I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 7

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Whoever they are, whatever they are, the women holding me must be the fastest swimmers in all the world. They move seamlessly, gliding through the waves as though they had fins.

Careful to keep my head up, they speak to me with hypnotic voices, comforting me when minutes turn into hours, and the lukewarm water has left my fingers feeling concerningly pruned.

“Are you up to talking with us yet?” the woman on my left asks, as she has a few times before. “It really has been so long, Selene. Over a thousand years already.”

“She doesn’t remember, Ligeia,” the woman on my right chides, then says to me. “Thankfully you’ve no need to, as all else recall that you are the daughter of the moon and sea.”

“Pardon?” I ask, carefully turning to look at her.

The woman on the right is just as beautiful as her friend, with skin a touch darker, eyes a soft brown that reminds me of sand, and hair blue as an oasis pool.

“Have you forgotten your father?”

“And that he is our father, too?” Ligeia adds. “Surely you haven’t forgotten your beloved elder sisters. Oh, Selene, you’re breaking mine and Leucosia’s hearts.”

“She’s mortal now,” Leucosia notes. “A mortal mind can’t be expected to remember such details.”

“Then she must simply become immortal again.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. “Are you not mortal?”

When I look toward Leucosia, her smile widens to reveal two pairs of fangs. “What about us could ever have confused you? I suppose our faces do look human enough, but you’ll find that our appetites are quite different.”

“It’s a shame, you know?” Ligeia pouts. “Those boys who fell into the sea with you looked simply tantalizing! They would have made the most delicious snack.”

A sinking suspicion sends chills down my spine that have nothing to do with the temperature, nor the near-noon sunlight that is rapidly vanishing behind what looks to be storm clouds.

 If these two were going to harm me, they would have done so by now. But just because they spared me, doesn’t mean that Helios, Ptolemy, and Juba have fared the same. Slowly, I peer over my shoulder, searching for them. Why didn’t I think to look before now? Was it my saviors’ voices? Did they lull me into a stupor? And if they did, then does that mean that they’re—

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Ligeia asks, flipping forward to reveal not legs, but a fish tail of shimmering, golden scales tipped with a wide, split fin.

My heart skips a beat, my fears confirmed. “You’re sirens.”

Creatures of the deep whom I’ve only heard of in passing. The only things more legendary than their exceptional beauty are their voices, which can take hold of a man’s heart with just a single word!

For once a sailor hears the sirens’ song, they lose their senses and leap into the sea, where they become the lovely monsters’ supper.

“Helios!” I gasp, wriggling with what little strength I’ve regained. “Juba—Ptolemy! Where are they? What have you done with them?”

“Calm yourself,” Leucosia says, a slight shift in her voice soothing my fears in spite of my racing heart. “We were asked to rescue them, too. They’re just a few feet behind, carried along by yet more of our sisters.”

“You…you swear it?” I ask, trying and failing to fight the calm creeping from my mind to my heart. “They’re not hurt?”

“No harm could come to them out here, as our father cherishes you the most of his children. He’ll do whatever he can to protect all that’s dear to you, and you should not soon forget it.”

“I think you’re confusing me for Helios. He’s the one blessed by Serapis.”

“And you are Father’s beloved daughter,” Ligeia says. “Past, present, and future—you will always be—”

“Their cursed daughter,” Leucosia interrupts a bit softer. “Scorned by the stars for loving the humans of this world.”

“I think you’re confusing me for the first Sat-Nesut of Kemet to be blessed by Isis,” I say.

Both sirens hum, and when Ligeia heaves a sigh, Leucosia lifts her free hand to brush the hair from my eyes. “I suppose you’ve gone through enough for today, so we’ll let the matter rest. But please, do remember us as soon as you can. Alright?”

“I…I’ll try,” I say, floundering as Ligeia suddenly drops my arm to dip below the waves, then resurfaces a few feet in front of me.

Smiling wide, she nods over her shoulder. “As promised, we’ve made it to land in record timing. From here, you must continue on your own.”

“Is it an island?” I ask, looking past her at a long shore of black sand. High coconut palms rise toward the sky, beyond which a densely tree-covered mountain soars.

“A gentle one,” Leucosia says, pulling me past her sister. “But not one that will shelter you, should the spirit of storms feel pressured to attack at the command of the Sun. You must not linger here for long, Selene. Make way for the mainland as soon as possible.”

“We will try.”

With a nod, Leucosia sweeps out in front of me, her hands slipping from my arm to link our fingers. Pulling me forward just a meter farther, she pauses at the same time my bare foot brushes something slimy.

“Be selfish in this life,” Leucosia begs, pressing her forehead to mine. “Do not suffer the same fate as before, Selene. This time, we—all of us, want more than anything for you to live.”

I go to ask what she means, as I’ve no memory of meeting any sirens in my previous life, but Leucosia pulls away before a single word comes out.

Falling onto her back, she vanishes beneath the water and is gone.

Not a moment later splashing and gasps rise behind me. I look back, surprised to see Helios flailing beside Juba, who carries Ptolemy on his back.

“What is this?” my twin cries, falling under only to bob back up. “Selene—Selene, help!”

“You should be able to touch the ground, you know,” Juba groans, wading closer. “Who’d have thought a Sa-Nesut of Kemet could be such a bumbling fool?”

“What did you say?” Helios demands, jerking upright and heaving his knees high as he stomps after Juba. “Get back here and say that to my face, Mutt!”

“What were those things?” Ptolemy asks, when Juba stops at my side. “They were terrifying.”

“They were sirens,” Juba says, and helps her down. “They must have come to Selene at Isis’ command.”

“Or it could have been Serapis’,” Helios huffs. “I was blessed by him.”

Juba rolls his eyes. “Yours is a blessing which, after that pitiful display, I’m sure Serapis has come to deeply regret.”

Helios’ face goes bright red, his teeth clenched tight, and he mutters under his breath the whole way to the shore. I shake my head at him, delight at the feel of sand shifting beneath my feet, and shiver as the sea shallows from neck-deep to waist-deep.

If only it were earlier in the day, we could have dried out in the sun…

I stop stiff, jolted by a gasp, and whirl to find my sister’s hands pressed tight over her lips.

“Your hair,” Ptolemy says. “What’s happened to your hair?”

Two steps behind, Helios stills, his eyes widening as they take me in. I reach up, confused when my fingers do not find the long locks I expect, but short, raggedly cut strands that end just below my shoulders.

Shock courses through me, before memories steal my breath. In my previous life, I’d cut my hair to mourn Helios, and had kept it this very length until my dying day.

Having returned to the past, I’d hoped never to have short hair again. Yet now…

“It’s just hair,” Juba says, stepping up beside me. “It’ll regrow.”

Blinking back fresh tears, I nod. “I know.”

Juba frowns, but doesn’t say more. Knowing him, he must be waiting for me to explain myself. When a minute passes and I haven’t, unable to find the right words, Juba sets an awkward hand on my shoulder.

“Selene—”

“What have I said about touching her?” Helios snaps, and shoves Juba back. “You’ve no right to lay your hands on a Sat-Nesut of Kemet!”

“Helios,” I warn, but he only raises his chin.

“My sisters’ status might be in question for the time being, but they’re still of royal blood. You will ask permission to so much as stand beside them, let alone touch one of them, until further notice. Got it?”

“But of course,” Juba scoffs, his lips twitching into a snide grin. “Beg pardon, Your Royal Highness. Please, forgive this lowly slave for having dared to save your sister from drowning, as it seemed to me that she couldn’t swim, and you were not much better off.”

Ptolemy crosses her arms with a humph, her eyes narrowed.

“And forgive me doubly for being kind to Selene. I feared she needed someone to lean on, seeing as the two of you have done nothing but drag her down since we fled Kemet.” Juba sweeps a mocking bow. “Truly, you’ve my sincerest apology.”

“Why you…” Helios growls.

“Your apology can use some work, but at least it seems you actually do know your place,” Ptolemy huffs, flinching when I smack first her, then our brother.

“Enough—both of you. I understand that we’ve been through too much to process so soon, but that is no excuse to—”

“Talk to a servant in a way befitting his station?” Ptolemy demands. “Or no, didn’t he call himself a slave?”

“Stop, Ptolemy,” Helios grumbles, crossing his arms with downcast eyes. “Slavery is a Romasian cruelty, and I won’t tolerate you acknowledging it. Not even in regards to him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

Juba straightens, and Helios turns to me. “I won’t apologize for demanding that he respect your autonomy. I’ll demand no less of anyone else we meet, just like Cearion would. Just like our parents would.”

“You are not responsible for us now, Heli,” I try, but a shadow crosses his face, guilt darkening his eyes.

“I failed our parents—I failed our people. I can’t fail you. Not again.”

“You didn’t mean to flood the boat.”

“This isn’t just about the boat!” Helios takes in a deep breath, and casts a long look back at the sea. “I heard Serapis’ voice just before the sirens appeared. If I’d known how to use the gifts he’s blessed me with, then maybe I…”

“You’ve never used your powers before,” I say. “You can’t blame yourself for not knowing something that you’ve never had the chance to learn.”

“…fine.”

“Are you two done yet?” Ptolemy groans, passing us with arms wrapped tightly around herself. Brown hair hanging well past her knees, she shifts awkwardly as her gown clings to her slim body. “I’m freezing. We need to find clothes and shelter—and food and fire.”

“As if that will be so easy,” I say. “This doesn’t seem the kind of area where people live, least of all merchants with ready-made wares.”

“You’re not wrong,” Juba says, coming to my side once Helios has passed me by. “I can’t be certain, but depending on where we are this island may be deserted.”

I recall how terrified we’d been when, in our past life, we’d realized that our exile island was uninhabited. We were fortunate to have found a city of ruins and the remnants of overgrown gardens. But by the looks of our surroundings, this island will not be as hospitable.

“Selene?”

“Forgive me…and them,” I say, banishing the sad thoughts. “Ptolemy is a selfish child, even after all we’ve been through. Helios is protective, but not self-important. He wasn’t trying to slander you as our lesser.”

“Would he have been wrong to?” Juba asks. “The world knows you three as royalty, regardless of who’s governing your kingdom. But I am nothing.”

“You are my friend, and will be treated just as well as anyone shall treat me. I will make sure of it.”

Juba shakes his head but says no more, and we walk on in silence. As the sands give way to rocky ground, it’s not long before Ptolemy demands that Helios carry her, as she’d lost one sandal in the sea. I flinch as my own feet find every possible pointed rock, grateful for the arm that Juba offers to help me keep upright.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he asks, after I trip over a particularly large stone.

“I’m fine,” I lie, my cheeks warming. “Thank you, though.”

Juba chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar, Selene. Tell me, is that why I was meant to take responsibility for you? Because you were hopeless on your own?”

My cheeks burn. “You…may have said as much once or twice. But you always said you appreciated my honest nature. You told me it was too easy to trust me, especially in a place where few could even be allowed to trust themselves.”

“I see. You should know that I’ve yet to trust a single person in this life. Speaking honestly, I don’t intend to change that.”

Stumbling again, I heave a sigh. “Yes, yes. I know. I will have to earn your trust slowly, just as I did last time. But speaking honestly, you should know that I didn’t actually try in our first lives. One day you were mocking my every shortcoming, and the next…”

You were holding me whilst I cried.

You were asleep beside me, pressed close under our scrap of blanket in the middle of a frigid Vaticannan winter.

You were blushing as you took my hand and made me your bride.

Before I can speak, a new, female voice shrieks from up ahead. Juba and I share a look, note that my siblings have left us behind, and attempt to run.

“Was that Ptolemy?” I gasp, spotting her still aloft Helios’ back and now several meters away.

“No,” Juba says, pointing to a lone figure picking herself up from the ground only inches from my siblings.

Dressed in a long-sleeved tunic of brilliant pink slit on both sides and swaying to her knees, the woman’s legs are hidden beneath baggy golden pants—shalwar, I believe they are called. She wears a fashion unlike anything seen on the people of Kemet, but one that is very much the norm for Jambudvīpan emissaries.

Brushing a soft-brown hand over her onyx hair, the woman’s hazel eyes glare an arc across our group. “What is this?” she snips. “I was told that this part of the island should be empty.”

“We’re not from here,” Helios says, hefting Ptolemy a bit higher before he extends a hand to the stranger. “We’ve just washed up from…a shipwreck.”

The woman’s eyes narrow. “Oh? Assuming you’re telling the truth, may I ask how you’ve arrived here unscathed?”

“Luck,” Ptolemy mutters. “What else?”

With a hum the woman tilts her head, eyeing us slowly from one to the next. Juba and I have only just reached my siblings when the woman settles her frown on me.

“Who are you?” she asks. “You are not Jambudvīpan, and your story is a lie.”

“We’re telling the truth,” Helios tries, flinching back a step when she pulls a short, curved dagger from a hidden pocket at her hip.

“No, you are not.”

“Yes, we—”

“By the name of Maharaja Ashoka te Jambudvīpa, I demand that you justify your arrival in our sacred empire.”

“Or what?” Ptolemy scoffs, and the woman grins.

“You shall be felled here and now, by my hand.”

***