I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 8

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“Could you not sleep, again?”

I look back, heart in my throat. In the dim light cast by the few swinging oil lamps, Juba walks toward me. Swaying together, rocked by the gentle waves, he comes to my side at the rear of the ship, in a corner where none might see us.

“Sleep escapes me,” I say, looking away when he simply stares. “When I close my eyes, all I see is Alexandria burning and…and my parents falling to their end.”

Juba sets his hand on mine, which rests atop the narrow wooden railing separating us and the open air above the sea.

“I understand,” he says. “It was the same for me when my kingdom fell. No matter how I tried to sleep, all I saw was the destruction and misery. It was a long time before it all began to fade, and I could sleep well again.”

I bite my tongue, unsure how to respond.

After some time, Juba asks, “You don’t believe me?”

“In my visions, there came an evening when you told me about your nightmares. You said they had never ceased in plaguing you, and for that, the bitterness in your heart had never faded. As such, sleep continued to evade you.”

Juba looks away, his lips sunk into a frown. “Is there anything about me that you don’t already know?”

“There must be, but…as I’ve said, we were fated to be friends.” Glancing up, I note how the twinkle of the stars seems to fade when I look at them. It’s as if they are rejecting me…though I suppose I did reject them first. “We were fated to be the very best and closest of friends.”

“Why would Gustavian have allowed it?” Juba asks. “He thrives off of my suffering. Why offer a companion unless he’d hoped to use you against me?”

“In the end, that may well have been his goal. One which I believe he was meant to achieve.”

“You seem unsure.”

“I am,” I say, pulling my hand from his. “In the future that was supposed to be, we were separated, and I died all alone. My last thoughts were of many things, regrets and the likes. But you were amongst them as well. You were always in my thoughts, Juba, even as I took my last breaths.”

“I am not special enough to deserve such a kindness,” he scoffs, eyes cast upon the waves when I look at him. “And even if I might have been, to the you whom you were supposed to be, that future hasn’t come to pass. The me I am currently, is nothing to you.”

“How could you be nothing to me? I know the man you’ll become-”

“But I only know who I am now—and who you are now. I don’t know a future us that may or may not come to be.”

“I…” I pause a moment, my heart aching. “It bothers you a lot, doesn’t it? That I know so much without your permission and trust.”

Juba spares me a glance. “Would it sit right with you, if you were in my position?”

“I…think it might. Regardless, the future is already changing. Right now, I was supposed to be chained in the belly of a Romasian ship, headed for a life of slavery at the beck and call of Octavia.”

“Yet here we are, headed for the mainland of Indrira.” Juba shakes his head. “Gustavian will expect either my corpse or some form of word from me, soon. If he’d meant to take you as a spoil of war, he’ll surely be less than pleased to find out that we’ve instead become friends and run off together.”

My breath catches. “You believe us friends?”

Juba looks at me openly, his brows furrowed. “I don’t like that you know so much. But the fact you do means that, somehow, I was meant to learn to trust you. Our futures might have changed quite a bit from what you foresaw, but not everything has to differ. To put things bluntly: I’d prefer it if we were friends, Selene, rather than strangers.”

I smile, my heart fluttering! But then…then I realize the truth in his words. “You want us to be friends, because I know too much. You do not trust me yet, and are unsure if you even can.”

“Does that bother you?” Juba asks.

“I lived an entire lifetime through my visions,” I say. “Imagine becoming so close to someone, so reliant on their kindness and comfort, only for them to forget you. I am left with memories that have yet to be made—aching for them to be made, all the while knowing that they may never happen in this life. Is it so wrong of me to mourn the loss of what was supposed to be?”

“It may still come to pass.”

Even if it does, will you love me again? Will you draw me into your arms and whisper sweet comforts to me, again? Will you promise our freedom and count the stars lying between it and us, again? Will you ever become the darling husband who was all the joy and goodness of the world to me, again?

Locking such hopeless questions in the depths of my heart, I smile. “Yes, it might, and I hope that it will. I miss the friendship we were meant to share. It was imperfect, but loyal and true.”

“Me, capable of a loyal and true friendship.” With a shake of his head, Juba reaches for me again. I lift my hand in anticipation of his grasp, only to be taken by the arms and pulled into a warm embrace.

“J-Juba?” I gasp, my voice weak beneath the pounding of my heart.

“You speak of a me I have never allowed myself to imagine I could be,” he whispers against my hair. “A friend—a genuine friend. You cannot imagine how happy the possibility makes me.”

Hesitantly, I set my cheek against his shoulder. “If we are friends now, then it is no mere possibility,” I say. “Our friendship can only grow from here.”

Juba hums, and after a while, his grasp tightens. I hear his heartbeat slow, shifting with his posture. Whatever he is thinking, it must not be pleasant.

“I feel asleep on my feet,” I mumble. “Would you stay by my side just a while longer?”

Sinking us to the wooden floor, Juba lifts his knees on either side of me. With his hands he pulls his scarf free, draping it around me like a blanket, whilst I curl closer to the pillow that is his chest.

“Does this position bother you?” he asks, leaning back on his hands.

“Not at all,” I yawn. “I was meant to sleep many nights under your watch.”

“And if your brother sees?”

“Let him. To rest at your side is my choice, and I am prepared to take responsibility for it.”

Juba is quiet for so long, I am nearly asleep when he whispers, “I give you my word, I will do nothing to harm you or your reputation. You may sleep easy tonight, Selene.”

“I…I always sleep easy…when you are near.”

Lulled into the darkness, I dream of a future Juba who smiles at me and takes my hand, leading me outside. Together we watch as stars pour from the sky in shimmering, streaks of silver. All is calm and wonderful…until shouts fracture everything into slivers that burst apart as I open my eyes.

Blinking fast against the first bright rays of the sun, I flinch at all the noise before me. At the other end of the ship men rush to and fro, chattering on about how we have reached a port.

“Solid land at last!” Raja cheers from somewhere unseen, before Mrunal barks orders to prepare to dock.

A glance up reveals a clear, cloudless sky. I reach for it, stiffening at the feel of an arm wrapped loosely around my waist.

“They’re too loud for so early in the morning,” Juba grumbles, lifting his chin from my shoulder. “Your brother fits in with the lot, all too well.”

Cheeks warm, I beg my heart to calm as I ask, “Did you sleep well?”

Stifling a yawn, Juba hums. “I did. And you?”

“Very well, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I-…your brother is an imbecile.”

“Helios is?” I ask, peering through the shifting bodies until I spot said brother. Hanging from two long, brown ropes around his wrists at the head of the ship’s curved bow, Helios throws his head back against the wind with a whoop.

“If he falls, he’s done for,” Juba says, moving his arm as I jerk to my feet.

“Helios!” I cry, dodging men and crates and ropes until I am just below him. “Helios, get down from there!”

“I’m fine, Selene!” he laughs. “You should join me. It’s amazing up here!”

“Isn’t it?” Raja asks, hopping down to land at his side.

Visibly surprised, Helios hurriedly throws his arm around her waist, pulling Raja in close when she sways toward the sea.

“You’re crazy!” he shouts, to which she laughs harder.

“As if you are one to talk!”

With cheeks tinged pink, Helios smiles, barks a laugh and turns once more to face the breeze. And though I worry for him, I cannot help admiring how he looks in the red blush of dawn—like the visage of a great hero from one of Father’s tales of old.

My heart lurches, weighted with pride and sadness. My childish, easily frightened little brother looks so much like Cearion now—so much like Father…

“It’s too early for this,” Ptolemy groans, rubbing her eyes as she walks up to my side. “Get down from there, Heli. You’ll fall in and sink us all!”

“Such a worrisome child,” Raja tsks, glancing back. “I had Mrunal pick some clothing from the supply we’ve gathered along our journey. Both of you should leave for the hold and get changed. New attire might make you feel more confident.”

“Anything other than sea-worn rags, will make me happy as a crocodile in the sun,” Ptolemy mutters, turning toward the slim door in the raised, square hold stationed at the center of the ship.

I follow her, surprised to find the space well-lit from the portholes on either side. Lying in folded piles upon a brown crate to my left, four heaps of clothing rest. Assuming the darker piles are for Helios and Juba, I look to the silver and cream-colored ones.

“I’ll take the golden pair,” Ptolemy says, plucking the cream-colored pile.

“Alright,” I say, and take the other.

Pulling off the remains of my once beautiful coming-of-age gown, is hard. Mother designed it and helped me to dress, herself. She was so proud when I had finished. To see the tattered ruins now-

“Oh!” I gasp, feeling at my bare back with the realization that Cearion’s pelt-cloak has vanished. A deep sense of loss sinks my heart.

“How do I put these on?” Ptolemy huffs, struggling to understand the creamy shalwar pants.

“Let me dress and I will help,” I say, pushing my feelings aside.

It takes only a couple minutes to pull on the baggy silver shalwar of my own, before I don a soft blue tunic speckled with silver and slit at the sides. Unfurling a matching veil, I wrap it over my head, under my chin, and throw the rest over my shoulder.

Helping Ptolemy to do the same, I smile at the sight of her small face poking out from a golden-yellow veil, which matches her tunic. She looks nothing of the Daughter of Kemet I have always known, yet even so, the clothes suit her.

“Are you done in there?” Helios asks, rapping on the door. “The swine and I need to change!”

“Stop calling him that!” I demand, ripping the door open.

Helios falls forward, only just managing to catch himself on the doorframe. Juba snickers a few feet back, his eyes widening when they fall upon me.

“Do I look alright?” I ask, blushing under his gaze. “I’ve never worn such clothes before. Neither in style nor in color.”

“You look akin to a spring day,” Juba says softly.

“You look like a fancy bag of wheat,” Helios scoffs, shoving past me. “Let’s hurry and get dressed, Swine. The sooner we’re off this boat, the sooner we’ll find out if Cearion made it safely to Indrira.”

I smack a hand to my forehead. “Forgive him, Juba. He’s still a bit of a child.”

Juba nods his agreement, passing me by before he pulls the door shut. Together with Ptolemy, I walk toward the front of the ship, where I marvel at the sight before us. Thick pillars of intricately carved stone jut out toward the water, acting as docks for the nearby ships. From there, rows upon rows of stone steps lead up to a city of towering buildings made of light, reddish-brown stones. Arches and pillars swoop upward, meeting at the corners of arched rooves and peaked domes from which great spears thrust into the sky.

On the stone path between the buildings, under the shade of tall trees with high, flat limbs coated in brilliant green leaves, hundreds of people mill about. Dressed in shades of pinks, blues, blacks, oranges, and yellows, the crowd looks nothing of the somber white, tan, and black-clad crowds of Alexandria.

“Wait until you see our capital,” Raja says, appearing behind me. “Come, step onto the sacred land of Indrira. Take in the sights—the smells! All we have, I offer you a taste of now.”

“Thank you,” I say. Walking to a plank on the left, I disembark, breathing in the spicy scent of some kind of herb I have never smelt before, which mixes with the comforting aroma of jasmine.

“This is just a port city?” Ptolemy gasps. “I’ve heard that Indrira is wealthy, but I never imagined all of this for some coastal backwater.”

Again, I smack a hand to my forehead. “Watch your tongue, Ptolemy.”

She rolls her eyes, turning back with a huff. “Excuse me for being impressed.”

I shake my head, sparing a glance back, and turning fully as Helios and Juba join us. My brother’s light hair and eyes glow, accentuated by the night blue tunic and black shalwar he has donned.

Juba, in contrast, looks a vision of mystery. Hair remaining in its high tail, his tunic is deep black and split in the front to reveal a deep gray under-shirt. Tied at the waist with a belt of jade green, a pair of tan shalwar cloak his long legs.

These, combined with his red scarf and the scarab necklace, leave Juba is a sight to set my heart ablaze.

“Do I look alright?” he asks, noticing my stare.

“Very much so,” I breathe. “You-”

“Selene!” Helios shouts, at the same time that Juba throws his arms around me.

“Watch out!”

***