Chapter Twenty
Phoenix yanks out an oversized robe from his sack. “Put this on.”
I slip my arms into the sleeves, my muscles aching with the slightest of movements. We’ve avoided the subject of Lunia, and that’s for the best. I don’t wish to know his feelings on the matter of her betrayal. Because when we face them, I won’t hesitate to kill her if she stands in my way. And I don’t want him trying to talk me out of that.
Not right now.
Now, my only concern is stealing a lavender tonic so that I can force my brain to sleep. I repeatedly remind myself that Xarion is safe. In captivity and possibly being tortured—but he’s alive.
I need rest in order to plot our next move. I need to know where and how he’s being kept, how many guardians and soldiers watch him, and whether or not Candra has already been given the scepter.
If she’s not yet attempted to transform herself into some undefeatable abomination, then I still have a chance. If I fail to break Xarion out of his confines, then I need to be present during her moment—and am counting on Candra’s arrogance to make that happen.
I’m too drained to reason it all now. But I will. We will. Phoenix and I will save Xarion.
It’s my only choice.
As Phoenix and I leave the Library and step into the city, my breath catches.
The paved streets are cracked. Broken limestone smolders in piles of ember. Monuments are defaced. Statues heads loped off at the neck. And lining the Canopic are crosses. Bodies nailed to the beams. Dried brown-tinged blood stains th
e wood below their bare, spiked feet.
“Don’t look,” Phoenix says. His hand covers my eyes as he lowers my head. “Look down and hide your face.”
But even with Phoenix masking the worst of the carnage, my gaze still travels over mutilated bodies; hands, torso, heads—victims of war that the Romans have yet to clear away.
A violent wave of sorrow washes over me and I choke on a sob.
I’ve witnessed violence and bloodshed before—have been the cause of it. I’m a guardian. I’ve been trained to be hardened against it. But this is my home. My people. I can’t overlook this massacre.
The sound of hammers pounding spikes into the crosses echoes through the boulevard, my insides juddering in rhythm. We pass the Soma, and the macehead of the pharaohs that adorned the Sun Gate lay broken on the thoroughfare. Hooks are grappled into the polished pink granite. Ropes dangle from the tetrapylon. I wonder if Octavian saw to the fall of our great city personally, doing the deed himself.
I wonder if he was strong enough to tear it down.
When we reach the door to Phoenix’s apartment, I glance over my shoulder, stilling my mind. Try to feel Candra.
“What are you doing?” Phoenix asks, ushering me inside the dark room.
“Looking for her.” I tug off the robe and settle down on his couch. “I know she can sense me.”
Phoenix searches his small eating area, then fills a goblet with watered wine. “Lunia gave our plans away, Star. That’s how the Leymak found us.”
I’m too tired to rehash the happenings between me and the enemy. And I don’t want to tread near Lunia. Candra may not have been able to locate my exact location in the desert without Lunia’s assistance, but within these walls, it’s only a short matter of time.
I pray we have enough.
“Trust me, Phoenix,” I say. “She knows I’m here. She knew I’d head straight for the city. Straight to Xarion.” I bow my head. A gust of air whips through the open window and a shiver wracks my body. “I just don’t know what she’s waiting for.”
Phoenix hands me the goblet along with a vile of clear liquid. Lavender tonic.
“Gods. Thank you.” I down the tonic and chase it with the red wine. Then I lie back, uncaring that I’m covered in filth.
Silence fills the room. It stretches between us. And as my eyes begin to shut, Phoenix breaks the quiet. “Antonius fell on his sword.”
“Isis,” I whisper. “And the queen?”
“She’s being held captive in the palace as Octavian’s prisoner.” He stretches out on his self-made bed of blankets and flops an arm over his eyes. “The battle was lost to Octavian quickly. Habi heard report that Cleopatra ended her own life once Octavian took control of the city. Habi said that Antonius didn’t even flinch, didn’t hesitate for one second before he drew his sword, knelt, and ran himself through.” He releases heavy breath. “He was brought to Cleopatra alive—and died in her arms.”