solely on his shoulders because of who his father is.
I can’t allow us to begin a life together knowing that in time, guilt over his actions will destroy any love between us. He has to face his trials. And I have to face them by his side, as his guardian.
His protector.
I long to confide the many worries pressing on me to someone. To vent and cry and punch to get them out of my system, if only for a moment, so my head will empty and I can reason clearly again. And though I believe my friends would listen without passing judgment, I’m hesitant to ask this of them. They seem to have their own private battles.
Phoenix has been strange ever since the Leymak attack on the palace. He continues to keep a close watch over his charges, but he’s stern and short-tempered where—even for a Narco—he’s usually light-hearted and patient with them.
Lunia is the opposite. She’s taken to guarding little Delphus as if he were her own. He’s never out of her sight for more than a moment, and she’s even excused the royal eunuch, placing herself in charge of food tasting for the young prince.
The attack has changed life at the palace. I fear we’re entering the eye of the storm—waiting for the other side of the storm wall to make landfall. It feels like only a matter of time before the brewing tension within Alexandria erupts.
And things between Xarion and me couldn’t be more wrong. Since the night he accepted my plea as rejection, he’s become even more distant. He doesn’t wait for me to escort him to council meetings or processions. He doesn’t ask for my advice. There are no more sly, seductive smiles, or secret handholding. There are no more passionate touches or simple, warm embraces, and I ache to be near him.
Instead, he’s accepted his position as Pharaoh. He treats me as I requested: a guardian. Dictating even the most mundane commitments to be carried out. And it’s cost him his once-spontaneity—that spark of mischief that used to infuse the palace and all those within it with joy.
His stubbornness used to be endearing. Now it’s off-putting. There’s a bitter edge to his addresses and commands. The Kythan, though they don’t—nor would they ever—voice a complaint, scowl behind his back. If Xarion doesn’t return to his former majesty, he’ll evoke a hatred of their servitude, like King Ptolemy did before Cleopatra took the throne.
I don’t want to see that happen to him.
To get away from the pressure building under the palace roof, I’ve stolen a day for myself and come back to my home. I get few of them, and I’ve never actually ignored my duties for an entire day, but my mind desperately needs distraction. Hopefully Xarion will listen to me just this once and stay near Phoenix while I’m on leave.
Rhakotis swarms with hunters of cheap sewing materials, fresh caught fish, and merchants to trade their valuables with. Children run barefoot, weaving through merchant stands, splashing in the watering fountains for the horses and camels. Their lighthearted laughter tugs at my heart as I stroll through the quarter’s small marketplace. For a time, Xarion and I could’ve been one of them. Innocent, carefree. Happy.
I peer over an awning-covered stand and pick up a scarab beetle amulet inlaid with lapis lazuli. It’s a rare find here in the poorer district. The pads of my fingers brush over the blue stone. “How much?”
The Jewish man scratches his bearded chin as his eyes rake me over. He’s debating how much I have to spend. I’m dressed in my royal guardian attire. His eyes widen as he spies my golden armbands.
“Never mind,” I say, dropping the amulet back to the table. “I’m not that interested.” Though I know Xarion would appreciate the sentiment behind the gift, as the beetle is given to offer protection, I can’t possibly give him a replica. My pride won’t allow it. He has access to the finest jewelry in Egypt, and though this artisan is very talented in his
I can’t allow us to begin a life together knowing that in time, guilt over his actions will destroy any love between us. He has to face his trials. And I have to face them by his side, as his guardian.
His protector.
I long to confide the many worries pressing on me to someone. To vent and cry and punch to get them out of my system, if only for a moment, so my head will empty and I can reason clearly again. And though I believe my friends would listen without passing judgment, I’m hesitant to ask this of them. They seem to have their own private battles.
Phoenix has been strange ever since the Leymak attack on the palace. He continues to keep a close watch over his charges, but he’s stern and short-tempered where—even for a Narco—he’s usually light-hearted and patient with them.
Lunia is the opposite. She’s taken to guarding little Delphus as if he were her own. He’s never out of her sight for more than a moment, and she’s even excused the royal eunuch, placing herself in charge of food tasting for the young prince.
The attack has changed life at the palace. I fear we’re entering the eye of the storm—waiting for the other side of the storm wall to make landfall. It feels like only a matter of time before the brewing tension within Alexandria erupts.
And things between Xarion and me couldn’t be more wrong. Since the night he accepted my plea as rejection, he’s become even more distant. He doesn’t wait for me to escort him to council meetings or processions. He doesn’t ask for my advice. There are no more sly, seductive smiles, or secret handholding. There are no more passionate touches or simple, warm embraces, and I ache to be near him.
Instead, he’s accepted his position as Pharaoh. He treats me as I requested: a guardian. Dictating even the most mundane commitments to be carried out. And it’s cost him his once-spontaneity—that spark of mischief that used to infuse the palace and all those within it with joy.
His stubbornness used to be endearing. Now it’s off-putting. There’s a bitter edge to his addresses and commands. The Kythan, though they don’t—nor would they ever—voice a complaint, scowl behind his back. If Xarion doesn’t return to his former majesty, he’ll evoke a hatred of their servitude, like King Ptolemy did before Cleopatra took the throne.
I don’t want to see that happen to him.
To get away from the pressure building under the palace roof, I’ve stolen a day for myself and come back to my home. I get few of them, and I’ve never actually ignored my duties for an entire day, but my mind desperately needs distraction. Hopefully Xarion will listen to me just this once and stay near Phoenix while I’m on leave.
Rhakotis swarms with hunters of cheap sewing materials, fresh caught fish, and merchants to trade their valuables with. Children run barefoot, weaving through merchant stands, splashing in the watering fountains for the horses and camels. Their lighthearted laughter tugs at my heart as I stroll through the quarter’s small marketplace. For a time, Xarion and I could’ve been one of them. Innocent, carefree. Happy.
I peer over an awning-covered stand and pick up a scarab beetle amulet inlaid with lapis lazuli. It’s a rare find here in the poorer district. The pads of my fingers brush over the blue stone. “How much?”
The Jewish man scratches his bearded chin as his eyes rake me over. He’s debating how much I have to spend. I’m dressed in my royal guardian attire. His eyes widen as he spies my golden armbands.
“Never mind,” I say, dropping the amulet back to the table. “I’m not that interested.” Though I know Xarion would appreciate the sentiment behind the gift, as the beetle is given to offer protection, I can’t possibly give him a replica. My pride won’t allow it. He has access to the finest jewelry in Egypt, and though this artisan is very talented in his
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