I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 5

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“Antonius!" Mother gasps, and quickly raises her dagger in a defensive stance as Father drags a familiar figure into the room behind him.

One that, to my horror, is not my big brother.

“Juba!” I cry, slamming to my knees just in time to catch him as Father tosses him onto the floor.

“Selene,” he groans, sitting back to reveal a face littered with bruises and a busted lower lip. “We meet again.”

“Back away from him, Selene,” Father commands, the low growl of his voice sending shivers down my spine. “That lowly dog is not worthy of your kindness.”

“As I’ve already told you, Majesty, I had no prior knowledge of this assault,” Juba says, sparing Father a glare. “I came to warn you of the blackout at the rear of the place. Not to—”

Father jerks a sword from the sheath at his hip, and angles its tip beneath Juba’s chin. Gray eyes narrowed with rage, Father demands from between clenched teeth, “And why exactly should I believe even one word you—”

“Because I do,” I say, knocking the blade aside with the back of my hand. “Juba is not loyal to Gustavian. He despises him!”

“Selene,” Helios snaps, grabbing for my arm whilst Father stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Let go of me,” I snap back, and bat my brother away just as I had the sword. “I mean it—I’d wager my life on it! Juba is no threat to Kemet or our family.”

“How can you know that?” Juba asks, drawing my eyes back toward him. “A brief conversation in a garden is not nearly enough reason to place your faith in a stranger.”

“Isn’t it obvious by now, that you are no stranger to me?”

Before he can reply Mother drops to her knees at Juba’s back, her dagger pressed to his throat. My heart sinks, my breath caught in my lungs.

She can’t…she can’t possibly—

“One good reason,” Mother demands, holding my eyes. “Give me one good reason not to kill this mutt and be rid of him, Selene, or I will gift him the honor of being the first Romasian to fall by my hand.”

“I…I…” Trembling, harder than ever before, I shake my head furiously. “I need him—was fated to need him in order to survive this mess. And without him by my side, I stand no chance of changing the future. Without Juba, I am hopeless!”

“What in the world are you…” Juba whispers, peering back when Mother lowers her dagger an inch.

“How exactly was he meant to help you?” she asks.

I hesitate only a moment, scared of how Father will react, then say, “He was meant to protect Helios, Ptolemy, and me from Octavia.”

Father sucks in a sharp breath, Helios whispers the monstress’ name, and Mother’s eyes narrow. “Why would she have become a threat to you?”

“Because Gustavian gifted us to her, following our enslavement in Roma.”

“What is she talking about?” Father barks, seconds before the dagger tumbles from Mother’s hand. “Cleo?”

Mother’s lips part, close, and part again. Several seconds drag by before she finally says, “Our lives should have been good enough to ensure your safe release into exile. The only one at risk should have been Cearion, and he—”

“Never made it to the maharaja of Jambudvīpa. He was murdered by Taurus’ own hand in—”

“How do you know that Cearion is with Taurus?” Father interrupts. “How do you know that I ordered them to flee Kemet for Jambudvīpa?”

 “Who is meant to survive?” Mother asks, the horror in her gaze proof enough that she’s already put together what fate had in store for us. “Surely at least one of you…”

“Ptolemy fell ill, poisoned by Octavia. Helios…” I can’t bring myself to say it, and blink back fresh tears as they gather at the corners of my eyes. “I tried to survive, to endure, but in the end I too eventually succumbed.”

“And that was when Isis intervened,” Mother concludes, forcing herself back to her feet. “I see.”

Slowly, she steps around Juba and I, and raises her head to meet Father’s eyes. “I’ve doomed us.”

“No,” he tries, reaching for her, but Mother stops him with a raised, trembling hand.

“I thought I was chosen by Rea to shine as she does—to be a beacon of peace between Kemet and Roma. I thought that allowing their merchants to trade in Alexandria would make friends of our people. I thought Gustavian was ready to mend the 1,000-year rift between our two nations. Only now can I see how foolish I’ve been, played like a puppet on strings by both a spirit and that wretched emperor she favors.”

“You’re not to blame,” Father insists. “Gustavian wasn’t like his predecessors. You had every reason to hope—”

“And that hope will be the death of us,” Mother says, her tone hardening. “But not our children. Not this time.”

“Mother?” Helios asks.

“Gustavian is a monster, ruthless and fiercely intelligent,” Juba mutters, catching my gaze. “Even if your family runs, he’ll declare you enemies of the empire and threats to global stability. His slander will close many doors, and his true dogs will hunt you unto the ends of the Earth.”  

“Which is why you must be swift,” Mother says, without turning back. “There’s a narrow passage that rings the one we took to reach this chamber. It leads far underground, to a tunnel that ends beneath a grate at the north-western port. Go there, find your way onto a ship, and flee Kemet.”

“You expect us to abandon our homeland?” Helios cries. “To send off your heir makes sense, but to ask the rest of us to just up and run away is—”

“The only chance you’ve got,” Father says. “This attack, this betrayal, is beyond our control. There was never a chance of victory for Kemet, Helios. Mourn that fact once you’re safe and far from here.”

“But Selene foresaw everything that’s happening,” Ptolemy insists. “She could have—”

“She did what she could. Your mother and I are to blame for the rest.” Father’s eyes fall shut, he breathes in deeply, and his lips curl up into the faintest smile when he opens them again. “As rulers, as your parents, we must take responsibility for this battle’s loss. But the war continues so long as you three and your brother are still alive. So, go. Find Cearion, and if Taurus truly is a traitor, then defeat him and show Roma that you will not go quietly into Gustavian’s grasp.”

“Our friendship with Jambudvīpa is ancient, far older than any other alliance we’ve forged,” Mother adds. “Seek the aid of Maharaja Ashoka. Even if he will not offer soldiers for your cause, he may offer a wisdom that has frequently exceeded my own.”

A sudden gust rattles the windows as Mother peers back, with a small smile on her lips to match Father’s. “Whatever happens, do not give up. Kemet will fall, and you will struggle, maybe even suffer, but you have advantages that Gustavian does not. Use them to challenge fate, and perhaps the stars will reconsider their desires for you.”

“You’re all mad,” Juba mutters, not bothering to ask for my hand as he pulls me to my feet along with him. “But if you truly intend to run, you’ll need to go before they’ve secured the shoreline. Once Roma’s cut Kemet off from the sea, our only hope will be a flight into the southern wilderness.”

“If that happens, then we’ll never reach Cearion in time,” I say.

“Are you really going along with this?” Helios demands, eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re really okay with the idea of fleeing whilst our parents stay behind to be captured by the Romasians?”

“I…”

“Don’t worry about us,” Father says, sheathing his sword before stepping past me to offer it to my twin. “Your mother and I know what we’re doing. We’ll be just fine.”

Helios reels back from the sword like it might burn him. “But our duty is to serve and defend you. Not to—”

“Our duty is to protect the future of this kingdom,” Mother says, and wraps her arms around herself. “If Cearion cannot save himself, then we have no choice but to entrust the task to the three of you.” Her smile falters a moment as she looks at Juba. “The four of you, it seems.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve no real understanding of what’s happening here,” Juba says. “But it’s clear to me now that I wasn’t meant to survive the night. As such, I’ve no reason not to offer your children my aid.”

“You’ve no reason to be loyal to them, either,” Father grumbles, raising his chin to glare Juba down. “You only breathe right now thanks to my daughter’s advocacy. Do not soon forget it.”

Juba tsks. “I assure you, I won’t.” Dropping my hand, he nods toward the windows as a wave of screams rise from far below. “I know a bit about sailing, and how to navigate the map of the stars. So long as we can make it past the harbor unseen, I will be able to sail us into the safety of the open Medi.”

“It seems your plan is set,” Mother says, shaking her head when Helios opens his mouth. “As pharaoh of Kemet, I order you four to move swiftly, without fear and without looking back. Until you are upon the waves, until you are a safe distance from the shore, do not dare look back at this place.”

A stunned silence fills the room, heavy with a lifetime of reinforcement that the order of a pharaoh is not to be ignored.

Ptolemy is the first to accept it with a curt reply of, “As you wish.”

Hands trembling, Helios tears the seams of his white tunic before he rips the golden collar from around his throat, chucks it to the floor, and forces out a strained, “As you wish.”

Father turns to me. “Do all that you can to change the future, Selene. Painful as it might be, this beginning of your journey was inevitable, and not even Isis’ blessing could prevent it. As such, I hereby absolve you of any blame.”

“I will do my best,” I swear, brushing away my tears with the backs of my hands. “I promise.”

Father smiles, forces his sword into Helios’ hand, and steps back. I follow his nod toward the windows, and make myself walk to stand before them. The glass is heavy when I swing it outward, and as I peek out at the narrow ledge, my heart aches with the urge to demand that Mother and Father come with us—that they not play the willing sacrifices all over again.

“Go first, Helios,” Mother commands. “Take the lead and guide your sisters. Should you come under attack, protect them.”

“Protect them whilst knowing that I can’t even protect my own parents,” Helios mutters, storming forward to fling himself out onto the ledge. Landing on one bared knee, he twists to shove a hand back inside. “Let’s go, Ptolemy.”

She pauses just long enough to tear the hem of her skirt as I had mine, and rushing to him, clambers up and out with ease. For a breath, Helios looks back at our parents, then he is gone, following our sister into a slim, dark opening in the right side of the tower wall.

“Go, Selene,” Mother says.

Juba moves first, hauling himself onto the ledge before twisting to heft me up onto my knees. Trusting that he will keep me stable, I look at my parents one last time.

Having stepped into each other’s arms, they watch us with faces unmarred by fear or despair. They look serene, acceptant.

As though all their troubles shall be over once I have gone.

“Go,” Mother says, and offers one last beautiful smile.

Juba helps me to my feet, and we are off.

Walking fast, we round the pitch-black stairwell in descending circles until a narrow passage emerges. Juba and I stop at the same time, as the dim glow of hundreds of hieroglyphs illuminates the walls, floor, and low ceiling with an odd silvery light.

“Hurry,” Helios calls from a few feet ahead.

Juba squeezes my hand, reminding me that he still holds it, and we move onward. I keep close, grateful that I cannot make out the sticky strands we brush through, or spot the creatures that hiss as we walk by.

Following a winding, dusty path, we continue on until a wavering, yellow light floods in from an iron grate in the ceiling, and the sounds of waves greet us. Without pause, Helios shoves at the iron until it lifts up and to the side. Grunting, he hauls himself out, pauses a moment, then he sticks his arms down with a call for Ptolemy to grab his hands.

She jumps twice, misses, and Juba walks from my side to lift her from the waist. With an indignant huff, Ptolemy latches onto Helios’ arms and vanishes. Juba lifts me next, and I do the same, choking on the acrid scent of smoke as soon as I’m set onto the wave-washed shore.

“There’s a boat,” Ptolemy says, drawing Helios’ and my eyes to the short, wooden docks on our left, where a string of simple brown rowboats bob with long oars lain horizontally across their tops.

“Let’s go,” Juba says, hopping to his feet and running.

We follow, Ptolemy and I quick to take our seats in the nearest boat, while the boys untie and push it into the water. Walking until they are knee deep, they jump in one after the other.

I pass out oars, wishing that there were more than two, and scan the distant edges of the city for any sign of Romasians having noticed this tiny commoners’ port.

Barking a rhythm of “One. Two. One. Two”, Helios sets the pace, growling curses as he and Juba fight to break the white-capped waves before bursting out into the open sea. We hunker low in the boat’s belly when massive war ships bob into view on our far left, and the great lighthouse rises like a stone giant between us.

Soaring into the dark sky, its ancient bricks reflect flickers of torchlight, and at its peak a large beam shoots outward: a guiding light into the perilous heart of the Medi.

Helios and Juba row for a while longer, before my brother calls for a halt and dares a look back toward the shore. I look too, instantly drawn to the tiny specks posed against—no, between the closed windows of Mother’s tower.

Their backs illuminated by flickers of torchlight, most likely belonging to the invaders, the figures hold still for just a moment longer.

And then they fall.

Not shoved. Not rushed. They simply fall off the side, like two leaves drifting from the branches of a high tree.

“No!” Helios wails, and when I look back, Ptolemy has thrown herself across his lap, her shoulders heaving with heart-wrenching sobs.

Juba closes his eyes, his head tipped down in a show of remorse.

And I…I force myself to take in Alexandria. The city that has fallen; her people whom I could not save; the piece of the future that I could not change.

Sucking my lip between my teeth to stop its quivering, I reach for Helios’ oar. Juba looks at me, shifting to sit at my side, and takes it from my hand.

“Rowing will be difficult,” he says. “Allow me.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, and that I don’t honestly have the strength to fight the waves. Shifting to sit between Juba’s legs, I watch my beloved kingdom slowly vanish as, with a heavy heart, I take up the row-man’s chant.  

“One. Two. One. Two.”

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