I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 2

***

We leave the temple within the hour, headed for a golden barge on the murky Rivel Nile, which carries us the seven hours from Thebus to the city of Al-Mansur. My siblings and I sleep most of the way, though I toss and turn from horrific visions of the stars’ desired future. When we dock, it is nearly two in the afternoon.

Father, Cearion, and Helios board golden chariots festooned with flowers and hauled by fine black stallions, before racing off toward the glistening, towering dunes. Mother, Ptolemy, and I take seats upon a royal litter lined with creamy satin. An awning of gold shields us from the sun, its gauzy curtains translucent as spider silk and billowing with the breeze as they tumble down the sides. Carried by four trusted guards, we follow at a more leisurely pace.

Some time passes before I ask, “Was a banquet planned before we left for Thebus?”

Mother smiles. “You should know your father wouldn’t dare ignore the chance to celebrate your transition into adulthood.”

Visions cross my mind, their details growing clearer the harder I focus on them. “The ceiling of the Grand Hall will be strung with banners of silver and blue. Marble statues of the high spirits of the moon and sea will be hosted at the sides of your dais. Guests from all across the world have already been invited and shall attend-”

“The celebrations will be held in the Grand Courtyard,” Mother says. “Just as Cearion’s was.”

I shake my head. “It will be in the Grand Hall.”

Mother watches me for so long, I fear I have upset her. “You were gifted a premonition of the future,” she says at last, a weariness in her eyes. “They say the last time the spirit of the moon blessed a Daughter of Kemet, a terrible feud between the spirits and the mortals ensued.”

“The mortals turned on the spirits, accusing them of abusing their powers. In return, the spirits accused the mortals of treason against the natural order,” I say.

“The daughter blessed by the moon spirit, sacrificed her life to appease both the mortals and the spirits. It broke the moon spirits heart, thus ever since, she fades away and hides for one night each month, to mourn the loss.”

“For a thousand years we’ve lived in peace with the spirits,” Ptolemy says with a yawn, crossing her arms over Mother’s lap, before lying her head down atop them. “There’s no need to sound so afraid. Maybe the moon spirit has finally decided to move on from her loss.”

“Spirits do not forget,” Mother says lowly, her eyes sweeping out toward the dunes, or perhaps the faint golden peaks of the pyramids far beyond them. “They do not forget those they blessed, those they loved, those who betrayed them, and those whom they despise.”

Blessed with wisdom, Mother has never been easily fooled. She sees situations for what they are, both the good and the bad. As such, she must have realized that my blessing is not a good omen. But to announce as such would set the entire kingdom against me. For if my blessing is determined to instead be a curse, I will be branded a danger to Kemet.

I will be tried for treason against the stars, and executed accordingly.

As fear swells in my heart, I catch sight of the faint strings of fate. Squeezing my hands, I feel the marionette bars. I am in control of my fate, I remind myself. I am the one who will decide what comes next.

“Mother, I…I saw the future,” I say, lifting my head. “I saw the banquet and-”

“No.” She lifts her hand, her command firm. “Only those blessed with such knowledge are meant to have it. I will hear nothing of what you were shown, Selene.”

My heart sinks. “But, Mother-”

“Your gift, be it blessing or burden, is to know the future you foresaw. It shall come to pass, and when it does, I too will know it. Until then, you must carry the weight of that knowledge on your own.”

“But I am trying to prevent such a future!”

Mother’s eyes fly wide, her face paling. Body rigid, Ptolemy dares a wary glance toward me. I stay still, force a calm disposition. I know why they have reacted this way. What I have just said is a slight against fate—against the will of the great spirits. It is a grave offense, as well as treason.

“Stop!” Mother commands, and the litter pauses.

Setting us upon the sands, the four guards step back and kneel. Bared arms and legs each a deep shade of brown, they bow their white-capped heads and await their next orders with a trained silence. Mother stands, raises her hand, and points toward the dunes to the west.

“Walk, all four of you. Continue west until you see a pyramid half crumbled from age. Find a lily there, one for each of you, and then return to the palace. I will await your gifts.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the men reply, turning as one before they stand and begin their journey.

When the men have become specks in the haze, Mother turns on me, her fierce glare paralyzing. “You, a Daughter of Kemet, dare speak such evil things. Have you no shame—no gratitude for the blessings that you have received?”

I fumble for words, unsure what to say or even how. Mother’s presence is as massive and encompassing as the sun itself! And yet…I feel the faintest slivers of power inside. The power of an equal might.

The power of the moon.

“I was blessed with many gifts, Mother,” I say, forcing my chin to lift, my eyes to hold hers. “I was blessed with the chance to change the future I saw.”

“The stars have written our fate,” Ptolemy whispers, pushing herself up to sit.

“And I now possess the ability to write something new.”

Ptolemy shakes her head, and Mother heaves a sigh.

“I will hear no more of this, Selene,” she says. “If what you say is true, then change the future by your own means. But none else share in your gift, and as such, none else will hear of what you have seen.”

“How can I change the future if I cannot tell everyone what is to come?” I gasp.

Mother smiles. “Consider such a matter whilst we walk. We’ve a long trek between us and the palace.”

“We’re to walk all that way?” Ptolemy cries, jumping to her feet. “But, Mother!”

I stand, ignoring her whining just as Mother does. After two steps a thought occurs to me, and I pause to look back toward our distant guards. “There is nothing but desert in that direction, Mother.”

“They heard too much,” she replies, ripping two curtains down. With one, she shifts around me to form a layered cloak. She does the same for herself, with the other. “If their fate is to reach the pyramid at the kingdoms edge, and return, then they will. If it is not, then they will not.”

I clench my hands at my sides as we begin to walk, sensing the warning in Mother’s words. If I say too much, others might hear. If they hear, then they will be silenced. As Pharaoh, Mother must protect and cherish her kingdom.

This time, she has chosen to protect and cherish me, more. Next time, she may not be able to make the same decision.

The sun is low in the west when we finally arrive at the high stone walls and iron gates of Alexandria. Guards scramble to meet us, ordering that a litter be brought from the palace as soon as possible. Mother assures them we will be fine to walk, until chariots are brought forth with the insistence that we ride, at the very least.

Mother relents, smiling when we reach the palace and find Father waiting just inside the gates. Arms crossed, a deep frown belays the relief in his molten eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, as Mother sweeps past him.

“A bit of trouble with the litter,” she replies. “You don’t plan to attend the banquet dressed like that, do you? Come. Let us dress and get ready.”

Father goes, waving for Ptolemy to scamper along behind. Left to myself, I wander alongside the high, gray-stone pillars of the walls. Following a worn dirt path to the lush grass of the palace gardens, I smile at a clear pool to my right. Wide, round lily pads drift lazily, and on their backs, little green frogs croak before hopping into the shadowy water when I look at them.

For a moment, I wish I could do the same—that I could hop away into the depths and hide from the things that scare me.

Taking in a breath, I close my eyes, and summon visions of the future to mind. Behind my lids a terrible scene plays out, assuring me that tonight will in fact be the night of our invasion, the fall of this palace, and the end of my parents-

“Are you lost as well?”

I jump, startled by the soft, male voice. Tense, I lift my chin, desperate to achieve some semblance of a royal air. “Lost?” I ask. “Have you wandered into the royal garden by mistake, Sir? You should know now, that not many are permitted to freely roam through this place.”

I hear the man move a step closer, till he is just behind me.

“I was admiring the stars and took a wrong turn. They just shine so brightly here. Forgive me if I have broken the rules along the way.”

The slight roll of his accent strikes me, then. “Are you foreign?”

“One could say that I am.”

He does not sound like a cocky lord or a frightened servant boy. Curious, I turn around and…

And all the world seems to pause.

Dressed in a simple tunic of black, a man watches me with night blue eyes to match the high tail of his flowing hair. A blood red scarf crosses his neck, trailing out behind him like scarlet wings, and a narrow rope flows from beneath it, dangling a scarab pendant just below his heart. At his wrists are cuffs of gold inscribed with indecipherable hieroglyphs.

Tears swell in my eyes, for the man looks just as I saw him in the visions of our future. My comforting companion. My gentle husband. My Juba.

“Are you alright?” he asks, lifting a calloused, tan hand to my cheek, swiping away a line of tears.

Overcome with emotion, I sniffle and gasp like a madwoman, my heart aching as if it has been pierced. The last I saw him, Juba was taking the hand of another woman.

“Oh, Juba,” I breathe, settling my palm against his, leaning my cheek into his own. No vision could compare to the warmth I feel now. The warmth, the joy, and…and the despair.

Because he is looking at me as if I am some monstrous beast—a cyclopes or a gorgon, perhaps. He is looking at me as if I’m a total stranger, and my heart breaks with the reminder that I am just a stranger. A stranger who, in one night, lived the rest of her life with the man he has yet to become.

And worse still, I love him—mere visions or no, I am still in love with him! But Juba…he doesn’t even know my name.

“How do you…?” Juba asks, and I force a smile.

“F-...forgive me. I must seem a lunatic.” Stepping back, reluctantly I pull my hand from his. “My name is Selene. It is nice to meet you, Juba. So very nice to meet you at last.”

From the vision of our life together, I recognize Juba’s stiffening posture and calculating gaze. He is wary of me, cautious in case I might pose a threat. He does not trust me—has every right not to trust me.

It breaks my heart all the more.

“Were you given my name?” Juba asks after a minute. “Were you sent here to find me?”

I shake my head. “I was blessed by the spirit of the moon last night. She showed me many things, including you.”

He pauses, then his eyes narrow further, anger sparking in his dark eyes. “You are Principessa Selene?”

For a breath, I am taken aback at the venom in Juba’s words. But a vision flicks through my mind, reminding me of all that Juba has suffered under Gustavian’s command. Juba has every right to hate royalty. Myself included.

I know this, understand it, yet I cannot help the tears that flood my eyes anew. To be hated by someone you love, is just so painful.

“Forgive me,” I beg, looking away. “I…I’m just a bit emotional tonight, it seems. I’ve been through a lot. I…”

I want you to know me, as I know you. I want you to take me into your arms as I saw in my visions. I want you to whisper that we shall be alright, no matter what troubles may befall us. I-

“I’ve never known a royal to beg forgiveness,” Juba says, offering me his hand.

Hesitantly, I take it, surprised when a peak up reveals a small smile on his lips.

“You claim the spirits showed me to you. I can’t imagine their reason, but I doubt it was to keep you from your own banquet.”

“No,” I agree, squeezing his hand. “It was for so much more. So horribly much more.”

His smile falls. “Horrible? Am I to do something wrong?”

Mother’s warning crashes down on me, heavy as the mighty brick stones of the pyramids. Should I tell him? Can I trust Juba—this version of Juba? He is not yet, and may never become, all he was in my visions. Still, he has been so kind in the few minutes I have known him. And I…

I want to trust him. If we can have nothing else of the future we were meant to live, then I at least want to trust this man before me, whom my heart aches with longing for.

“I was given a vision of a terrible future,” I say. “Tonight, Romasian warriors will sweep in from the shore, assault my kingdom, burn down my capital, and kill my parents.”

Juba’s eyes go wide. “Kemet is a sworn ally of the empire. There’s no reason for such a betrayal to occur!”

“I have seen it, Juba, just as I have seen you. Such an event will come to pass, and I’ve no idea what to do about it.”

“I…I am a direct servant of Emperor Gustavian, sent here on his behalf to congratulate you and your brother on the occasion of your having reached adulthood. If you truly know me, you should know the risk you take in admitting such a grave accusation in my presence.”

“I know that you despise Gustavian for all he’s stolen from you,” I say. “I know that in your heart, you bear no loyalty to a man whom you have secretly deemed the snake.”

Juba sucks in a breath, and I recall the vision where he told me one spring day, of how his father was killed when Roma conquered his kingdom. Taken as a spoil of war, Juba was made a slave at the fragile age of seven. He served loyally, ever bitter but nevertheless desperate to survive.

“You will get us both killed,” Juba breathes, just as a cannon fires from the other side of the palace.

The banquet is beginning, and I am not even close to prepared.

I must go. We both must go.

“Roma will attack tonight,” I say, dreading the sinking understanding that I truly cannot prevent it. I was warned too late. I have run out of time. “Be ready, Juba, and please do all you can to save yourself.”

“At the threshold of the destruction of all you love, you choose to worry about a stranger?” he asks.

“You are no stranger to me, so of course I will worry for you.”

***