Moving to the center of the balcony, Candra flutters her hands, straining to hold her place. I can feel her battle, the spirit realm trying to close the window. I wonder how difficult it is for her to fight the barrier to stay here. “You’ll serve him till he’s an old man, withering and dying,” she says. “He’ll never take you as his other half, probably not even as a mistress into his bed.”
“And aligning myself with you . . . would do what for me? I trade one master for another? A strong and compassionate king for a murdering tyrant?”
Her lips thin, her eyes slit. “We do not bow to Octavian. I only want his power over my life removed. If I hand Caesarion over to the Roman, he’ll give me the was scepter. A Kythan Guardian cannot simply take the relic, or else I’d have simply killed the weak sorcerer and have been done with this. The amulet has to be given to them. The sorcerers made sure the scepter was well guarded from any kind of revolt.” She lifts her chin. “Octavian is many, horrible things. I’ll admit to that. But he’s a Roman of his word. He only wants power over the world.” She chuckles. “Once he’s eradicated the threat of Caesarion stealing his throne, he will impart the was scepter to me. He’s a greedy fool with no knowledge of its true power. Oh, but he can have his Rome, his little world. I’ll be truly free—from even the gods. I’ll be a god myself.”
There’s a manic gleam in her eyes. It swirls amid the glowing silvery white, fierce and frightening. There’s little most people would fight for. Would die for. But being born of Egypt, having observed slavery—having lived it—I know freedom is the one thing all would kill for.
“And just how would handing Caesarion over to Octavian free me and all Kythan? Besides the fact the was scepter is dormant, what would stop you from becoming even more power hungry and destroying us?”
“Dormant does not mean powerless. It means sleeping. The sorcerer is but a relic himself. He may have lost the use of ancient magics in his decrepitude, but I can summon them. I can awaken the was scepter.” Lifting her chin, she holds my stare, unwavering. “I desire for no Kythan to live in slavery, Star. Upon the death of the last pharaoh of Egypt, all Kythan shall be set free of their binds. I swear it.”
Bile rises from my churning stomach, coating the back of my throat. Before I can call out her false claim, she continues. “Octavian will end the pharaoh Cleopatra, and then Xarion will be the last. Bring him to me, and the centuries of slavery under the pharaohs will end. But if you do not, then you become my enemy. I will have that scepter. I’m only offering you the chance to join me. You deserve your freedom, sister.”
I reach for my sword, wishing I could cut Candra down and silence her venom. “Leave. And don’t ever return.”
“Think about what I offer you.” Candra smiles. “When the news comes of your queen’s defeat, when plans are hastily being made to hide Caesarion away, know that Octavian will burn Alexandria to get to him. Know that we await him on the other side of the walls. And question whether or not you’re willing to sacrifice your life for one already doomed.”
“I don’t have to question it. I would.”
Another laugh tinkles from her mouth. “And I thought I was young.” She shakes her head. “I want my immortality now. I hate that Octavian holds my life over my head every day that I do not deliver the boy. Find me when you’re ready to do what’s right.”
Before I can rebuke her offer again, she vanishes into the aether, her Ka whispering lies.
After the royal children are safely tucked away in their beds, and I’ve convinced Xarion to stay in his room for the night, I slip away to the garden.
I need time to process Candra’s words. I’m not questioning my devotion, but rather allowing myself a moment to think and feel away from Xarion’s hold over me.
The calming scent of jasmine soothes my anxiety. And I’m able to rationalize what Candra told me as lies. There was no truth there. Cleopatra has not been defeated in Actium. If that were true, we’d have been given word by now. She’d have sent a message to the Council in preparation. Candra is desperate to end Octavian’s threat over her life. That is why she came here tonight. If she didn’t fear that our queen would defeat her creator, she wouldn’t be trying to persuade me to align with her so desperately.
That is a small, comforting thought. I just have to hold strong and keep Xarion hidden behind the city walls and barrier until his mother’s return. Then she’ll bring the rest of the Kythan army and we’ll annihilate the Leymak, ridding the threat against Xarion and Egypt.
But a whisper of doubt settles in my core. Why did Candra come to me? If she’s so confident in my feelings for the pharaoh, why not seek out a more likely ally? As much as I loathe the thought, a Narcolym would be a more willing ally to her over me.
I’d never sacrifice Xarion for anything—anyone. If Candra is so desperate for the scepter, she’ll have to kill me to get to Xarion. More than my binds urging me to protect the pharaoh, my heart demands it. I can’t live in a world that would steal him away.
And suddenly, I realize that is why.
Xarion trusts me. Above all his guardians, I am the one he listens to, doesn’t often command. I am the one who would question any other guardian trying to lead him past the safety of the barrier. I’m hindering Candra’s mission.
The other guardians are unable to commit treason against their master—but I am not. As Candra revealed, I’m a trusted slave. The one close enough to the pharaoh to betray him.
“Star?”
Turning to meet the person that goes with that seductive voice, I face Xarion. “I asked for time alone.”
“I know.” He’s draped in a thin linen tunic, his bare arms crossed over his chest. His face scrubbed clean of the ceremonial paint. “But your silence is driving me mad. We’ve always been able to discuss anything. I need to be assured that you’re all right.”
“I am. My wounds are nearly healed.”
“I’m concerned with more than your physical wellness.” His sandaled feet swallow the distance between us in three strides. He touches my wrapped arm, then his hand moves to my back, his fingers tracing the soft flesh of the recently healed cut on my shoulder blade. “Though I am relieved of that.” His mouth presses into a hard line. “I’m ordering the army to march on the Leymak tomorrow. I thought you should know.”
My mouth parts. “I think we should wait. At least for the full army to return before going into battle again.”
“I’ll not allow Octavian to intimidate me. I won’t hide behind walls, trapped like—”
“Xarion,” I say his name low, and his hard features relax slightly. “No one thinks you’re weak, or hiding. There is nothing to prove to your people, other than being smart and choosing the right course of action.” I reach out and touch his clenched fist. “You’ll do them no good by rushing headstrong into battle.”
His fingers twine with mine, and he releases a heavy breath. Looking at our interlocked hands, he says, “You were right before.”