I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 3

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Juba and I part with that, I with a heavy heart and he…well, if he is the same as in my visions, then he must be so terribly confused. I wish I could soothe him with some words of hope or comfort. But tonight will not end with comfort. It shall end with bloodshed and fighting; death and destruction.

“What am I to do?”

“Brush that crocodile’s tail you call hair, slap on a fresh dress, and pray that Father doesn’t have a fit for how late we are.”

Having lifted my eyes whilst he spoke, I frown as Cearion grins at me with crossed arms, standing half-concealed in the doorway to my bed chamber.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Mother told me to come find you. She didn’t say so, but something’s wrong. Right? It’s never a good sign when Heli shows up before you.”

I glance away. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Crouching faster than my eyes can keep up with, Cearion’s catches my gaze, searching and clearly self-certain that he is right. “You’re not okay, Leanie. What happened?”

I am tempted to tell him, to spill all my secrets and beg him for guidance, as I so often did when I was small. Instead, I shake my head. “I was shown many things last night, and not all were good.” Considering my words with the utmost caution, I meet Cearion’s eyes. “I fear something terrible will befall us before the night’s end, so please, be careful.”

He straightens, lips set in a thin line. “You’re sure about this?”

“I will wager my life on it.”

Cearion nods. “I’ll keep my sword close, then.”

Fearing the weapon will do little to help, it suddenly occurs to me that the future I saw has already changed. I was never meant to speak to Cearion before the palace fell under attack. I was never meant to meet with Juba.

Can these things make a true difference? Can they be enough to prevent my visions from coming true?

“We’re too late as is, Leanie,” Cearion says, gathering a clump of my hair to brush his fingers through. “Turn and let me get the dirt off of you. Mother will be upset that you didn’t change clothes, but at least we should arrive before the banquet ends.”

“I imagine she had a dress lain out for me before we even returned to the palace. It shouldn’t take me long to change-”

“Faster is better on nights like this.”

Cearion’s never been a patient man, and he is not one to take no for an answer. So I turn, allowing him to brush his fingers through the rest of my hair, and swat the sand from the hem of my skirt.

Though still far below Mothers’ standards, when Cearion deems me fit to be seen, we head off for the Great Hall.

“You know, there’s a handful of foreign princes among the guests tonight,” Cearion says, as we pass into an open corridor.

Arched windows without glass line either side, the walls white and adorned with swirls of gold and blue. The marble floor is cracked with lines and swirls of black and gold, which absorbs the flicker of torchlight from the pillars between the windows, and allows the whistle of the wind to echo around us.

“Will there be another grand grab for your hand?” I ask, peering into the darkness. Are our invaders out there already? Are they watching us, and plotting when best to strike?

“For mine, no. I believe Mother’s plan is to see if you fancy anyone, and allow them to make a bid for yours.”

I pause, Juba’s face flashing before my eyes. “A bid for my hand? But I’ve only been of age for a day!”

Cearion shrugs. “Mother and Father were wedded young. It’s the way of the world.”

But Juba is not yet a noble vassal, let alone a prince, I wish to cry. There is no wealth, no show of power or possessions, that could draw my eye from the devoted man I saw in my visions. There is nothing that can shake my heart from its desire to be with Juba again.

And even if he should never become the man I adore so ardently, I would rather die alone than try to love another.

“Calm down, Leanie,” Cearion laughs. “I’m sure they won’t pressure you to take your wedding vows before the sun rises! Just consider a man or ten. There must be at least one worth considering.”

When I say nothing, Cearion unclasps the ruby brooches at his shoulders. Pulling his lion pelt cape away, he settles it against my back, pausing to pin the brooches to the neckline of my boddice.

“There. Let them see my sister for who she is! A devoted Daughter of Kemet, blessed by the moon and fierce as a lioness. Only the bravest, or the most foolish, will dare try for your hand now!”

Despite myself, I laugh, certain that I must be the fool. I know the terror to come, I know my own helplessness, and yet here I stand in perhaps my final hour of normality, laughing at such a silly idea. Only Cearion could have such an effect—my precious dolt of an elder brother, who is so terrible with words, yet never fails to make me smile.

But as the vision of his death flashes across my mind, my lips fall anew. Looking at Cearion now, at my strong, princely brother, I cannot bear to think of him left as little more than bird food. He is a pharaoh by birthright, after all. He deserves to live and die as a pharaoh should!

“Cearion-”

“Stay back.”

Throwing his arm out, Cearion goes deathly still, his eyes focused on the intersection down the corridor. I see nothing; hear nothing but the wind and the faint sounds of tambourines and flutes in the distance. But Cearion’s senses are never wrong. If he has sensed danger, then we are not safe here.

“What did you see in your vision, Selene?” Cearion whispers, backing us up slowly, soundlessly.

“Mother told me not to-”

“Tell me only what I need to know.”

“We will be attacked from the shores. Romasian warriors will ravage our kingdom under the shadows of the night.”

He curses low. “Mother would hear none of this—do nothing to prevent it?”

“She would not allow me to speak a word,” I say.

Cearion curses again. “Our people will sooner choose life than condemn your gift as a curse. She should have known that!”

“They will call for my head,” I try. “She acted to preserve my life, Cearion.”

He shoots me a glare. “What life did she protect if we are all meant to die here tonight?”

I never thought of it that way. What if I do die tonight? I sought to change the future, but changing it does not mean that I will linger on as the last Kemetian standing. I never considered the idea that my early death might be the change I had unintentionally set in motion.

“Keep calm and heed every word I say,” Cearion commands, moving faster as shouts and piercing cries rise from the opposite direction of the music. “Father will send Mother to her tower. Go there. Wait for Heli and Ptolemy. I’ll find Father and warn him of the attack. We may still be able to win this fight.”

“In my vision, I saw the palace burning,” I say. “I saw our parents end their own lives.”

Cearion skips a step. We both know that the reigning pharaohs of Kemet will end their lives by their own hands, before they will kneel in submission to the enemy. Mother and Father will only greet their ends, if all hope for Kemet has been lost…

“I will not ascend the throne under such ridiculous circumstances,” Cearion seethes, ripping his sword from the previously hidden sheath at his back. The curved blade glistens black, stamped with the hieroglyphic Was Scepter, meaning Power of the Pharoh in the ancient tongue.

The screams in the distance grow louder, closer. Cearion flashes me a look that brooks no argument.

“Run, Selene.”

I turn and do as told. Cearion is a skilled fighter—among the best Kemet has ever known! I will not worry about him just yet, for if confronted he will fight, and he will win. But as for me, I know nothing of fighting. I’ve been educated in many things, but physical exchanges are not one of them.

“Mother’s chambers are just down the hall,” I remind myself, cursing the way my skirts tangle against my legs and slowing me down. “The entrance to her tower is hidden behind the tapestry—on the wall to the left. I can make it—I will make it!”

I have only been in Mother’s tower once, when I was small. It looks out over the city, high enough to see the great lighthouse just beyond the coast, on Dria Island. The tower room was small, circular, and etched with seals of protection carved by pharoh’s of the past-

A crash sounds behind me, distracting me for just a moment! I stumble, throwing a hand out to catch myself against the wall.

“Cursed dress!” I seethe, bending to grasp a handful of my hem. With a sharp tug, I tear until the fine cloth is in ribbons around my knees.

Mother would be scandalized to see me running about, dressed like a man. The thought makes me smile. Perhaps, if the future has changed, if she can survive tonight, she will chastise me on some far-off day, when all of this is nothing more than a bad memory.

Rushing on, I round the corner and come to Mothers golden doors. Heaving one open, I slide it shut and run for the tapestry. Set between two bookcases lined with stack upon stack of tan scrolls, the tapestry hangs from the high, vaulted ceiling to the floor. Sewn with brilliant gold thread, a scene of the Kingdom of Kemet glimmers in the torchlight—a massive kingdom, wealthy and strong.

An eternal place of peace.

I shove the tapestry aside, pushing at the wall in until it gives. Swinging back with a loud groan, the bricks reveal a passage so dark, I can’t make out the first of the many stairs I must climb.

Be brave, I tell myself as I step in and haul the door shut behind me. Clinging to the wall, I walk as fast as I can, feeling for each stone step with my toes. Rounding the circle of the tower, I am near sick with dizziness when a flickering sliver of light appears, and Mother calls out, “Who goes there?”

“It’s me,” I say, popping my head into the open air. Standing with a dagger in hand, Mother drops her arm to her side, whilst Helios dips down to grasp me under my arms.

Ripped off my feet, I dangle in my brothers embrace. My heart brakes when, even as he sets me down, Helios cannot cease his trembling.

“They stormed the Great Hall without warning,” he breathes against my hair. “Armed with Romasian spears, they poured in from the windows, Selene. They had us surrounded before we knew what was happening.”

“Cearion said you’d sent him to find me,” I say, looking toward Mother. “He acted as if all was perfectly fine.”

“He left minutes before the attack began,” Mother says, pulling a weeping Ptolemy in close. “The fiends went right to the bards, commanding them to continue playing. As anyone new entered the hall, unsuspecting of the threat within, they were slaughtered.”

My blood goes cold. “Cearion sensed the danger and went to find Father. He must be in the Great Hall by now.”

“He’ll never fall to the likes of those traitors,” Helios huffs, jerking back. “Father’s still out there. Together, they’ll find a way to stop them!”

“This is all my fault,” Mother whispers, her eyes clenched tight. “I should have listened to you, Selene. I-”

“Why didn’t you just tell her?” Ptolemy cries, glaring at me with reddened eyes. “You knew this attack was to come—you’ve betrayed us all!”

“Liar!” Helios roars, whirling around. “Selene would never-”

“I chose to silence her; to protect her instead of our kingdom,” Mother interrupts, glancing toward the window on my left. “If anyone is to blame, it is me.”

Looking from her to Ptolemy, who crumples to her knees with heaving shoulder, to me and back, Helios shakes his head.

“Placing blame won’t help anything,” he says. “We need to stay united. Wait for word from Father and Cearion. Then we’ll plan how to handle this…this invasion.”

“What plan can be made?” Mother tosses an arm out. “Look, Helios! Look at Alexandria! Look at our buildings, our storehouses, our library—they are all burning!”

Helios goes still, and I run to the window. Just as I’d seen in my vision, everything is awash in roaring golden flames set beneath clouds of thick, black smoke. People run through the street, desperate to escape the chariots streaking through in from the sea.

I fall to my knees. “I wished to prevent this. I was granted the power to prevent this! Why was I given so little time to make a difference? How could I have stopped all of this? It was impossible!”

“Perhaps not.”

***