I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 16

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“Oh?” the maharaja asks, a sly glint in his eyes. “You disobey my direct order, show yourself before me unbidden, yet still shamelessly dare to make a request? How bold.”

“Ten thousand apologies, Esteemed Majesty,” Juba says. “I will accept any punishment for this disrespect, but please, don’t allow Selene to treat the yuvaraja before I do. I fear for her life if she tries.”

“I’ve a basic understanding of how healing her brother went, and am aware that the miracle took a toll. Knowing this, explain to me why a few hours of sleep is something to fear.”

“It was more than sleep. Selene suffered excruciating pain when she treated Helios. I fear that her body takes on the injury inflicted to her patient. If I am right, she will absorb a fatal amount of poison when treating the yuvaraja.”

The maharaja’s frown deepens. “I’ve been told that you believe my heir to be the victim of a Romasian poison. If he, a mere child, can withstand long-term exposure, why can a grown woman not handle a brief encounter?”

“Your Esteemed Majesty is wise among the nations, and so I’ve no doubt that you already understand my concern,” Juba says. “Long-term exposure to small doses of poison, will slowly erode a victim from within. But immediate exposure to a large dose of Belladonna will kill a hundred grown men!”

The maharaja tsks. “Such flower-embellished words layered upon your grave disrespect—truly, you are profoundly shameless.” Before Juba can reply, the maharaja walks past him, leaving us in a heavy silence.

Stunned, fearful for us both, I offer Juba my hand. “Why would you do something so reckless?” I ask. “You are not a reckless man, Juba.”

“I saw the suffering you endured when healing Helios,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. “To be poisoned by Belladonna is too cruel, Selene. I will not sit idly and watch you fall victim to it.”

“Even if I succeed in healing Raja’s son, you’ve crossed a line with her father. He may rightfully call for your head after this!”

Of all the reactions, Juba smiles. “For one who’s been so accurate in her knowings of me, you seem to underestimate my will to survive.”

“You cannot win against the master of Indrira, in his own palace.”

“I have survived a far more terrifying monster, in his.”

I grit my teeth. Even if he is right in saying that, why would Juba take such a risk for me? In my visions, he prioritized his life above all else for so long after we met. He-

Or did he?

Considering my visions, I recall the night I sat weeping at Juba’s side and tending to his wounds. I had fallen prey to a trick by my half-sister, one of five half-siblings whom I’d never known existed, until arriving in Vaticana.

Lured out of Octavia’s villa, I was accused of attempting to flee my mistress. After the many false crimes I’d been accused of, this particular incident was punishable by death. But Juba stepped in, claiming the entire thing to be a cruel trick he’d played on me.

Gustavian, overjoyed at Juba’s false slip-up, ordered a light punishment for his first true offence: to bear thirty lashes before a crowd in front of the palace gates.

Hours later, I was ordered to fetch him. To half-carry him to Octavia’s villa, where I was finally permitted to tend to his wounds. Horrified and confused, I’d begged for an answer as to why Juba had saved me.

‘I hate to see you suffer,’ he replied, offering a small, secret smile. ‘Don’t you know that by now?’

I blink back tears, observing the new surroundings as I come back into the present. Juba has taken my hand and led me into a large, circular room. Though trimmed in shining gold and strung with chimes of rubies and pearls, I cannot help but notice the lack of furnishings.

A large bed rests canopied beneath billowing, gauzy white curtains. A rug of deep red sewn with swirls of thread-of-gold, carpets the marble floor. Beyond these two luxuries, there is nothing. No toy blocks or wooden swords litter the floors, as they had in Helios’ chambers. No tapestries or flower-filled vases line the walls, as they had in Ptolemy’s. 

It is just…empty.

“For how long has this child languished?” Juba whispers, pausing when I tug at his hand.

“Before we treat him, explain yourself,” I command. “We both know that you have acted strange since…well, since our argument in beside the stream. What did I say to take such sway over you?”

Juba looks away with sigh. “Now is not-”

“But-”

“I need time.” Squeezing my hand once, Juba lets it fall. “Grant me that time, Selene, and let us focus before us. Alright?”

I nod, unable to speak for fear of what I might say. Just what could be going through this man’s mind? We were meant to be acquaintances for so long, before he would even declare us friends—and far longer still, before he first told me he loved me!

For a breath, a swell of fear seizes my heart. I feel so much for Juba—am bitterly aware of his lack of feelings for me. But what if that too has changed? What if I’ve managed to stir his heart somehow? What if…what if already, he has begun to care for me?

And if he has, how long until that care blossoms into the tender love I yearn for?

“Prepare yourself,” Juba says, already at the bedside. “A thousand curses upon the wretch who has done this to a mere child.”

Burying my hopes, I try to focus. For all our sakes, and for the friend to whom I owe so much, we must heal the yuvaraja! Strengthened by this resolve I walk to Juba’s side…

And my resolve cracks.

So terribly small and thin, with sunken cheeks and graying skin, the child lying upon the bed looks as if he already stands before the feather of truth. I bite my tongue, enraged the longer I look at him.

“I will save this boy,” I swear. “How dare he—how dare Gustavian order such a terror as this? No child could hope to pose him a threat worthy of this!”

“If he grows to adulthood, he might,” Juba says, pain in his tone.

He must be thinking of his own childhood, and the threat that he one day might have posed…

“We will ensure that he may grow to become the fiercest threat Roma has ever known,” I say, peering around the room. “Tell me, do you see the water from last night?”

Footsteps rush in behind us then. I turn as a young girl in an orange shalwar and tunic bows her head. Clasped between her dark hands, the crystal bowl from last night glimmers. Soon as I take it, the girl flees from the room, and the doors swing shut.

“Is nothing unheard in this place?” I whisper.

“You imagine it was any different in Alexandria?” Juba asks.

Considering how Mother always seemed to know everything, he must be right.

Without answer, I move forward, setting the bowl on the floor. When I dip my hands in, I can feel the lingering energy from the spirits of the moon and sea. Whispers rush forth, warning me against healing the yuvaraja. I dismiss them, determined to do what I can.

In the meantime, Juba lifts his scarab amulet, clicking it open to reveal a row of small vials filled with varying shades of liquids.

“Are you sure you wish to use your antidote?” I ask. “It cannot be easy to acquire.”

“I use it with no regrets,” Juba says, plucking a brown vial and closing the amulet. “Let Gustavian weep with rage for failing to kill this boy. I shall celebrate his frustration, as if we have saved my own son and heir.”

Sliding his arm beneath the yuvaraja’s neck, Juba tilts the boys head up and presses the uncorked vial against his lower lip. With a slight tilt, the antidote’s contents to seep in and vanish.

The yuvaraja coughs, groaning with agony as he swallows. When Juba pulls his hand away, his hard eyes fall on me. “What I gave him is not a cure-all. No matter its effect, you will still face a lot of pain. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I can handle pain,” I say, cupping a large sum of water. “I don’t know what will happen to me, but so long as your antidote has neutralized what poison still lingers in his blood, I should be able to endure until I’ve healed his body.”

Kneeling at the bedside, I take in a deep breath, and press my hands to the yuvaraja’s lips. The moment the water passes into his mouth, the child begins to glow, and a wave of pain crashes over me so intensely—so searingly!

 It is as if every muscle in my body has been set aflame.

Heart pounding, my vision swims. “Another,” I gasp. “Juba, please help me…help me to give him another handful.”

I feel a hand guide me, until the soothing rush of healing magic flows from the water through my skin and into my body. But soon as my hands return to the yuvaraja’s lips, the relief becomes agony once more.

Over and over this cycle repeats, until I am dizzy from the pain. Figures drift around me, moving to and fro. I do not know if they are real, but it would be nice if they were. For as the light in the world begins to dim, Mother kneels at my side with her hand extended, beckoning to me.

‘Drink,’ she whispers.

“Drink?” I ask confusedly, as she does not hold a cup.

“Drink, Selene!” Juba shouts, his voice shattering Mother to fragmented pieces.

No sooner do I feel hands at my lips, and cool liquid sloshing against my skin. Weakly I drink, basking in relief from my suffering. As my eyes fall shut, I watch bubbles drift through the darkness, each one accompanied by the brine-scent of the sea. It is so comforting, so peaceful…

“Selene. Selene, look at me. Are you alright?”

“Helios?” I whisper. Forcing my eyes to part, I find him kneeling next to me. Dressed in a long-sleeved tunic of silver brocade over obsidian shalwar, he strikes a dashing figure as he smiles.

“You’ve slept for three days,” he says. “The maharaja’s ordered a feast in your honor! I was told to come and wake you.”

“A feast in my honor? For what reason?”

“For healing Raja’s son,” Helios beams. “Dasharatha has made a full recovery. You’ve saved his life, Selene. You did it!”

Waking more by the second, I smile—no, I positively radiate with joy! Juba and I were successful. We-

“Where is Juba?” I ask, sitting up. “Is he not with us?”

Smile dulling to a frown, Helios stands. “He was placed under supervision in another room, as soon as the maharaja came to confirm that Dasharatha had really been healed.”

“Is he to be tried?”

“Something along those lines. All I could get from the guards at his door, is that the swine offended the maharaja, and will be dealt with at the banquet.”

“I must save him,” I say, hopping to my feet. “I—oh!”

Swaying, I fall against Helios’ chest. He wraps an arm around me, steadying me until the room stops spinning.

“Take it easy. I know you’re worried about him, but if he was gonna be executed, the order would have been given by now.”

“But-”

“Selene, why does that idiot matter so much to you? I know you’ve said you were meant to be friends, but that future you saw is never going to happen. You don’t have to get close to him again.”

“I will never wish for a future where I distance myself from Juba,” I say, pushing myself back a step. “It’s…he’s…”

After a long silence, Helios turns away. “Raja told me what happened the night you healed your ankle—and don’t blame her for it! Even if he despises Gustavian, that swine is still a Romasian. He’s dangerous.”

“He is not-”

“It’s impossible for the person he is now to love you back, Selene! You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak!”

I swallow hard. “Someday, his feelings might change.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Why do you care, regardless?”

“You’re my twin. Your happiness means as much to me as my own.”

A knock on the door draws my eyes. I realize I’ve returned to the room I woke in the first time, as two orange-clad maids walk in with heads bowed, carrying piles of silver cloth and jewels. Under direct orders from Raja, the maids explain that I am to dress and make leave for the banquet hall.

“I’ll be just outside the door,” Helios says, and walks away.

Once the doors have closed, the maids are upon me. With an efficient grace that leaves me stunned, the women help me to change from my shalwar and tunic to a beautiful ensemble of a jewel-encrusted lehenga, a short-sleeved choli, and a long dupatta shawl that wraps from my waist over my left shoulder.

Gathering my hair, one maid pins it beneath a mass of lilies, while the other sets a heavy line of silver and pearl bangles half-way up my forearms. Lastly, as I step into a pair of silk slippers, a long, translucent vail is settled over my head.

When I walk into the hall Helios’ eyes go wide. I smile, take his arm, and together we follow the maids to a large pair of scarlet doors. Just outside of them, I spot Ptolemy.

Dressed the same as I, she offers a small smile when we meet. I’ve no chance to ask how she is feeling, before the doors open, and a flurry of music fills the air.

Sprawled out before us, a rainbow of silk cushions line the path toward a raised dais. Men and women in beautiful silken attire sit chatting, passing platters of meats and fruits amongst themselves. In the back, by the marble-pillared walls, men play brown flutes and strum strange, stringed instruments. A few feet away, women dance in swaying steps, their veils blooming like flowers around them.

“Enter!” the maharaja calls, beckoning us with a wide grin. At his side, Raja stands with her hands clasped and cheeks unusually pink.

When we are close enough, my siblings and I drop to our knees.

“All of Indrira owes you a debt of gratitude,” Maharaja Ashoka declares, as all else fall silent. “To Selene of Kemet, I owe the future of my empire. To Helios of Kemet, I owe the life of my rajkumari. Both are worthy of the grandest rewards, don’t you agree?”

“We came seeking your guidance, Esteemed Sire,” I say. “We can only ask for that, as well as any information you may offer about our brother Cearion.”

The maharaja’s eyes glitter. “I believe you worthy of far more than that. Raise your heads now and heed my decree!”

We do, Helios and I sharing a confused glance. This man stands atop the world—there is no guessing at what reward he has in mind.

Throwing his arms wide, the maharaja stands. “Let all of Indrira know my gratitude for the aid of our ancient allies: the children of Kemet. For Selene, I offer whatever wish she so asks of me. For Helios, I offer the binding alliance of familial ties.”

Whispers break out, spreading like wildfire. Raja wrings her hands, refusing to look at us.

“What exactly does that mean?” Helios asks.

“Marriage, of course,” the maharaja beams. “I offer you a place at my side, as a rajkumar. To put it another way, I offer you the hand of my daughter, Rajkumari Raja Indrira!”

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