I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 5

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“The sea is calm tonight,” Juba says, several hours later. “It should be safe to rest a while. We’ll need our strength for the remainder of the journey to Indrira.”

Clinging to my oar, my aching fingers force it up to lie across the edges of the boat. My joints are stiff when I let go, my arms crying in protest from overuse, as I look back toward my siblings.

Resting with their backs to the prow, Helios holds Ptolemy in his arms, his chin set upon her head and his tunic still clenched between her fingers. They have been asleep for nearly two hours, their cheeks still wet with tears.

“You should sleep,” Juba says. “I can keep watch for an hour or two.”

“How can I sleep?” I ask, my voice a dry, aching croak. “All I might dream of are the horrors we’ve fled.”

“I know it’s hard, but you can’t stay awake forever.”

As my lips part to reply, a particular vision of Juba and I flitters across my mind. For so long, I had held back my pain and tears, refusing to show any weakness before Octavia and her household. One day, shortly after our marriage, Juba confronted me about the matter.

‘Stop holding it in,’ he’d said. ‘Stop forcing your eyes to stay open, until you pass out. It will do nothing to change the nightmares awaiting you.’

For the very first time, Juba took me into his arms and held me close, refusing to budge when I’d tried to pull away.

‘I am fine,’ I’d said, cheeks flushed. ‘I-’

‘Don’t lie to me!’ As he spoke, Juba held me tighter. ‘I understand your suffering—better than anyone, I understand! Because Roma destroyed my homeland, too.’

Baring his heart, Juba told me the story of how Roma swept in under the cover of a terrible storm. Warriors stormed the palace, killed Juba’s father, and took him prisoner. Most assumed that Gustavian would sacrifice Juba to the great spirits. Instead, he was made into Gustavian’s personal slave and forced to endure far worse punishments and humiliations than I could imagine.

By the end of his explanation, I was in tears. Tears which Juba brushes away with a smile. ‘Do not cry for me,’ he’d begged. ‘Instead, trust that my concern for you is genuine. That my advice has been hard learned from my past experiences.’

I’d nodded, and Juba pat my head with the first warm smile I had seen upon his lips. ‘Good. Now promise that you will have more a care for your health, so that my heart can at least be at ease.’

“You never changed,” I whisper, smiling at the image of us two. Overwhelmed, I had thrown my arms around Juba and sworn to try my best. In response, he’d held me until the light grew dim, and our stomachs’ growling demanded that we part to find something for supper.

“Changed?” Juba of the present asks. “Right, you claimed I was part of the future you foresaw.”

“We met in Roma, after Gustavian took myself and my siblings as spoils of war. I was gifted as a servant to Octavia, and as such, I saw you often.”

“I serve Gustavian,” Juba notes, to which I shake my head.

“He owns you, but he has you serve Octavia more often than not. In the future, you were meant to tell me how Gustavian treated you the same as he treated us: like trophies. Something to brag about when it was convenient, but elsewise left to wallow in the shadows.”

Juba’s eyes widen, and I try to smile. “You were meant to tell me that you despise surprises, for they have never been good. Yet I have surprised you many times, tonight. I hope you can forgive me.”

Juba looks away. “What do you think I will say next?”

“I’ve no idea. But the you I foresaw would tell me not to feel bad. The situation might be different, had I any control over what I’ve seen. But since I don’t, it is not my fault, and you will not blame me.”

Juba’s wary eyes slide back toward me. “Given what I have seen, and heard, you do not come across as one who forgives herself easily. If you had, I might think you are trying to manipulate my perspective of you.”

“Father always said that I was too hard on myself.” My voice wavers. “He told me that I…that I should be more childish, while I had the chance.”

As tears come to my eyes, I find myself surprised that I have any left to cry, and sink my teeth into my lower lip in an attempt to fight them off. I do not want to cry right now. My chance to heed Father’s advice is long passed. I must be strong. I must be strong! I-

“Pardon me,” Juba whisper, and pulls me to his chest.

Arms loose around me, Juba presses his cheek against my hair and releases a tired sigh. With my ear to his chest, I hear Juba’s heart beating steady and slow—far slower than mine, which thrums so hard I feel faint! Somewhere inside, I know I should push him away. If all ends as the stars intend, I will only cause Juba to suffer. And if I can find a way to change fate, then the path I shall walk will be riddled with dangers, and I will become a burden to him.

But…but I do not want to push Juba away. I know there is no love in his embrace, but there is the kindness. And I need kindness right now. I need something strong to ground me, someone brave and wise to guide me. I know I must be brave, but I do not want to be brave on my own! Not just yet.

“It’s okay, Selene. It’s okay to cry,” Juba whispers. “If you’d like, I’ll pretend I never heard a thing. Only yourself and the spirits will know.”

And it is with that promise, that permission, that I break. Pressing my mouth against his shoulder, I cry and cry until my muffled sobs become tired gasps, and my heavy lids fall closed. I feel the brush of Juba’s scarf across my shoulders, warming me against the cool wind, before the darkness whisks me into its barren, peaceful embrace.

Peaceful that is, until a whisper of warning flitters past my ears.

‘The great spirits will not stand for this revolt against their desires. Prepare yourself. Hold fast until I have managed to calm the waves.’

“-throw you over and leave you for the beasts of the deep!” Helios snaps.

“Heli?” I ask, blinking fast before I cast a confused glance his way.

Cheeks flushed crimson, he glares over my head.

“I didn’t think it kind to move you, once you had fallen asleep,” Juba says, his breath warm against my hair.

A glance down and I find myself no longer at his side, but seated sideways across his lap. My cheeks warm, catching fire beneath the judging gazes of my sister and brother.

“Th-thank you!” I gasp, throwing myself forward to tumble into Helios’ arms. “You were a great comfort to me, Juba. Forgive me for having burdened you.”

“You were no burden to me,” he says, at the same time Helios sneers, “Next time, just wake me. There’s no reason to accept the comfort of a Romasian swine.”

“He is not Romasian and certainly not a swine,” I huff. “Apologize.”

“Never! And regardless of where he’s from, he’s not family and not your husband. He has no right to lay his hands on a Daughter of Kemet.”

“As if that title still matters,” Ptolemy grumbles, slumping over the side of the boat. “It’s worthless, now that Kemet has been lost.”

Helios’ glare slices left. “Continue speaking such treasonous lies, and I will send you to sleep with the fish.”

“Is barking threats all you know how to do?” Juba sighs. “How childish. Especially for one who has supposedly come of age.”

Helios’ eyes flash. Teeth bared, he flails his arms, held back only by my grasp around his waist. “Who are you to criticize a Son of Kemet?” Helios demands. “You’re just some common swine who took advantage of my sister in her hour of weakness! How dare you try and talk down to your betters?”

“That’s enough!” I shout. “I looked to Juba for comfort—he did nothing wrong!”

“I don’t care!”

Back and forth, we argue in a battle fierce as that of the sun and moon. I am near ready to throttle my twin, when a droplet falls between us, and in sync, we look up. A cold wind sweeps through, urging the low waves a bit higher. Fierce rumblings echo in the distance, growing louder as the sky shifts from gray back to black.

Helios goes still, his face pale. With the first flash of lightening, he dives into my arms with hands pressed tightly over his ears. Back home, this would have drowned out the next great roar of thunder. But from here, it is far too loud.

A wicked boom cracks the air overhead, so loud that it shakes all the world.

“A storm so suddenly?” Juba growls, looking all around us. “And not an island in sight.”

“What’s happening?” Ptolemy asks, throwing herself to the floor. “I hate this—make the boat stop heaving!”

“Selene,” Helios whispers, crying out at the next crack of thunder. “Selene, help.”

I hold him closer, for what else can I do? We are adrift, without a ship capable of withstanding rough seas, and there is no land for miles.

We are at the mercy of the spirits of the wind, rain, storm, and sea.

“Forget the oars,” Juba calls, over the rising wind. “The waves are mounting. The’ll be ripped from our hands if we try to row now.”

“What do we do then?” I ask, craning my neck back to look at him.

Juba crouches low, his hands grasping either side of the boat. “Hold tight, try to keep us balanced, and pray for a miracle.”

Before he has finished speaking, we lurch to the left, swept up so fast that my stomach knots, only to drop back down with a heavy slam and spray of water. Instantly, we are soaked.

“Crouch, Helios,” I command, moving his hands to grasp the boat’s edges. “I know that you’re afraid, but you must focus. Hold tight and do not let go! Do you understand?”

His lips tremble so violently he cannot speak, so he nods, clenching the wood till his knuckles go white. When I turn round, I see that Ptolemy has thrown her arms around Juba’s waist, her face buried against his stomach.

Juba looks from her to me. I look beyond them, any my stomach drops.

A huge wave, higher than anything I could imagine, is mounting to brush the bottoms of the black clouds. With each flash of lightening, yellowed spots flicker, illuminating the wave with an otherworldly glow. It is nearly upon us when a torrent of rain rips free from the sky and blurs all the world.

And then we hear the wave crash.

Thrown to the left, the boat tips so far onto its side, I fear we will capsize! Just as fast, we are thrown to the right, heaving side to side by mighty slaps of choppy, vertical waves. My eyes burn from the salt of the water, barely blinked away before more splashes onto my face. At my ankles, I feel water rising. At this rate, the boat will fill within minutes, and we will be left to drown.

A second monstrous crash spins us so fast, I hear Helio’s groan. I’ve no chance to ask if he is alright, before the boat shifts upward, dragging us higher and higher. Try as I might, I can see nothing. I cannot tell where the sky is or where the sea ends.

A roar of thunder shatters through the deafening pounding of the rain, and a deep voice sneers at us. ‘To you who dared challenge the will of the stars: seek repentance in the bowls of a watery grave!’

“We are going to be thrown into the sea,” I whisper, and not a heartbeat later, the boat tips upright.

All at once, we are thrown into the open air.

Ptolemy screams, she and Juba vanishing to my left. Helios latches onto my arm, his fingers slipping until they fall away. Following the blue of his desperate, pleading eyes, I reach out as he falls away from me.

Alone and falling fast, peer through the tendrils of my drenched hair for any sign of the moon. Her spirit must be looking down at me from somewhere. Isn’t she? Surely she will not allow us to end like this. Surely she will intervene somehow—she has to!

All the breath rushes from my chest then, as my back slams into the water hard as a stone. Too quick to even attempt a gulp of air, I sink into a world far darker than the one above. And so terribly cold, too. As my hair splays out around me, reaching toward a flashing surface, my hands drift up as well. But what could I possibly be reaching for now? There is no salvation up there. There is no salvation anywhere…

A strange sensation envelopes me, the further I sink. Thousands of tiny bubbles have appeared, clinging to my skirt, my legs, my cheeks—they form a shimmering film, one that rapidly encases my entire body.

‘Hold fast. Help is coming.’

The voice of the moon spirit brushes over me like a caress, followed close by the deeper voice that had condemned us. Only now, his tone is that of a man broken with sorrow.

‘My precious daughter. Hold fast, till help has come.’

Why would you cast us into the sea, only to sound so regretful once we are in it? I close my eyes, succumbing to the lull of the darkness. Floating in an abyss of nothingness, weightless and yet…surprisingly without the slightest sense of pain, I wonder if this is what it feels like to die. If so, then it is not nearly as bad as I have feared.

The thoughts are still crossing my mind, when something tugs at my hair and tips my head back. Something else, soft and long—like ribbons of satin, wrap around my arms and pull. My head tugs twice more, and then I am moving faster and faster until—

I gasp, choking in air as my head breaks the surface. Forcing my eyes open, I expect to see yet another massive wave overhead, or else the blur of the rain.

Instead, I find a cloudless sky set over a calm, gentle sea.

Small waves lap at my cheeks, shoving short strands of silver to plaster across my face. The feeling of it is annoying, itchy, but I’ve no strength to brush them back or to figure out what they are.

“Stay with me,” a melodic, feminine voice begs.

“We shall reach the shore, soon,” another says, this one from my left.

With the last of my strength, I look over to find the shimmering, pale face of a beautiful woman. Her green eyes wide and turquoise hair flowing in waves around her, she smiles with teeth white as the snow of Father’s stories from his ancestral homeland.

“Do not be afraid,” the woman says. “We shall carry you, and all will be well.”

Even if I could find my voice, I do not think I could bring myself to argue with her. So I dip my chin in a nod, look forward, and allow the strange women to carry me, once again, off toward the unknown. 

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