A small smile forms on my mouth. But as my eyes take in his features, they settle on the white jagged scar running through his right eyebrow, the only imperfection marring his otherwise perfect face. A pang of guilt sweeps over me so violently I press my hand against his chest, and Xarion reluctantly releases me.
“You know this is my duty, Pharaoh,” I say, my eyes seeking something other t
han the scar, the reminder of the one time I wasn’t there to protect him. From palace thieves, of all things. Simple, low-life humans. Nothing like the threat Octavian presents.
And suddenly, I realize we’re alone. He’s alone. “Where’s Phoenix? And Lunia? Why are they not guarding you?”
Crossing his arms, he says, “I sent them to watch my brothers and sister.”
“You have to stop this, Xarion.” I eye him. “It’s our job to protect you, and you have to let us.” I sigh. “Gods, I thought you’d stop after your coronation. But you’re just as stubborn as when we were kids.”
A sly smile sneaks up the side of his face. “But we had fun then, right?”
“This is no longer a game.” A flash of the Leymak enters my mind. “Have you heard anything of the battle yet?”
He shakes his head, his dark hair falls against his eyes. “I was waiting to hear it from you.”
I nod and glance at the floor. The swirls in the stone remind me of the sand whipping us in the red land. “There were shifters,” I say. “Some kind of new Kythan race. Octavian has brought something dark and extremely powerful into existence—maybe created right from the Primeval Waters. ” I look into his deep green eyes, dark and angry, as if staring into a violent sea. “We need to speak with Fadil.”
He uncrosses his arms and clenches his hands into fists. “What were they like?”
“I don’t know. They looked like Kythan, but their power—it’s something far different, more powerful. And they can go into the aether.”
A shadow falls across Xarion’s face. “Star, be truthful with me. Did they harm you?”
“No,” I say. “But if they manage to penetrate our simple barrier and get inside Alexandria, I fear the damage they could do. I don’t think they were using their full power, only testing us.” I bite the inside of my cheek, and Xarion runs a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s time to be a leader, Xarion. Octavian won’t stop until he sees you dead. He can’t prove his false claims about your father, so he’ll kill you to rid himself of any threat against his power.”
“Star, don’t worry so.” He closes the distance between us. His tan hands rub my pale arms, and the warmth of his skin ignites tiny flames beneath my skin. “This is the greatest city. And the Kythan are the greatest military defense. My mother will defeat his legions in Greece, and we’ll destroy them here.” His eyes seek mine. “Octavian will not succeed.”
I hold his intense gaze, wishing to believe his words. But the scene in the desert replays in my mind. If Octavian has created some powerful Kythan, there is a chance he will succeed. I can’t allow that to happen.
Stepping out of his comforting touch, I turn and say, “Let’s get you to your council, master.” And I take the lead ahead of Xarion as his guardian.
I hear the groan he releases, but choose to ignore him. He needs to get used to me as his protector. I know that in time Xarion will be a great pharaoh. And I intend for him to live to see that day.
The palace is teeming with servants and nobles, all abuzz with the news of the Leymak. They rush the corridors as I lead Xarion toward the sorcerer’s chambers. A few times, I have to push people out of our way, and they quickly bow and apologize to the pharaoh.
“The battle has caused more than the usual uproar.” Xarion quickens his pace, moving beside me.
I cast him a sidelong glance. “We just barely escaped.”
Once we reach Fadil’s rooms, I knock and enter. Xarion strides quickly toward Habi and Fadil standing near a carved screen of Amun-Ra. Fadil’s royal blue robe grazes the floor, the embroidered sleeves hanging loosely at his weathered wrists as he drinks from a golden cup. He sets it down and picks an olive from a black plate on the cedar table. Habi’s eyes briefly meet mine before he eyes Xarion.
“Master Caesarion,” Habi says, bowing his head.
“Habi,” Xarion addresses the general. “Star tells me of some new powerful race of guardians. Can you confirm their species?”
Habi’s eyes dart to me. He grips and twists his armbands, and looks at Xarion. “Yes, master. They were Kythan—Egyptian descent. They served Octavian’s legion. Which leads me to believe someone in his council, if not Octavian himself, created them.”
Xarion nods and looks to Fadil. “How can this be, sorcerer?” Fadil drops an olive as his attention finally snaps to the pharaoh. He smooths back the white remains of his wispy hair. “There’s only one amulet powerful enough to create such a species. And that amulet is in our possession.” Xarion crosses his arms, straightens his back. “Regardless if someone were to get hold of the scepter, it’s dormant, a relic. That Egyptian power hasn’t been tapped into since the ancients.”
“Are you accusing me, young pharaoh?” Fadil says, his voice throaty and dry.
Habi goes to step between them, but I shoot him a glare. His face hardens into sharp, scowling lines. It’s bothersome that he feels the need to defend the sorcerer over his master, and even more alarming that he may be able to do so. The power we wield binds us to the pharaohs only. Not our creators. He may be my general, but I am first the pharaoh’s guardian.
“I’m making no accusation against anyone, Fadil,” Xarion says. He pushes his sheer cape over one bronzed shoulder, and advances toward the sorcerer. “But Egypt has many enemies all vying to either see her destroyed or rule her. I’ll ask the questions that will elicit the answers I seek, and you’ll do well to remember who your ruler is.”
Fadil bows low, his blue robe touches the floor. “My apologies, Pharaoh.” When he rises, his features are stoic. “The news of another race, one which can access the aether, has set my defenses on high. I’m an old man. I must be allotted some leniency.”