I Shall Rewrite the Stars

Chapter 12

***

Of all the reactions he might have, Juba frown, and he swipes my hand into his own. Leaning in close, he asks in a whisper, “Do you think I haven’t considered it all; how in the future, you were meant to know so much about me?”

“I have told you how,” I say. “My visions-”

“But why did you even have such visions? Why, in the future, was I meant to tell you my secrets? Why was I meant to let you so close? Why were you meant to be so important to me?”

My heart pounds so hard it hurts, breaking with the desire to explain everything, and the knowledge that I cannot.

I look away, sucking in a gasp when Juba’s free hand takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting until our eyes meet again.

“Why were you meant to be so important to me, Selene?” He asks. “And why don’t you want to explain it all?”

Because it hurts, I wish to say. Because I don’t want what you feel for me, if anything, to exist only because of a future I have dedicated myself to changing. Because I long for a normal friendship between us, one that will grow into love as it did in my visions.

“Because in her attempt to help me change the course of fate, the moon showed me things that I had no right to see,” I say. “I do not wish to push the burden of knowing what might have been, onto anyone else. It is too painful, Juba.”

He holds my eyes, searching, and his expression shifts from longing to resigned. Finally, he drops my chin. “Remember when you said that if I were the future me, I would not blame you for knowing things you had no say in having learned?” he asks.

I nod.

“If it’s your burden to carry such knowledge, then it will be my burden to remain ignorant of it all. But when the time comes, I hope that you will reveal the truth to me. Until then, I will try—genuinely try, to trust you, Selene. It’s just that my secrets are…”

“Heavy and aching and painful?” I offer. “In the future, you were meant to tell me as such.”

He nods. “That does sound exactly the way I’d describe them. Though currently, I’d simply label them as dangerous. My secrets are so, so dangerous. And as I’m sure you know, Gustavian dangles them over me like an executioner’s blade.”

“And gloats about them when he feels bored, in an attempt to rile you for his own amusement.” I grit my teeth. “In the future, because my status as a royal child was far more well known, he blatantly abused me in such a way, for the delight of himself and the nobles. They cheered the humiliation of a Daughter of Kemet-”

“They were meant to cheer it,” Juba corrects. “But they will not. So long as we’re free, so long as we stay far from Gustavian’s grasp, that part of your future will change.”

“Our future,” I say. “So long as we are free, neither of us will know such terrors, again.”

To my surprise, Juba’s gaze softens. “To have lived that nightmare through your visions, and risk reliving it in the present…” He shakes his head. “Living this once is already too much for me. I could not bear to live it twice.”

“I-”

“What have I said about keeping your hands to yourself?” Helios shouts, as a long trunk wiggles between Juba and I, forcing us apart.

I cry out, falling onto my bottom. Raja laughs down at me, sitting atop the elephant with ease. Behind her, clinging to her waist, Helios waves his fist in the air. If looks could kill, Juba would be long gone.

“If she’d wanted me to pull away, she’d have told me so,” Juba huffs, skirting the elephant’s swaying trunk to offer me a hand. “You really have no faith in Selene’s ability to speak for herself, do you?”

“Come up here and say that!” Helios bellows, looking to Raja. “Better yet—have the elephant stomp on him a time or two. A broken hand will serve him right!”

“Now, now,” Raja snickers, instead pressing her heels into the elephant’s side and turning it away. “He made a good point. Selene is not so weak that she would allow just anyone to get so close. Have faith in her, Helios.”

Looking over his shoulder, Helios’ pleading eyes meet mine. I smile, annoyed but knowing that he means well.

“Such a childish principe,” Juba grumbles, pulling me to my feet.

“He has always worried for and tried to take care of me,” I say. “After all we’ve been through recently, I hope you can understand why he’s been especially protective.”

Juba looks toward Helios again, a shadow in his dark gaze. “You told your mother, that yourself and your siblings were all meant to die.” He pauses. “Helios did not live long after the capture you foresaw, did he?”

A sting of pain pierces my chest, and I shake my head. “We both had slaved under Octavia for half a year, when I struck a vase with my broom handle. Conveniently, it fell on her, and Octavia claimed that I had made an attempt on her life.”

Juba sucks in a breath. “Helios took the blame?”

“He did, and…and he was executed for of it. He-” I stop as my voice trembles. In my visions, Helios went to the executioner’s block with his head high, ignoring the jeers about his bruised and broken body. Gustavian made me watch from beside him, on his dais, where I stood with clenched teeth, and wrists clasped in chains and shackles of gold. “Before the sword fell, Helios met my eyes and he…he smiled.”

“Don’t think about it,” Juba whispers, pulling me into a tight hug. “It won’t happen. Whatever else might remain the same, we will find a way to change that part of the future you saw.”

“But it was all my fault,” I gasp. “Ptolemy died of illness. Cearion was betrayed and left to rot in the desert. Helios was executed in my stead. I was forced to live on without them—forced to keep breathing even when I’d begged for death to claim me!”

“I understand.”

“No you-”

I stop short, because he is right. Who could understand what I’m describing better than Juba? Juba, who has himself to survive even when he ached for the freedom of death. Juba, who knows a far worse pain, for whilst mine has yet to occur in reality, his has endured for years and years.

“Court later,” Mrunal says, directing his elephant to our side. “Time is wasting, and we’re still too close to the city for comfort. Let’s move.”

Seated in front of him, between his arms, Ptolemy looks down with the first real smile I’ve seen since we fled Kemet. Her eyes glimmer in the dawn light, though something cold shadows the blatant delight.

“He’s right,” Juba says, stepping back. “There’s a long ride ahead of us. We can speak more, later.”

I nod. “Right.”

Following a couple feet behind him, I press my hand over my heart. Banishing the terrible visions from my mind is difficult, but made easier by the lingering warmth from Juba’s embrace. And somehow, that warmth helps me to smile again.

Patting the head of the only remaining elephant, Juba helps me to mount the beast. Put off by how wide I must spread my legs to sit comfortably, my cheeks flush bright red. Juba snickers upon noticing, and hops up to sit behind me. Once his arms are secured around my waist, Juba presses both his feet into the elephant’s sides, and commands it to rise. Jostled forward, to the left and then the right, we end up far higher from the ground than I’d expected.

“Don’t be afraid,” Juba says to me, directing the elephant to turn around. “They’re gentle unless provoked. We should be fine.”

“We are just…very, very high,” I say, sucking in a breath as we begin swaying with each massive step forward. “I do not mind the height of towers, but to be so far up upon a moving surface is…”

Tightening his grasp, Juba hums against my hair. “If I promise not to let you fall, will that put you at ease?”

“Perhaps.”

Following along behind the others, a while passes before Juba says, “I’m sorry—about last night, I mean. I can’t truthfully take back the first part, but what I said about us and the future…it was cruel. I went too far.”

“Without warning I nearly exposed one of your most guarded secrets,” I say. “Your reaction was normal.”

“I still hurt you.”

“Because I scared you. I’d say we are even. Though, I truly hope not to repeat such an event. My heart is still sore from it.”

Juba sighs. “Forgive me.”

“I will, if you will do something for me in return,” I say, peeking back at him. “Promise to keep you word about genuinely trying to trust me. I miss the confidant I was meant to have in you, Juba. I miss being your confidant, too.”

“I’ve never had anyone in my life, whom I trusted as a confidant,” Juba says. “It’s such a strange idea. Won’t you give me even a small hint as to what led to such a strong relationship between us?”

I look forward. “I’m afraid I must decline for now. But as we spend time together, and get to know one another, you may just find your answer.”

Juba grumbles his relent, and I settle back against his chest. Despite how the sway of the elephant churns my stomach, I feel so at ease in Juba’s arms—safe even. And as my eyes slip shut, I find myself in a state of bliss.

If only I could reach out to the poor, cursed Selene whom the stars wrote me to be, and show her myself now. If only she could know that the future might be altered, and that she could be with Juba again. Would she feel happy for us? Would she weep? Or…would she feel afraid?

A sinking sensation weighs my heart, as I realize that meeting Juba so early could be more a curse than a blessing. If we grow closer now, it will hurt so much worse to lose him, should Gustavian capture us—or worse, end one of our lives.

All at once, the realization that the future I saw might still come to pass, crashes down on me. How ever much has changed, too much has not. My parents are still gone. Cearion is still in critical danger. Gustavian still seeks to enslave me.

And nothing is made easier by the spirits, that will stop at nothing it seems, to make me accept my tragic fate.

I take a breath, pushing my fears aside. For now, we are safe…for the most part. At the very least, we are free, and headed closer to word of Cearion with every passing mile. And I will save Cearion. I will change his fate.

My mind set, I surrender myself to the sway and flow of time. Our days pass in long, often boring rides over empty grassland or between the valleys of high, rocky mountains. At one point we cross a river so deep, the water rises to my ankles, and I fear we will be drowned. Juba comforts me, until we come out on the other side as fine as he’d sworn we would be.

For fourteen days we travel, avoiding cities and towns for fear of another ambush. Mrunal ventures to distant villages on foot, twice, returning each time with clay jugs of fresh water and sacks of fruits.

Together, our group eats at noon and dusk, then takes up shifts for sleeping. Come dawn, we ride again.

On the fifteenth day Raja is abuzz with excitement. Bouncing in place and head high, she watches the growing peaks of what must be massive towers, in the distance.

“We’re home,” she cheers. “Mrunal, we’re finally home again!”

“Almost, Highness,” he says, glancing back toward Juba and I. “When we stop, we’ll leave the elephants and walk the rest of the way. Can you manage that, Selene?”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” I say. “I will beg forgiveness now, for how ever much I may slow us.”

“If we are slowed due to your lack of shoes, then the fault is mine. Finding you shoes slipped my mind on the boat, and such luxuries are uncommon in Indriran villages.”

“Too much has happened for me to be less than understanding, so think nothing of it.”

He smiles, and halts his elephant. Juba does the same, slipping down before lifting his arms to assist me. I slide over, near swooning from the sensation of falling into my companion’s strong arms. After so long in his hold, it feels wrong to step away once I am on my feet, and to maintain distance as we join the others.

Taking Ptolemy on his back, Helios shoots Juba a glare from my left, while said man walks at my right.

“Be safe wherever you roam,” Raja says to the elephants, who’ve already turned back and wandered away. “We are forever indebted to you.”

After a minute, Raja faces forward and marches on ahead. Following close behind, I marvel as the curved domes of a massive, white building come into view. Pillars and arches line its front, glistening with engraved golden swirls. I recognize them as letters of the Indriran language, though I’ve no idea how to read them.

On either side, narrow towers jut into the sky, two in the front and two in the back. In the distance, all around the building many more towers soar toward the clouds. A structure almost like a pyramid, layered upon layers with arches, reflects the sun from its golden surface. Yet another structure of narrow layers, which reflects light from its hundreds of slim windows, absorbs the sun with dark stones of dark brown.

And so many more buildings, equally as fantastic, fill the horizon from left to right, far as the eye can see.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Raja beams, whirling around with her arms open wide. “Welcome to my home—to the sacred heart of Indrira. Welcome to Pataliputra!”

***