Empire of Dust (29 page)

The princess stops at the bottom step and stands before them unmoving, scrutinizing them intently.

Heph must speak, despite the grisly sights of the city outside, despite the terrifying beauty of the princess in front of him. He is suddenly very glad he studied royal protocol at Pella with all the fervor of an outsider who knows he doesn't belong. King Philip often granted audiences to foreign ambassadors—the grim-faced Spartans, the charming Athenians, the bejeweled and perfumed Persians who prostrated themselves on the floor like slaves. When emissaries from the Wild Scythians rode into the throne room on short hairy horses, the king received them with the customary courtesies, not even batting an eye as one by one the animals lifted their tails and relieved themselves on the marble tiles of the throne room floor.

“Esteemed princess,” Heph says, bowing deeply, and trying to keep his voice calm and low, “we come before you as emissaries of the great prince regent, Alexander of Macedon, heir to the throne of his father, King Philip II. His highness the prince seeks an alliance with you, Princess, either through marriage, if you will do him that honor, or as a military treaty. He—”

“Silence.” She raises her palm and takes a step toward Kat. “Tell me, girl,” she says in lightly accented Greek, “how you came across such a rare and valuable item.”

Kat curtsies awkwardly, her face serious with concentration.
She's nervous
, Heph thinks.
She knows how much is at stake, and a few weeks at the palace don't make a farm girl an expert in courtly customs and foreign affairs.

“I'm sorry, Princess, but I have no item of value, just—” she begins, but again Laila interrupts.

“That.”
She reaches toward Kat's throat and Kat stands still as a statue. It's all Heph can do not to dive forward to protect Kat. But the princess's fingers brush Kat's collarbone and then lift the silver Flower of Life pendant she wears around her neck, before letting it drop again. “
This
is what I desire. You are only here because my guard spotted this amulet.”

“This?” Kat asks, as her hand flies up to touch the pendant. A shadow passes over her face. “What would a princess of your fame and wealth want with such a plain trinket? It is hardly worthy of your beauty, my lady.”

“And still, it belongs to me.” The princess deftly unclasps her capelet and throws it on the floor. There, above her heart, is a white mark in the shape of the six-petal lotus, lightly indented into her flesh.

Heph hears Kat suck in a breath. The mark looks like an exact match to the pendant.

“Your necklace,” Laila says, “is a token of the gods. It is a reminder of the source of the world's magic.”

Heph's heart skips a beat as Kat grips the amulet. He tries to remember what she told him—he has never seen her without it.

“Tell me, please, what you know of this pendant,” Kat says, lifting her chin. “It was my mother's, and I took it off her body after she was murdered. I would not part with it.”

The princess turns her head to the left and stares down at the floor as if considering what to say. Now Heph's heart skips another beat—not out of fear, but from the impact of her gorgeous profile. Strong and majestic, wildly exotic. Yet he finds her beauty too intense, blinding almost, like looking straight into a noonday sun. The moon—softer, unpredictable, and mysterious—never blinds, only washes her admirers with magical silver light. His gaze slides to Kat.

Laila, too, is staring at Kat now, her dark eyes hard and flat as obsidian. “The Flower of Life pendant is the symbol of a forgotten god,” Laila says.

Kat blanches visibly. “Are you—?”

“No.” The princess shakes her head. “I am not immortal, but neither am I mortal. I am trapped in an endless curse, doomed to exist somewhere between life and death.”

She stares at Kat a long moment, and Heph is suddenly afraid what this princess's interest might mean. Will she harm Kat? Insist on keeping her forever in this haunted city of living statues and never-ending death?

But the princess says, “As bearer of a Flower of Life pendant, you have a right to see. He can come, too.”

They follow her to an alcove between two columns where alabaster lamps glow brightly. In the center is a tall bronze tripod filled to the brim with water, and floating on the water are three large lotus flowers, the long, pointed petals white at their base, purple at their tips. In the center of each burns a tiny oil lamp.

Laila moves the blooms, and the water ripples. “Look into the water.”

Heph and Kat peer into the basin, and for a moment, he sees only ripples. But then the lines on the water seem to arrange themselves into images—distorted faces, buildings expanding and contracting—and then he clearly sees the throne room. Laila is on the throne, just as beautiful but with the pale skin of palace beauties who scorn the sun and bathe in milk.

“I was quite proud of my beauty,” she says quietly. Heph pulls his gaze away from the water to her face, which is solemn, almost repentant. He glances at Kat, who still stares at the water. “And I loved toying with men's affections, driving them wild with desire for me. Look.” She gestures to the water.

In the water, Heph sees the image of two men striding into the throne room, both tall and powerfully built, with shoulder-length blond hair. The men are handsome, one with eyes as blue as lapis lazuli, and the other with eyes like polished emeralds.

“It was long after the great battle of gods and monsters when the brothers arrived,” Laila says, and Heph starts slightly, surprised to hear her voice so close to his ear. He glances up to see that the princess has leaned over the basin as well, her black hair draping forward to hide her face.

“They were powerful sorcerers, or so I thought, and looking back on it, I think I enjoyed playing with fire, setting one against the other, wanting to discover just how far their passion for me would drive them, though at the time it felt like pain, not vanity. Riel, the one with green eyes, promised me eternal life, but Brehan, his brother, offered me eternal love.”

She looks up at the ceiling as if searching for answers, then back at the water. “In the end, I made the wrong choice. The scorned brother marched through this city, driven by a murderous rage.”

Princess Laila gives the lotuses another nudge, and the water ripples again. Heph sees a dark street. Wild-eyed horses gallop by whinnying in terror as lightning bolts blast buildings apart and strike panic-stricken people dead.

“He killed every living thing within my lovely city,” Laila says. “Every living thing, except for me.”

“But...the soldiers,” Kat says, gesturing to the unmoving dark shapes in the throne room.

Laila nods. “
Ushabtis
—a final gift to serve and protect me. Formed from the earth, with magic spells carved on their bodies.
”

Ushabtis.
Heph learned about them from Leonidas: small clay statues with magical markings that Egyptians put in tombs to serve the dead spirit, baking, cleaning, and preparing food. He and Alex had laughed at the silliness of Egyptians believing the statues could actually grow to human size and serve as commanded. Of course, the
ushabtis
in tombs and those he saw in the marketplaces of Memphis had been created by human potters, not sorcerers.

“I've been trapped here ever since, permitted to enjoy my city as it was during the day but doomed to watch it return to its destruction every sunset.”

Laila holds up her brown hands and examines them critically. “I must bathe in the sun all day long, soaking up its life-giving rays, or else I, too, start to look like a corpse.”

Her beauty suddenly strikes Heph as ghastly. “What sorcerer has such power?” he asks. “I have never heard—not even in the time of Troy when magic was much stronger—of such evil spells as these.”

Laila traces her finger along the edge of the basin. “You are right, Hephaestion,” she says. “These brothers were no mere sorcerers, but the last of the gods.”

“I have never heard of these gods,” Kat says. “Zeus and Apollo, Athena and Poseidon, all of those and many others, yes. But Riel and Brehan?”

“You only heard of those who wanted to be worshipped, to receive sacrifices at temples,” Laila says, leaning against the tripod and staring at the water. “Not all gods desired that. Riel used to say that he wanted real power, not slaughtered goats and mumbled prayers. But those gods you mentioned, in fact all of those you know, were either killed by monsters or fled the earthly realm for safety.”

“No one has seen the gods for centuries,” Kat says, her voice trembling. “They used to walk among men, fight with them on the battlefield, disguise themselves as beggars to test the charity of people they visited. People say the gods fell asleep. But you're saying that's not true. They are...”

“Gone. Not on earth anymore. The age of Gods has ended, Katerina. A new age is coming, though whether it will be an Age of Men or of Monsters, I do not know.”

“Why did those two—Riel and Brehan—remain on earth?” Heph asks. “Why didn't they flee like the others?”

“They fought a great evil and used up most of their divine power, remaining trapped in mortal form. Riel told me that they had sired many mortal children with many women. Brehan's children possessed Earth Blood, and Riel's offspring Snake Blood.” Her flashing dark eyes rise to meet Kat's. “Your pendant, Katerina, is a symbol of Earth Blood.”

“But, Princess,” Kat says, wrinkling her forehead, “are you sure this is a symbol of Earth Blood? I don't know my pendant's history, other than that my mother gave it to me. But Ada of Caria told me it was used by Snake Bloods when we—when they—go into a trance.”

Laila nods, the many golden rosettes in her wig glittering in the torchlight. “That is correct. As Brehan's token of Earth Blood,” she says, “the pendant balances the effects of Snake Blood. Without it, those with Snake Blood can become trapped inside an animal or inside someone else's mind. They can succumb to insanity. The scorned god said my curse would last until I found a pendant to match the scar.”

Laila stares hungrily at Kat's pendant, and the air between them pulses with tension. Heph's hand moves slowly to his sword hilt. “And now,” Laila purrs, “after five hundred years, you are here.”

Kat steps back from the princess, and her hand flutters again to her necklace.

A short burst of laughter comes from Laila, but it contains no mirth. “How will you prevent me from having my guards cut you down so I can take it?” She takes a step toward Kat.

Without thinking, Heph draws his sword and steps in front of Kat. His sword is heavy and feels right in his hand. In a single movement, the
ushabti
guards draw their own swords—swords of glinting iron, not clay—and circle him.

Laila tilts her head, revealing her long, slender neck. “Are you really thinking of sacrificing yourself for her? I cannot die. You must know that if you make one move toward me, you and she shall both be dead one heartbeat later.”

Heat rushes to the back of Heph's neck at the princess's mocking tone. “I know it's foolish, lady, but I cannot stand by while Katerina is threatened.”

Laila reaches out a long, tanned arm, and traces Heph's jaw with her finger. He is paralyzed by a touch like freezing metal.

“Such a handsome boy,” she says quietly. “I can feel your love for her, and it warms my heart, something that hasn't happened in a long, long time.”

Though his body is rooted to the floor, Heph's mind reels. Did Kat hear the princess? He wants to look at her, but he can't seem to wrench his eyes away from Laila, who holds him in a long stare. She seems to be looking not just into his eyes but directly into his heart.

Laila pulls her hand away from his face and sighs, a sigh that whistles through the throne room and makes all the oil lamps flicker and almost go out.

“There has been no love in this city for five hundred years,” she says. “You, Hephaestion of Pella, look as Brehan once did at the end—willing to die for me.”

The princess twists her gold signet ring inscribed with magical symbols. Heph sees a bird, a star, and an eye among them. Then she seems to come to some decision.

“I will be merciful to honor the memory of love,” she says, her dark eyes bright with tears as she stares first at Heph, then Kat. “If you give me what I require, I promise that when this city is but ash under the sun, you will find the pendant among the ruins. Do you accept?”

“It is not my decision to make, Princess,” he says, looking at Kat, who still grasps the pendant in her hand. “The Flower of Life belongs to Katerina. Ask her if she will do as you wish.”

Kat doesn't look at Laila but at Heph when she replies, simply, “Yes.” The word sends a powerful thrill through Heph's body, and he realizes he will likely never know all the meanings contained in that yes.

Laila's entire body relaxes and a true smile spreads across her lips for the first time. “Make sure you take good care of it, Katerina of Pella. I have a vision—unclear, though it is—that in your hour of need, it shall save you, too.”

She runs a hand gently through Kat's golden-brown hair and closes her eyes as if searching for something with her mind. “What's this?” she asks, her eyes opening wide. “You are wounded. I feel betrayal, pain, almost murder. Where is this wound?”

Kat raises her right hand, the bandaged forefinger much shorter than it should be.

“Ah,” the princess says softly, carefully taking Kat's hand in hers. “And in return for the pendant, Katerina, I will give you something in return. Remove the bandages.”

Katerina's eyes dart to Heph. Though Laila seems to tolerate their presence, he does not entirely trust this bewitched and bewitching princess.