Return Once More (16 page)

But those guards wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I tried to get anywhere near Caesarion, and we'd probably have to rehash his previous assumptions if he woke and found me in his bed. Instead of taking unnecessary chances, I snagged a money pouch off the stand by the door, backed out into the hallway, and tramped down the stairs, remembering at the last moment that only whores or servants would be conducting themselves with so little propriety.

The dining area would work as a place to safely pass the time until Caesarion woke and prepared to move on for the day. The inn was small and a little smelly—the floors were packed with dirt and straw and the wooden tables wobbled under my elbows. Early morning sunlight warmed the room until sweat coated my skin under the light tunic and skirt, but the smell of food coming from the kitchen kicked my stomach into a grumble. I'd skipped breakfast again.

No one spared me more than one curious glance. The innkeeper's wife took my order and returned to plop down the food, mumbling something about milking the cows before leaving through the open door. My happiness at being out on an adventure in the fresh air of Earth Before, with no need to return to the Academy anytime soon, warred with my bubbling fear that the chip wouldn't work. That I'd get caught. That I'd accidentally change something important. I shoved the worries down into my center and locked them away before panic could overtake my excitement. There would be plenty of time for regret later. I wouldn't waste today.

Another patron joined me, an elderly man who slurped his broth and avoided eye contact, then left a coin on the table and shuffled out before the innkeeper's wife returned from her morning chores. The denarius I'd swiped off the dresser bought me a bowl of broth and a hunk of bread, which I gnawed for the next hour, every bite ramping up the impressive headache my bio-tat imparted in exchange for my interaction with the past. The pain retreated with a poof when Caesarion appeared at the bottom of the wooden stairs.

The sight of his sleepy midnight eyes squeezed my lungs into oblivion, and even though staring was impolite, I couldn't stop. When his gaze found mine, the delighted surprise that sprang onto his face pulled my heart into my throat. I could almost hear his thoughts from across the room, could feel the rush of relief that gushed through me at being in the same space as him pour through Caesarion's blood as well.

Perhaps I'd imagined it and he felt nothing. Perhaps the True Companion calculations were nothing but parlor tricks and games invented to entertain us, to prove that true love wasn't a necessary factor in human happiness. But right now, staring into his eyes while we both grinned like fools and my knees turned to jelly, my heart believed.

He waved his royal guard out of the room with instructions to saddle the horses. One older man, likely his personal servant, limped toward the kitchen. Caesarion crossed to my side, taking a seat across the table from me. His smile turned a bit shy, very unlike the first time we met, and infected my heart with a strange flutter.

“I dreamed I would see you again, mysterious Kaia. But I did not believe it would be in a ratty inn on the road to nowhere.”

My smile felt wobbly. Words jammed between my head and my mouth refused to be spit out. After a moment of silence he leaned forward, elbows on the table. My body responded almost of its own accord, and I copied his posture until our faces were close enough that we shared breath.

“All roads lead somewhere,” I managed, finally.

He gave me a sad smile. “That is true. Since the Hathors long ago foretold my untimely death, perhaps Tuat or Aaru has always been my destination.”

My bio-tat explained that ancient Egyptians believed the entirety of their lives were laid bare at birth to the Hathors—sort of like witches, or seven ladies akin to the Greek Fates—who predicted the high and low points of every child's life until death.

“Is death not everyone's destination?”

“You are beautiful
and
wise. I have had many years to come to terms with my fate, but after meeting you in the gardens I began to wish for more time.”

“Is that possible?”

“
Inshallah,
” he whispered.

“
Inshallah,
” the tattoo forced me to reply.

The phrase filtered through my ears and into my brain. The computer threaded into the base of my skull struggled with an exact translation. The term was a unique one that encapsulated a universe of beliefs into a single word, and the tat finally spit out a close estimation:
If God is willing.

“Part of me wishes to demand you explain your reappearance, but the rest does not wish to know—there have been so few mysteries in my life.”

Someone cleared his throat behind me, saving me from having to comment. Caesarion tore his eyes from mine, irritation coloring his cheeks as he looked up.

“It's time to depart,” the voice said, a whisper of apology beneath the gruff words.

The guards couldn't treat Caesarion in a proper manner since he was in hiding and on the run. His fine fabrics and kohl-smudged eyes—not to mention his shaved head—all betrayed class, but certainly not to the degree in which Pharaoh would normally tour the countryside.

“I will be out momentarily.” The presence at my back receded and my True Companion's gaze turned back to mine. “I have never believed that my fate could be escaped, or even that a reason existed to plead with the gods to consider sparing me.”

“Then why leave Alexandria at all?”

“The innate will to live, I suppose. Reconciling with one's fate is not the same as standing passively by, waiting for a power-hungry man to end my life.” He paused, then reached out a darkly tanned hand to cover mine, adding a throbbing component to the stabbing pain in my temple. “Perhaps meeting you is reason enough to live these last days afforded to me.”

My heart flattened and tried to beat, aching in my chest. Nerve endings zapped a hopeless mass of confused emotions through me until I wanted to kiss him and laugh and sob all at once. His finger wiped the wetness from my cheeks and my skin ignited in its wake even as the painful fingers demanding I pull away reached further down my spine. It was strange, the pleasure of touching him combined with the pain that insisted it was wrong.

My own confusion was reflected in his dusky eyes, smothered in something like wonder. I pressed his hand against my cheek. “I don't want to think about you dying.”

His gaze sharpened, probing mine for answers to questions he must have about my identity, about how I'd managed to find him here in this out-of-the-way place. “You do not seem surprised to learn of my fate.”

“I'm not,” I said simply. If he demanded an explanation I would be tempted to provide it, no matter that telling people in the past about the future was strictly forbidden. Putting lies between us left a bad taste in my mouth, but in the end, he saved me by not asking.

“I would like to stay and talk with you, but I must away, I'm afraid.” He dropped his hand from my cheek and stood.

“Could I travel with you? I can't … I couldn't stay much past nightfall, but I, too, like the idea of more time.”

“It is not appropriate for a lady of your station.”

His slight frown gave him a serious appearance, like a little boy who thought he was being tricked into doing something he shouldn't. After his mistake regarding the reason for my presence in the gardens, I couldn't blame him, but couldn't suppress a giggle, either. “There is much you don't know about me, Caesarion, but we can start with the fact that I am unconcerned with what others might think of our friendship.”

“Very well. I trust you can ride a horse.”

Well, hell.

*

My bio-tat struggled more than a little with forcing my limbs to ride a horse. The knowledge was there but felt rudimentary and awkward, as though programmed haphazardly on the off chance a Historian might need to mount a horse. It had been six hours since we left the inn just south of Cairo and my legs had numbed from hip to toe. They felt permanently bowed, and when Caesarion helped me down for a rest stop, my trek to the banks of a Nile tributary could have only been described as a waddle.

Fantastic. I finally got to spend a day with Caesarion and not only did I smell like horse, I had been reduced to walking like a penguin. Sexy.

The more we talked, and the more accustomed I became to the electric magnetism of being in his presence, the fonder I became of the person underneath his handsome exterior. He differed from me in so many ways, but now was acting less Pharaoh-ish than the boy I'd encountered during our first meeting in the gardens. Not less confident but less superior, as if he knew the life he'd been born into would never be the same. With every step away from Alexandria, he let the pretenses of Pharaoh go and slipped effortlessly into life as simple Caesarion.

He didn't seem to notice my borderline paralysis as we dismounted, asking the older manservant who had gathered provisions this morning to set food out on a woolen blanket, then invited me to sit. The guards and servant left us alone, wading to their knees in the cool, burbling water. I was tempted to join them—the dust from the road clung to my sweat-sticky skin in multiple layers and there was no way my hair hadn't poofed to three times its normal size.

In the end, talking with Caesarion tempted me more than cooling off and I dropped next to him, sticking my legs out in front of me to try to unglue my thighs. He noticed the black leggings that I'd tugged to my calves and reached out to touch them, but then stopped short, as though unsure I'd allow it. I
had
given him hell for grabbing me uninvited in the gardens.

Something like fear darkened his expression. “What are these?”

“Nothing.” I pushed my tunic and skirts back into place, and he frowned again like he had at the inn, as though he suspected some sort of trick. “Do you really want to talk about clothing now that we have a few moments alone?”

“I suppose not. It is curious, though.
You
are curious.” He opened a loose woven basket and extracted a bundle of linen, unwrapping a pile of dates and a flat chunk of bread. “Why were you in the gardens the other day? And why had we never met?”

“I thought you wished to leave me my mysteries.”

“I've changed my mind. It's too much to bear, the curiosity.”

“I come from somewhere else. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.”

The system of planets that made up Genesis would not be discovered for thousands of years. The concept would be as foreign to him as a movie or bacteria or automatic weapons.

“Tell me something about yourself, then. That I will believe.” He popped a date in his mouth and offered the pile to me, his keen eyes never leaving mine.

My whole body wanted to smile; it felt swollen and lit up under his gaze. “I'm seventeen. I have wonderful parents and a brother and friends that are very dear to me.”

Caesarion waved a hand, dismissing my litany. “No. Something about
you
, Kaia.”

The touch of his fingers on my cheek startled me and I barely managed to stop myself from jerking away. Caesarion's dark-blue gaze held mine as he brushed away errant hairs that had escaped the bun twisted at the back of my head. The sound and smells of this ancient world intensified around us; heady perfume infused the breeze wafting under my nose, the sound of the wide river tripping over its rocks became tinkling musical bells.

With the inappropriate physical gesture, Pharaoh emerged again. Unlike before, this time the power surrounding him didn't scare me. It thrilled me. His hand lingered against my skin, the pain meds I'd popped managing to dull the ache as the bio-tat attempted to make me act according to custom.

All of the biological reactions in my body would be recorded. Which meant somewhere, a comp knew I was sweating, that my heart was racing, and that my skin felt alive for the second time in my entire life. But it couldn't guess why.

“I hate watching terrible things happen and not being able to stop them. I can't save anyone.” It was the truest thing about me. I wanted to save people, not watch them die.

The expression on his face shifted at my confession, moving from entranced to curious in the blink of an eye. The whispered revelation had surprised me as much as him.

Did it mean my aptitude had tested wrong? Or maybe it meant that, like Oz, I would get more satisfaction from studying how to use the terrible things that had happened to save people in the future instead of continuing to stand by and witness them in the past.

“We cannot be saved, Kaia. Our destinies are set as we take our first breath, and though we can decide how to live the years we've been afforded, we cannot change the events and people that will shape our lives.” He dropped his hand, picking up another date. “Like you. I think the gods have foreseen your entry into my life at this crucial moment.”

I wished I could believe in cosmic fate as opposed to science and human nature. Life would be simpler, perhaps, but that wasn't the same as better.

“You believe in cruel gods, Caesarion, who would see fit for someone such as you—who has done nothing to deserve death—to be taken so soon.”

“I believe in gods. They are neither cruel not gentle, but simply other. They see the tapestry of life in a vast painting. We are specks, alive for a moment and then gone, like sparks off a fire. Do not fault them for not caring, as we do not take time to mourn the beetle crushed beneath our sandals.” His smile turned sad. “I am glad you are here.”

“I'm glad, too. Now, tell me something about you,” I said, trying for a lighter tone and crossing my eyes at him while I stole the pile of dates and tore off a piece of flat bread.

“I can't believe there would be anything you do not already know about your Pharaoh,” he teased back, the sunlight dappling shadow across his tanned face.