I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 13

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“Mrunal, help me to lay them down!” Raja calls, patting at the nearest elephant’s side. “And bring Helios—I want to show him the glory of riding across our great land!”

“Told you,” Mrunal chuckles, turning to my brother. “Think you can climb?”

“I should be able to,” he says, shooting Juba a glare just as a pigeon streaks between us to land on Ptolemy’s outstretched arm.

“Seems it’s taken a liking to me,” she says, petting at the bird’s small head.

“You befriended a pigeon?” Mrunal asks. “What is that on its leg?”

Ptolemy plucks a scrap of papyrus from the left leg with a roll of her eyes. “If you must know, it’s a letter I tried sending to Kemet. We can’t be sure that both of our parents have died. For all we know, Kemet is back under their control and we’re out here wasting everyone’s time.”

“Ptolemy…” Helios breathes with the same sadness that forms a knot in my throat.

“It must have returned to you for a reminder of how to get there,” Mrunal says gentler. “Come. You’ll have plenty of time to tell the bird once we’re aboard our elephant.”

“Must I?” Ptolemy groans, but willingly follows after him. “I can smell those beasts from here—they’re rancid!”

“Should we really take her into the maharaja’s palace?” Helios asks when she’s out of earshot. “Ptolemy isn’t…”

“Once we’ve gained his trust, the maharaja will protect her,” I say. “I’m sure of it. Until then, we’ll just have to keep her safe.”

“And quiet,” Juba says, drawing me forward a step. “Come. I’ll help you into place.”

“You’d better watch your hands,” Helios snaps. “The moment Selene wants to switch places, you let her.”

“As you wish, Highness,” Juba drones, leading me to the last of the three elephants.

It’s the smallest, but still so tall I struggle to clamber up its side even after Juba has hefted me onto the beast’s shoulders. When I’m finally up and seated astride the creature, I find myself missing Cearion more than ever before.

“With his power, he could just command them to kneel and await our boarding,” I mutter, only to suck in a sharp breath when Juba hops up behind me.

His chest brushes my back, his legs pressed along the sides of mine. I feel the rise and fall of his every breath; breathe in the sea salt scent of his scarf. And the moment his arms come around my waist, I feel as though I’ll faint!

To be held in the dark of night is one thing, but to be so close in the broad daylight reminds me too much of our time spent as exiled newlyweds.

Of the days when we were free enough from Roma to explore just how close we could get—

“Tell me something,” Juba says, his voice thick with an emotion I can’t name. “What were you to me? In our past lives, I mean.”

“I…I was your friend, as I’ve said—”

“I wouldn’t have risked my neck for a mere friend.”

“This thing is as terrible as I’d feared!” Ptolemy cries, trembling at Mrunal’s back on the elephant in front of us.

“Be brave, Ptoley!” Helios calls back to her. “Pretend you’re Cearion!”

“He’s too foolish to die. I can’t say the same!”

“Just hold tight until you’re settled,” Raja laughs. “Now—forward! Let us be at the capital gates within a fortnight!”

“Yet again, that’s too ambitious a timeframe, Highness,” Mrunal sighs, to which Raja just laughs some more.

With a kick of her feet, she spurs her elephant to move in a great, swaying step. Helios’ arms fly around her, his body tense, but he soon looses a whoop of delight.

Ptolemy cries out when her elephant moves, clinging to Mrunal so tight, the pigeon flies off to circle above them.

When it’s our turn my stomach drops, and a wave of nausea crashes over me.

“How far do you think we are from Pataliputra?” I groan.

“Farther than you’d like to hear,” Juba replies, pressing me tighter against himself as if to lessen the swaying. “Now tell me, what were you to me? How was a mere friend so important that you’d look at him the same way in a second life—regardless of his lack of feelings for you?”

“I…I cherished our friendship…above all else,” I say, clenching my eyes tight. “Oh, I think I might be sick.”

“This is amazing!” Helios shouts. “No wonder Cearion kept asking for an elephant after his blessing!”

“Riding them is unlike anything I’ve ever known,” Raja adds. “It is simply the greatest feeling in all the world!”

“So long as they remain docile,” Mrunal chuckles. “These three are still wild and without harnesses, Highness. Don’t push them too hard whilst they’re still getting used to us.”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

“They’re mad,” I mutter.

Juba shifts his hand so that his palm rests flat against my stomach, and presses gently, rubbing up and down. “Forget what I said,” he whispers. “I can see that now isn’t the right time.”

“I don’t blame you for…for having questions,” I say. “But the answers…”

“I am not your Juba. I’m not—I’m not…” He releases his breath slowly. “But there’s something inside of me that wants to be, some part that burst to life in your garden. Now, I want you to show me why. For however long it takes to reach Pataliputra, help me to make sense of this, Selene. If it’s a spill-over of emotion from that first life, I deserve to know just how deep it runs.”

“And if it goes too deep?” I ask.

“I…don’t know.”

Our elephant shudders, sending us reeling to the left then hard to the right. I’d handled the rough seas so well, I just can’t understand why this ride is sending dark spots skittering across my vision, or why I feel as though I will be sick all down the elephant’s side.

It figures Juba would want to talk at a time like this, when I’ve lost any illusion of dignity I might otherwise have retained.

“Here,” he says, adjusting me until I lie tucked into his embrace, my legs tossed over his thigh and back cradled in his right arm. After a few swaying steps, Juba releases his hold on a lump between the elephant’s shoulders, and brushes my bangs from my eyes. “Better?”

“A bit,” I say, too nauseous to so much as blush. “I’m sorry for having become such a burden.”

“I’ll let you know when I feel that you’ve become as such, so don’t apologize.”

I nod, my cheek settling over his heart in defeat. The Juba of our first lives was always direct with me, so I’ve no reason to question the true feelings of the man he is now. It’s a comfort in many ways, but also plants a seed of fear in my chest.

If Juba does decide I care too much for him, or that the feelings he doesn’t understand are too much to bear, he won’t hesitate to tell me. Should I prepare for that? Should I do as Raja said and close my heart, regardless?

Where must I draw the line between loyalty to my heart and loyalty to my kingdom? Maybe I was actually fortunate in my first life, for I fell in love with the man I was given to wed.

Maybe this time, I am obligated to give up on us.

Such sad thoughts hound me as we sway mile after mile, both day and night. Each brief stop, when the elephants pause for their own rest, is a blessing. My stomach settles just long enough that I’m able to hold down whatever breakfast, lunch, or dinner we can scavenge. But as soon as the elephants are ready to move again, I find myself slumped across Juba’s lap in the grasp of true misery.

For his part, Juba never seems to mind. He tucks the ends of his scarf around us when the night wind blows cold, and shields my face when the midday sun beats mercilessly down on us. He distracts me with stories of the foreign places he’s seen, when my stomach sickness forces whimpers beyond my trembling lips.  He sticks close, guarding me when I need to relieve myself or when an oasis pool lures Raja, Ptolemy, and I into its shallow depths for a long, long soak.

Everything I do and say, Juba seems to quietly study. At the same time, I take note of him. I’d thought this life’s Juba was just as direct as the one from his previous life, but I’ve found myself mistaken.

This life’s Juba opens himself to me in ways that demanded years of building trust before. He answers any questions I have, telling me stories of his earliest memories or which foods he likes best.

All he asks is that I be as open with him, which I am happy to do. So happy in fact, that when I catch Raja’s deepening frown directed at us, I can’t help but shrink away from her.

Bonding with Juba just comes so naturally to me. I can’t help it!

Though, given how close Raja has been to Helios, I’m left to question just how much room she has to judge me. For as the days drag on, the two become nearly inseparable.

When Raja stands upon her elephant’s back one evening, arms wide and face tipped up in the wind, Helios steadies her with an arm around her waist.

When Helios throws himself down a sandy dune two days later, in a bout of laughter, Raja follows right behind him.

Each time the two find a towering banyan tree to rest under, Raja sprawls out beside my twin, and naps with her dagger set across Father’s sword where it lies between them.

The moon is low in the sky several long days after our march to Pataliputra began, when I open my eyes to the sight of said pair fast asleep on the other side of our dying campfire.

Helios lies flat on his back, one arm slung across his waist and lips muttering some nonsensical sleep-speech. Beside him, Raja uses his bent arm for a pillow.

“They make a good match,” Juba whispers, the sound jolting me. A glance up reveals a small smile and tired eyes from the man whose chest had been my own pillow. “Did I frighten you?”

“I’d hoped you would get some sleep tonight,” I whisper back. “Mrunal said we should arrive at the capital by the day’s end. You could have used some rest to prepare.”

“I did sleep…a bit.”

“You’re only human, Juba. Even you need proper sleep every now and then.”

“You worry too much,” he says around a yawn. “Don’t tell me I was too weak to go without sleep in our first lives.”

“I’d nagged you about the matter then, and I shall continue to nag you about it now,” I say, my heart fluttering when his smile widens.

“I’m not used to anyone caring about me. It’s…”

 “Annoying? Unnecessary? Suspicious?”

“Nice.”

My breath catches, and when I meet Juba’s eyes, I notice for the first time how much they’ve softened since this journey began.

“Being called and treated like a person; being thanked and included not as an afterthought, but as a natural member of this group has been…” He pauses a moment. “Nice.”

“But?” I ask, to which he chuckles under his breath.

“I can’t shake the feeling that it’ll end soon. That I’ll be relegated back to one easily dismissed and of no import or value. Jambudvīpa might have banned slavery, but this is still a rigidly structured empire. The maharaja is likely to look down on me.”

“I’ve already sworn that you will be treated with the same respect given to me,” I try, but Juba’s softness vanishes behind a shadow that crosses his eyes.

“No matter how you might feel, it doesn’t change what I am or how little power you have to make demands. You should prepare yourself for the worst before we’ve even caught sight of Pataliputra’s gates. The very foundations of this land’s monarchy are built against women and those of lower status. The peace we’re enjoying now, may well be our last.”

I heave a sigh. “Even if the situation takes a turn, I have faith in the good will of the maharaja.”

A strong breeze tosses our hair across our faces then, and it’s when I bat mine away that I notice a figure off to our right.

Hands high and waving, Ptolemy beckons her pigeon to her, only to stomp her feet when it circles without landing.

“She still doesn’t understand that the bird is wild,” Juba says, pity in his tone. “It must have taken a liking to her, to have followed all this way, but that doesn’t mean it’s been trained.”

“It brings her comfort,” I say. “So I will turn a blind eye to her childishness.”

“She’ll be crushed when the truth finally sinks in.”

“Perhaps, but...”

“You’re too soft on her,” Juba says, to which I shrug.

“In our past lives, you were often too soft on me. I won’t apologize for having learned from your example—”

“His example.”

I roll my eyes. “Right. His example.”

However close Juba and I have become these past weeks, talk of who he was in our first lives has remained a sore spot. As such, he’s taken to referring to that past self as someone entirely separate, and regularly reminds me to do the same.

“Are you ashamed of that first you?” I ask.

“Ashamed isn’t the word,” Juba replies. “Given all you’ve told me, I find him cowardly. His hesitations, his backtracking, sound insufferable. When I make decisions, I make them fast and stick with them. I don’t like being compared to someone so unreliable.”

“I relied on him quite a bit,” I argue. “He’s the only reason I lasted as long as I did.”

“For which I would commend him, if not for—”

“Bickering so early will lead to an early onset of wrinkles,” Raja groans, drawing our eyes as she and Helios sit up. “Can’t the two of you talk during the waking hours?”

“I know you get sick on the elephants, but a lack of sleep won’t do you any favors,” Helios says to me, stretching his arms up and out. “Maybe you should try napping until we get to the city.”

“That won’t be possible,” Mrunal says, pausing to rub at his eyes. “Pataliputra rests just beyond the hilltops. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“We’re really that close?” Helios asks.

“We are,” Raja says, and rises with a grin. “Home awaits! Tell me, are you scared?”

“Of what?” Helios shoves himself to his feet, glancing around until he spots Ptolemy. “However great your father is, he’s a ruler just like my parents. He might be intimidating, but I can’t imagine he’ll be someone to fear.”

“Reconsider,” Mrunal says, then calls for Ptolemy to join us.

“Is there time for breakfast?” I ask, to which Raja shakes her head.

“You’ll be better off with an empty stomach.” She spins on her heel. “And a steel resolve. Today will change your lives, after all.”

Walking to the nearest elephant, she pats his wide trunk. “Be safe wherever you roam, and thank you for taking us this far.”

One by one we give our thanks to the elephants, then set off for the high, sandy hills far ahead. It’s a long walk, but as the dark of night gives way to dawn, the curved domes of a massive, white building rise just beyond the hillside. As we climb, pillars and arches appear to line its front, glistening with engraved swirls of gold that I recognize as Jambudvīpan lettering.

On either side, narrow towers jut into the sky, two in the front and two in the back, mirroring the many buildings and towers—hundreds of towers, surrounding it.

As far as the eye can see, a city unlike any I have ever known sprawls out in all directions.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Raja beams, whirling around with her arms open wide. “Allow me to welcome you to my home—to the sacred heart of Jambudvīpa: Pataliputra!”

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