I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 2

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“You should get some sleep, Leanie. I promise, I can wait to tease you more until after you’ve rested up.”

Tucked into Cearion’s side, his right arm draped across my shoulders while his left arm keeps Helios from slumping over the side of the barge, I set my cheek against his bare chest and listen for the strong, steady beat of my brother’s heart.

“We’ve haven’t sailed all that long. I’ll sleep when we’re closer to Al-Mansur,” I murmur, my voice thick with exhaustion.

Though in truth, I don’t plan to sleep at all. How can I when the true blessing of being with my family again is still so…fragile? I feel that if I close my eyes for too long, I’ll open them to find myself back in that broken hut on the unnamed island.

I don’t mind if this is all a sweet, beautiful dream, but should I wake from it…well, I don’t think I could survive the disappointment, let alone the heartbreak.

“Just what did the spirit say to rattle you so much?” Ceari asks, shifting his arm to set his palm against the back of my now knee-length silver hair. Stroking his thumb in circles, Ceari doesn’t budge when I grumble for him to stop, for he knows this is a surefire trick to lull me to sleep.

“She said so much to me,” I admit around a yawn. “And yet, I fear I didn’t truly understand any of it. How am I to—”

“Enough,” Father interrupts from the other side of the canopied barge.

Fine linen curtains rustle with the Nile breeze, brushing over us and allowing bits of the hot, desert sun to chase away the shade. Seated on a cushioned bench beside Mother and a sprawled, lightly snoring Ptolemy, Father’s bared chest heaves with a yawn before he fixes me with a tired frown.

“All that the spirits tell us during our blessings, we are meant to keep to ourselves. You must honor the confidence that Isis has in you as her Chosen.”

I open my mouth to argue, to insist that everything we spoke of has to be told not just to my parents, but to their armies and…and maybe to every ruler of the known world. Gustavian will not just attack Kemet and be satisfied. His generals will slowly wear down the borderlands of Jambudvīpa before toppling the maharaja and taking his empire for the glory of Roma.

Then they will attack the far north, east, and everything in between. Last I’d heard before I was forced onto that sick-boat headed for the island, Roma had conquered three-quarters of the world, and was poised to take the rest within the coming spring.

If I don’t stop Gustavian from taking Kemet, there may be no hope of stopping him from conquering the world all over again.

“I understand your concern, Father,” I try. “But—”

“Enough already,” Ceari groans. “You got a special blessing and made the family proud! Now get some sleep, Leanie. Everything else can wait until this cursed boat ride is over.”

“Agreed,” Father mutters, sparing Mother’s sleeping form a once-over before pressing her head to his shoulder and closing his eyes.

I want to argue, to insist that there’s no time. But…they’ve all been up for hours. The ceremony didn’t end when the incense fog faded. Helios and I had to recite prayers and incantations; pledge our eternal loyalty to the well-being of Kemet and our bloodline. It was two hours after dawn when we all made our way from the great stone temple in Thebus to the gold-plated royal barge awaiting us at the Niles edge.

And as of now, we’ve only traveled three of the seven hours between Thebus and our palace in Alexandria.

It’s not as though we could do anything from where we are now, I reason. And we’ll all think more clearly after we’ve slept. So…I’ll wait. I’ll wait until we dock, then tell them everything. It’s an incredible story, but maybe it’ll trigger their memories. I can’t truly be the only one who remembers our first lives…can I?

Another yawn slips from my lips, and my heavy lids fall shut. It’s been so long since I last slept peacefully. So long since I last basked in the comfort of Ceari’s protection.

I’d always felt safest at my big brother’s side, trusting that his strength and courage were incomparable. In my first life, I’d believed until his bitter end that Cearion could challenge the world and come out on top!

If only his tutor, that cursed traitor, had fought fair, then maybe…maybe Cearion would have proven me right.

Hatred and rage stalk me into a fitful sleep, where memories from my first life hound me without end. Voices I don’t recognize mutter and grumble, cursing me whilst others question my sanity. They all agree that I’ve doomed myself, as the stars will not take lightly to the idea of a human girl challenging their desires.

I open my eyes with a curse on my tongue, my body stiff and cool thanks to the fading sunlight of a perfect, wintry evening. Rubbing at my eyes, I peek up to find Ceari’s wide smile beneath raised brows and a curtain of sandy-brown bangs. Beside him, Helios stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

 “That was not language befitting a Sat-Nesut of Kemet,” Mother chides from a few feet away, her floor-length, golden locks swaying around her as she flashes a frown from over her narrow shoulder.

“Forgive me,” I say, though I don’t truly feel bad. If this were my first life, I would be humiliated. But as a slave, I learned that etiquette is meaningless to the suffering, and words are some of the only things a cruel master cannot steal from you.

So long as you keep your tongue, at least.

“We’ve just a few hours until your party,” Ceari says, breaking the tension as he hauls me up to stand with him. “Wait until you’ve had enough wine to forget your own name, Leanie. Then you can curse all you’d like.”

“Do not encourage her!” Mother calls, having vanished beyond the curtains.

“Where did you even learn a word like that?” Heli asks, fumbling when our brother wraps an arm around his neck and begins dragging him toward the front of the barge.

“Ask her later—we’ve got places to be!”

“Are we really in Al-Mansur already?” I whisper, jolted by the realization that I am the only one left in sight. Cursing again, beneath my breath this time, I tear out after my brothers only to watch as Ceari shoves Heli onto a waiting golden chariot strapped behind a fine black steed.

“If you beat me, I’ll give you a new sword to celebrate your blessing,” Ceari snickers, striding forward to smack the horse on its rear.

Heli barely has hold of the reins before it takes off at a gallop, following in the dusty trail left by Father, who is already a speck atop the distant dunes.

“Wait!” I cry.

“Don’t worry, Leanie!” Ceari calls back, stepping onto his chariot and jerking the reins from the young attendant at his left. “I’ll catch up and pass him in a flash—just you watch!”

“But that’s not—”

“I’ll see you at the party!”

And with that he cracks the reins and is gone.

To the right, Mother and Ptolemy have taken their seats in a golden litter, canopied and draped much like the barge. I spare the men of my life one last, hopeless glance, and drag myself onto the docks, then into the litter, where I flop down beside Ptolemy on a pile of silken pillows.

It’s fine, I tell myself. I’ll just explain everything to Mother and she’ll have a plan by the time we reunite with Father. If anything, the hour’s walk between here and the city center will give us more than enough time to cement details and plot a solid defense of the eastern shore…or was it the western one?

 The details blur in my mind. I didn’t actually see where the attack began, just heard word from other captured Kemites on the long ship ride to Vaticana, that the Romasians swarmed in out of nowhere from the Medi Sea under cover of the moonless night.

“Are you alright, Selene?” Mother asks, at the same time four strong guards lift the litter onto their shoulders and begin the march toward home. “You’ve been acting strangely since the blessing.”

“She’s always been strange,” Ptolemy huffs, brushing her long, white veil back to bare tanned shoulders, reed-thin arms, and golden cuffs encrusted with precious gems at her wrists, which glitter like the hundreds of beads sewn into her gown. “You’re only just noticing it, Mother?”

Mother flashes her a pointed look, then returns her attention to me. My lips part only to hesitate. How do I explain everything I know—everything I remember living through? How do I tell Mother that her sacrifice was for nothing, and that all her children suffered until our dying breaths?

“I…I saw things during the blessing,” I begin, wringing my hands in my lap. “Terrible things.”

Mother stares at me, her lips pressed into a line. “It’s well known that the last Sat-Nesut of Kemet to be blessed by Isis met an unspeakable fate.”

“Are you saying that Selene’s been cursed?” Ptolemy asks, studying the neat cut of her manicured nails.

“Isis is the guardian spirit of Kemet. Her blessing could never be a curse.”

“Not unless I fail to do all that I must,” I say, flinching when Mother shakes her head.

“I will hear nothing more of what you endured, Selene. You know what tradition dictates—”

“But, Mother—”

“You will fulfil the spirits’ commands however you must, Selene, for it is an honor to be singled out,” she commands. “And while you may carry a great burden for now, you will learn to bear it with all the grace and dignity befitting a Sat-Nesut of Kemet. Have I made myself clear?”

“This isn’t a burden I can carry on my own,” I insist. “The future—”

“Will be what it will be,” Mother sighs. “We cannot change what the stars have written.”

“But I can!”

Mother’s eyes fly wide, her face paling. Body rigid, Ptolemy dares a wary glance toward me. It takes all but seconds to realize why they look so frazzled.

My declaration is tantamount to treason.

“Halt!” Mother snaps, and the litter pauses.

Setting us upon the sands, the four guards step back and kneel. Bared arms and legs a deep shade of brown, the men bow their white-capped heads and await their next orders in perfect silence.

Mother stands, raises her hand, and points toward the golden dunes to the west. “Walk, all 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, standing and turning as one before they begin their journey.

When the men have gone Mother turns on me with a fierce glare. “You dare to challenge the power of the spirits—have you no shame? No gratitude for the blessing you’ve received?”

Once, before all I’d endured, I would have cowered and wept at the sight of Mother’s fury. Now, I rise with head high. I love and respect this woman more than any other in all the world, but I have faced far scarier things than her. I will not—cannot back down now.

“I was blessed with a second chance,” I say, forcing my chin to lift, my stare to hold hers. “The future as it stands must not come to be. All will be lost if we don’t do something while we still can.”

“Only the spirits and the stars can control fate,” Ptolemy scoffs, pushing herself up to her feet. “No blessing could allow you to—”

“But it did. I swear that it did.”

For a tense moment no one speaks. Ptolemy looks between Mother and I with curious eyes, and Mother studies the ground with clenched fists. I know she values tradition and law, and is faithful to the spirits without question. But she is also wise and just. She will understand the urgency of all I have to share. She will believe me! She—

“If what you say is true, then change the future by your own means.” Mother sighs. “But you will speak no more of it. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

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

Mother offers a strained smile. “Consider your options whilst we walk, as we’ve a long trek between here and the palace.”

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

She dismisses Ptolemy’s whining with a flip of her wrist, then sets off. Heaving a dramatic sigh, my sister follows.

As for me, I remain rooted to the spot.

Why won’t she listen to me? Why doesn’t she understand the severity of the situation we’re in? Roma is already on their way across the Medi—their attack will begin just hours from now—if that!

“Mother—”

“Do not make me lock you in your bed chamber for the night,” she calls back. “I want more than anything for you to enjoy this evening’s celebrations, but if you insist on pushing me Selene, I will do what I know is best for you.”

“Best for me…” I shake my head, frustrated tears burning in my eyes. I want to push the matter, to scream until I’ve no breath left in my lungs.

But Mother is stubborn, and if she’s decided against me, then Father surely will too.

I spare a look in the direction the litter-bearers walked, knowing full-well that they will never find the pyramid Mother spoke of. She sent them away, possibly to their deaths, for the sake of protecting me.

She thinks she is protecting me. But in truth, she is condemning us all.

The sun has vanished when we finally arrive at the high stone walls and iron gates of the inner city. 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.

Several minutes later we reach the palace, where Father waits just outside its gates. Arms crossed, a deep frown belies the relief in his gray eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, whilst 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 change and get ready.”

“Mother, please,” I beg, noting how she flinches but doesn’t stop. “Roma will—”

“Not another word, or I’ll have you escorted to the dungeons.”

Father looks between us, then follows after Mother with a gesture for Ptolemy to scamper along behind them. Left to myself, the weight of my failure creeps up slowly. My throat constricts, my hands tremble. The guards cast curious glances my way, and I run.

Down a stone path to the left of the palace’s main entrance, I run along the high, limestone walls engraved with hieroglyphs and the figures of forgotten pharaohs. I run blinded by tears until my foot catches, and I fall face-first into the sand.

“Why?” I demand of the Earth; the sky; the spirits. “I came back to change things, so why won’t they listen to me? What more am I supposed to do here?”

Despite my pleas and demands, I’m offered not even a whisper of reply. And as the hope in my heart fractures, I curl into a ball and succumb to the overwhelming ache of true despair.  

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