I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 25

***

Taken aback, all I can do is stare.

“What is it?” Cearion asks.

“Did you not hear what I’d said to General Cyrus?” I ask in return. “I have spoken with the maharaja, in person. His capital city is very, very far to the southeast of where we are now.”

A shadow crosses Cearion’s eyes. As a tutor praised by our parents, General Cyrus’ knowledge is superior to most. It must seem odd that, in spite of this, they’ve somehow strayed so far from their desired path.

If only Cearion knew as I do, that it is no mere coincidence.

“Perhaps she speaks false,” Cyrus says, drawing our eyes. “The desert in this land is far crueler than any to be found in Kemet. It would be easy for the heat and fatigue to cause delusions.”

“Where might I have received such fine traveling attire, if not from the maharaja himself?” I challenge.

“I would not call what you wear fine attire, Highness.”

A glance down brings a flare of shame to my cheeks. My clothing have become dirt-streaked and stained—worn from exposure to the elements and sleeping on stone. I must look akin to a vagrant…

“Remember your place, Cyrus,” Cearion says, turning me to stand at his side. “Selene is heir to the throne of Kemet, until I marry and have heirs of my own. You will speak to her with due respect, and have good faith in all that she says.”

“You believe that a girl who cannot even read the stars somehow, miraculously, escaped Kemet and found her way to the threshold of the mighty Ashoka Indrira?” Cyrus snorts. “And then from him to us? Be reasonable, Highness-”

“Majesty,” I snap. “Cearion is now pharaoh of Kemet. You will address him with the respect owed to his status as your ruler.”

Cyrus’ eyes glow with fury, cooled as a smirk lifts his pompous lips. “He is only the heir until officially recognized, Highness.”

He is still speaking when I turn and kneel, arms crossed one over the other against my chest. “As one who shares your blood, a child of Kemet whose loyalty is with our homeland no matter where I go, I swear my eternal allegiance to you here and now. Even upon pain of death, I will never betray your trust, Pharaoh Cearion Philokemetus. May time and fate prove my vows true.”

“Lift your head,” Cearion commands gently, if not a bit shaken.

When I do, his palms are extended toward me. I take them, standing with a smile. “You will make as great a ruler as our parents, Cearion. Believe this as a fact, and accept your title with confidence.”

“What other choice do I have?” he laughs, trying and failing to sound like his usual self. Throat bobbing as he swallows, Cearion whispers, “I’m not ready for this. There’s still so much I needed to learn from Mother and Father—I’m not ready to take their place.”

As his hands tighten, I flinch under their crushing hold. “You are the heir they raised,” I remind. “They trusted you—even from the other side of this life, I know that they still believe in you, Cearion. You may only disappoint them when you give up on yourself and our kingdom.”

He tsks. “I could never give up on Kemet.”

“Then already, you bear the resolve of a great pharaoh.”

Lips twitching to the side in a half-smile, Cearion tugs his hand back to ruffle my hair.

“Cearion!” I gasp, batting at him.

“You’ll help me to rule until I’ve found a suitable consort, won’t you?” he asks with a laugh. “Ah, but there’s still a long while between then and now. For tonight, let’s celebrate our reunion! And come sunrise tomorrow, we’ll turn back and make leave for Pataliputra.”

“Have you lost faith in me, Highn—Majesty?” Cyrus demands. “I already told you that Her Highness was-”

“I believe her,” Cearion interrupts. “Selene has never been a liar. If she says that we’ve gone the wrong way, then I’ll follow her in whatever direction she points. Either we’ll end up in Pataliputra or we’ll return to the sea.”

“In which case you shall charter a boat back to Kemet,” I snicker, brought to laughter at Cearion’s wide grin.

“I’ll build one myself if I have to.”

“Such a lively pair,” Aakesh muses, reminding all of his presence. Pressing his palms together, he nods over them. “I’d no idea that royalty had graced my humble temple. Forgive me, Rajkumari Selene.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Aakesh,” I say. “You were kind enough to reunite me with my brother, whom I’ve worried sick over. As such, I owe you a million thanks.”

“Is he a priest?” Cearion asks.

“A brahmin—a holy-man of this land.”

Cearion nods, passing me to set a hand upon Aakesh’s shoulder. “There is no expense I will spare in thanking you for helping my sister. As soon as Kemet is back within our grasp, I will reward you properly.”

“I only did as the great spirits bid me to,” Aakesh says, his gaze catching mine when he lifts his head. “Forgive my boldness, but I’ve a fine jug of wine in my sack. Would you care to grace this simple man with a shared drink?”

“If we’re to celebrate, we might as well do it right,” Cyrus grumbles, crossing his arms with a sigh. “Go ahead and drink your fill, Majesty. I’ll stand watch for the night.”

“Caving so soon, Cyrus?” Cearion laughs, turning back toward me. “A bit of wine sounds perfect! You will drink with me, won’t you, Selene?”

“If I try to keep up with you, I’ll die,” I say, noting how Aakesh’s eyes narrow. “But a glass or two can’t hurt.”

“Allow me to fetch the jug, then,” Aakesh says.

Taking a seat beside Cearion, who flops down with a huff, I follow his gaze toward sky.

“Which ones do you think Mother and Father became?” he asks.

“The brightest to twinkle over Kemet,” I reply. “You shall have to spot them, and tell me how greatly they shine.”

“You won’t look, yourself?”

“Since receiving my blessing, the stars shy away from me. I fear I will never see their full glory again.”

Cearion sets his hand over mine. “Have they turned away from you, because you saw visions of the future?” he whispers.

“A future I have already changed in many, many ways,” I whisper back. “Beasts and spirits and corrupt humans have all come for me, since we were separated. Precious few are happy that a mere mortal girl is daring to rewrite fate.”

“What’s the greatest thing you could have changed in so short a time? I don’t see why the spirits are all that upset.”

My heart tugs as I look up at him. “We were never meant to meet again in this life, Cearion. In the future I saw, word came that you’d passed in this cursed desert. You were not even to be afforded a proper grave.”

Cearion’s face pales, his wide eyes searching mine. “What nightmare did you see beyond the—no. No, never mind. Tonight is to be a celebration, so we’ll remain happy and focus on the chance for a better future!”

“Cearion-”

“But tomorrow, you will tell me everything,” he continues, squeezing my hand. “I won’t sit quietly while you shoulder such a terrible burden. You’ll tell me everything, Selene, and we’ll carry that weight together.”

“You are Pharaoh now. You should focus on your own burdens.”

“I’m your elder brother, first.”

“Mother and Father would tell you to prioritize the needs of Kemet-”

“When it mattered most, did they do that?”

I want to say yes, but would that be true? Living on so that they could fuel the hopes of our people, and call upon their sworn allies, would have been best for Kemet. Instead, they sacrificed themselves for the slim chance that Helios, Ptolemy, and I might live.

“I will always try to do what’s best for our kingdom,” Cearion promises, as Aakesh kneels before us with a large clay jug in hand. “But our family is just as important.”

“A thousand blessings upon your reign,” Aakesh says, setting the jug down to hand us both cups made of red clay. Pouring our drinks, he moves to Cyrus. “Won’t you have a drink? It’s not often one can celebrate a new ruler’s accession—well, not these days, at least.”

“I need my wits intact,” Cyrus says, stifling a yawn behind his hand. “Let me test His Majesties wine, and that will be enough for me.”

“A respectable decision.” Aakesh glances over his shoulder, toward a low howl that echoes across the dunes. “One can never be too safe under the shadows of the night. Your sacrifice of sobriety is a kind gift.”

“He’s just paranoid,” Cearion scoffs, passing his cup to Cyrus. “Do me the kindness of downing that whole thing. Then we can truly celebrate together!”

Cyrus takes a sip, his cheek twitching in an odd way as he does so. I watch from the corners of my eyes, stone stiff as a whisper of warning drifts on the breeze.

‘His lips’, it says. ‘Notice his lips.’

Cyrus pulls the cup back and stifles another yawn, his free hand quick to wipe away a white substance from the corner of his mouth. “It is safe, Majesty.”

“I never doubted it,” Cearion says, reclaiming his cup. “I-”

“Oh!” I gasp, shooting to my feet as my cup strikes the ground and splashes everywhere. Twisting, I throw my hand out and slap the cup from Cearion’s hand. It flies to the right, dowsing Cyrus’ feet.

“You stupid girl!” he shouts, shaking off one foot then the other.

“Selene, are you alright?” Cearion asks. “Did your hand cramp?”

“Oh, forgive me!” I cry. Throwing my arms around his neck, I press my lips to Cearion’s ear. “Act normal, and listen well: you are not safe with that traitor. He spat something into your cup.”

“It’s just a bit of spilt wine, Leanie.” Cearion pats my back, and whispers. “Are you sure?”

“Do not coddle her, Majesty,” Cyrus growls. “If she is to be heir to Kemet, she should be expected to act like one.” His voice lowers. “And accept the punishments befitting one who cannot live up to the expectations of their title.”

“Cyrus means to kill you, Cearion. Every step he has taken, lines up with what occurred in my visions.”

“He’s just upset to have been splashed. Cyrus won’t really punish you!” Then he whispers, “Swear on your life that this is the truth, Selene. Before I turn on him—before I turn my blade on a man who helped raise me, I need to know that you’re certain of his treachery.”

“If I am wrong, I will offer my life as retribution.”

“Stand and face your punishment like a dignified Daughter of Kemet, Highness,” Cyrus commands, his nails biting into my arm as he jerks me from Cearion’s grasp.

“Let go of me!” I shout, stumbling backwards as Cyrus does just that—no, he throws me away as if I have burnt him.

Through my hair, I note the way his face has paled and his eyes gone so wide, they look ready to burst from his face. A glance toward Cearion reveals a similar expression. But—

“Found you at last,” a soft voice hisses against my ear. Two large, pale arms catch me around the waist, my back striking something hard as stone, and a forked tongue flicks along the side of my cheek.

My breath catches in my throat, and I look up into the smiling face of the naga.

“That was a nasty trick you pulled, setting me against that cursed bird.”

“Th-…the spirits led us to it,” I breathe. “I had no idea it was awaiting us.”

The forked tongue slips out and back, the large eyes watch me with a predator’s calm. “I see. I will not hold you at fault, then.” Lips widening, the serpent’s fierce fangs extend past his lips and jaw, their points close enough to brush the top of my shoulder. “Regardless, I’ve a duty to fulfil. For overstepping your bounds, you must die.”

How…how did this happen? I wonder, paralyzed with fear. We accounted for so many potential threats, but never once considered the possibility that the naga might catch up to us. How can we fight it? How can we get away? How can we-

“Run!” Cearion shouts, springing up from behind the beast. Fisting two great clumps of its hair, he draws the hissing creature up and hurls it several feet away.

“Aakesh!” Cyrus roars, ripping a sword from a sheath at his back. “Take up arms—I will not allow some cursed monster to steal my glory!”

“As you wish,” Aakesh says, holding my eyes as he unsheathes his own sword, a curved blade that glimmers in the firelight.

“I-…I shall deal with that creature—distract it somehow,” I say, forcing myself to breathe, to think, and to keep my eyes trained upon the rising serpent. “Finish Cyrus quickly, Cearion. Aakesh and I will need your help to end the naga.”

“Clever brat,” Cyrus snorts. “But not clever enough. Finish her, Aakesh!”

Having steadily moved toward me, whilst we spoke, Aakesh takes a stance at my side, his gaze focused solely on the naga. “There seems to be a misunderstanding between us,” he says. “While I would love nothing more than to spill your filthy blood, my dearest Selene is in need of assistance. Tonight, I’m afraid, you are on your own, Cyrus.”

“Selene,” Cearion demands, a hundred questions in his tone.

“I trust Aakesh,” I reply. “He is on our side—he and his brothers, who will soon arrive as backup.”

“She is lying to you, Majesty,” Cyrus calls sweetly. “She has sided with that man, against you.”

“Selene would never betray me,” Cearion scoffs.

“I raised you. I would never betray you.”

“Liar.”

“How often have I said that you are like a son to me-”

“Liar!”

Cyrus heaves a sigh. “You could have died peacefully in your sleep, never the wiser to any of this.” Hefting his sword out, he launches forward. “If only your damned sister had died in Kemet as she was meant to, yours could have been a painless death!”

“My sword!” Aakesh shouts, slapping it into Cearion’s hands just as Cyrus is upon them.

I suck in a breath, ushered back and away by Aakesh, as Cearion meets Cyrus’ blow with an echoing clash of blade on blade.

“Go!” Cearion shouts, catching Cyrus’ next slash with one of his own. “Soon as I’ve finished this traitor, I’ll help you to kill that ugly snake!”

“How rude,” the naga scoffs. The ground rattles as it transforms back into the giant serpent that had chased Mrunal, Juba, and I. “You insult my appearance then dare presume that you can end my life? Well, I welcome the attempt.”

“Stay behind me,” Aakesh says, shoving me back a step.

Rearing its head high, the naga stares us down. “Prepare yourself, traitor of the stars, for there shall be no escape! Now, seek repentance at the razor’s edge of my fangs!” 

***