even a fraction of a second. My fingers skim over the serpent necklace, my hand trembling. With a nod of conviction and a hard sniff, I fasten the golden asp around my neck.

Phoenix is with him
.

I run.

As I pump my arms, dig my feet into the loose sand, I chant those words. Over and over. I have to believe that Phoenix will stop Candra from handing Xarion over to Octavian. That even if he fails—

I will make it to Xarion in time.

A cry tears from my throat as my feet trip over themselves in the soft sand. Frustrated, I emblaze my arms with crackling fury and direct a stream before my path. The sand hardens. Expending my full power, I keep a steady current of Charge flowing, and run.

My sandals hit the hard matter a moment after it transforms. I barrel on like this, a flash of white-blue ferocity, carving a glass route through the desert.

It feels as if
fire is consuming every muscle in my body; in my legs, my back, my arms. In my heart.

My chest heaves, and I gasp as I bend over and void the last liquid contents of my previously-emptied stomach. I jerk out my flask and rinse my mouth.

Pulling myself up straight, I stare at the mouth of the tunnel, unsure if I should take it back to the Library or try another entrance into Alexandria.

I quickly go over my options, my panic starting to flare again. Every second I’m not moving is a second lost to Xarion. Holding my stomach, I pace, trying to clear him from my mind for just one moment so I can think logically.

Candra knew of our escape route because of Lunia. I grit my teeth, push the traitor from my thoughts. Candra will either have the secret access barricaded, where I’ll be trapped amid the catacombs, or she’ll have posted guardians near to capture me.

I shake my half-empty flask. It took us a full day to reach the oasis. If she’s barricaded the entrance, I’ll not only lose twelve hours, I’ll be out of water after I’m forced to backtrack. It’s too great a gamble.

But she’s surely got every gate into Alexandria guarded. And the walls watched. I’ll not cross into Alexandria without being spotted.

Turning my face up toward the failing light, I mutter a curse. I curse the gods. I curse Cleopatra. I curse everyone. Xarion has done nothing to deserve this fate. He’s but a piece on a game board in the middle of political tumult.

Either direction I choose, Candra knows I’m coming. She’s waiting. She’s too egomaniacal to have simply ended my life in the desert when she had the chance. That’s why she wanted me buried instead or giving an order to have me killed. She wants me to see her become an immortal one. She wants to look into my eyes and show me she’s won before she destroys me.

Her pride is my ally.

I take off toward the tunnel, prepared to blast my way through the barricaded hatch if I must.

I’ll make the task of capturing me easy for her minions. Just as long as I’m able to look into her cold, hard eyes before I end her.

Two days have passed
since our party first dispersed from Alexandria. By the time I reach the underground entrance of the Library, it’s been a full day since I last touched Xarion.

It’s been too long.

I’ve only allowed myself two hours of sleep, and that wasn’t my choice. My body collapsed from exhaustion and mental fatigue. I don’t berate myself for this anymore, as I know I’m no good to Xarion if I’m too weak to fight for him.

I swallow the last sip of water, then toss the flask and bag to the ground. No movement or noise comes from above. But that doesn’t mean they’re not waiting for me. I consider unleashing my Charge on the hatch; the element of surprise. It may be my only chance to break through their forces. Only my body is taxed, and I want to conserve my energy.

Placing one hand and one foot on the rungs, I whisper a prayer. Then I climb.

The latch gives at the first tug. A hollow
bang
echoes through the Library, and the element of surprise is lost. I hold my breath and wait, summoning my Charge. But no footsteps come.

My defense goes on high.
This isn’t right
.

I reach for the last rung to pull myself up and a pale hand grabs my arm. I scream, and unloose a current into my would-be captor.

“Gods—Star!”

Phoenix’s voice is nearly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

“Oh, Isis,” I say, latching on to his neck as he pulls me out of the tunnel.

He brings me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. The scent of ashes and smoldering embers engulf me. “How are you here?” I ask, moving out of his embrace so I can look into his eyes.

His face is smudged with soot and blood and earth. His irises illuminate the dark room around us, radiating a fierce red. “I couldn’t defeat Candra.”

My heart thuds painfully against my breastbone. “Xarion?”

Sucking a deep breath into his lungs, Phoenix nods once. “She took him to Octavian. I was only able to escape because Lunia wouldn’t attack me at her command, and the other Leymak was too wounded.”

“How long ago? When did she take him?”

His mouth drops at the corners. “Star, we arrived here in a mere flash. Within moments of leaving you in the desert.” Fear barbs my chest. “I searched for allies, but the Narcos have revolted against the Ptolemies. They’re disillusioned, believing Candra will free them. What Shythe survived, fled. I only just made it to the Library, hoping you’d risk it. Thank the gods you did.” He hugs me again, and I swallow.

“And you’re not grateful to her?” I cling to him, fearful I’ll lose him to her madness as well. “You wanted your freedom, Phoenix. I don’t understand.”

My legs begin to tremble, my body giving out from the long trek, stress, and lack of sleep and nourishment. Phoenix lowers himself and scoops me into his arms, then walks us to a desk.

Placing me on the stool, he sighs. “I was going to be freed before. And I’d have rather been freed by the pharaohs than this—” He motions toward the open door revealing the destruction of the city. “At least Caesarion’s way would’ve been honorable. Candra is one frightening bitch.”

Once he takes the seat opposite me, I shake my head. “Phoenix. What are you saying?”

A slight but sad smile curves his mouth. “Caesarion spoke to me right before we left. He was planning to release the Kythan once the war was over.” His jaw clenches. “He didn’t tell you.”

“No.” Before we even left Alexandria, before we knew what was to be the outcome, Xarion had planned for our future. Tears brim my eyes. He was never coming back to his home. At least not for a long time. His mother needed the army of Kythan to battle Octavian, but once the war was finished, Xarion had her vow to release the guardians’ slavery binds.

To release me.

I know that was his plan before Phoenix confirms it. Though he doesn't know the whole truth.

“He discovered how to use that ancient relic to release us,” Phoenix says. “I was angry when I first suspected that you and him—” He shakes his head, his matted hair brushes his bare shoulders. “I was jealous you’d be free and I’d be stuck a slave. I’m a foul-tempered Narco, what can I say?”

“Phoenix . . .”

“But I was wrong. You deserve happiness, as does he. Who am I to pass judgment? Look at
my
ways.”

I smile. Though in the midst of our near hopeless situation, it’s fleeting. “I never thought your ways were wrong.”

“I know. And yours shouldn’t be. No one should dictate who you can love. And, Caesarion is still my king. And you’re my friend.” He takes my hand. “Even if he hadn’t told me I was to be freed, I’d still fight alongside you. If it’s my life, I’ll risk it. If I don’t try, then I’ll be bound by my guilt forever. I’ll never truly be free.”

My heart swells, and I grip his hand back. “How long do we have?”

His eyes dim. “Octavian announced the king of Egypt would be punished for his crime against Rome come morning.”

Chapter Twenty

P
hoenix yanks out an
oversized robe from his sack. “Put this on.”

I slip my arms into the sleeves, my muscles aching with the slightest of movements. We’ve avoided the subject of Lunia, and that’s for the best. I don’t wish to know his feelings on the matter of her betrayal. Because when we face them, I won’t hesitate to kill her if she stands in my way. And I don’t want him trying to talk me out of that.

Not right now.

Now, my only concern is stealing a lavender tonic so that I can force my brain to sleep. I repeatedly remind myself that Xarion is safe. In captivity and possibly being tortured—but he’s
alive
.

I need rest in order to plot our next move. I need to know where and how he’s being kept, how many guardians and soldiers watch him, and whether or not Candra has already been given the scepter.

If she’s not yet attempted to transform herself into some undefeatable abomination, then I still have a chance. If I fail to break Xarion out of his confines, then I need to be present during
her
moment—and am counting on Candra’s arrogance to make that happen.

I’m too drained to reason it all now. But I will. We will. Phoenix and I will save Xarion.

It’s my only choice.

As Phoenix and I leave the Library and step into the city, my breath catches.

The paved streets are cracked. Broken limestone smolders in piles of ember. Monuments are defaced. Statues heads loped off at the neck. And lining the Canopic are crosses. Bodies nailed to the beams. Dried brown-tinged blood stains the wood below their bare, spiked feet.