Return Once More

Caesarion and Oz had much in common. Oz would be equally appalled at the chances I had taken, the potential risks involved in sitting here, chatting with Caesarion. I knew in my gut he would never do the same, not unless he had solid proof that no harm would be done in the process.

There were too many questions, and none of them would be solved in ancient Egypt. Caesarion and I didn’t have much time left, and I didn’t want to spend it arguing. Or think too hard about anything he’d said.

“I wish you would fight,” I whispered.

“With you or Octavian? Or perhaps the gods themselves?” He winked, easing the tension between us further. “Honestly, I’m not sure who would be harder to move.”

“I’m being serious. You don’t have to die.”

“I do, Kaia. We all do, and I will not run, nor abandon my people to live under Rome’s rule while I watch from a distance. I have accepted the brief nature of my time on this plane, and please … I need you to do the same.”

He thought we were alike, but we weren’t. I wasn’t brave. I didn’t accept that some things were meant to be awful, not now, not after I’d touched him and kissed him and known him.

A quick, silent count to ten dissolved the rest of my irritation, leaving me nothing but raw truth that I was nowhere near ready to accept. I burrowed into Caesarion’s side, resting my head on his chest and marveling in the steady, strong beat of his heart. “We probably have a few minutes before your guards return and decide that murdering me is best, no matter your orders.”

He chuckled and tangled a hand in my hair. We stared up at the sky, the Milky Way a picturesque streak across the navy blue that I’d never seen quite this way. The bio-tat tried to force an astronomy lesson on me without giving up on encouraging me to drop Caesarion’s hand, and I wished I had chewed another couple of painkillers. My whole head throbbed, but the pain held no sway over the agony ravaging my heart.

“Tell me a story about the sky.” My voice sounded wet.

His fingers loosened in my hair, trailing down my neck. “Surely a girl from the world to come knows more than I about such things as stars.”

“Maybe. But you have better stories.”

It was something we’d lost along the way—the ability to be awed by the unknown, to create myths that made sense of the inexplicable, instead of boiling mysteries down to their basest components. It was true I knew the science of the Milky Way, but the science wasn’t beautiful. Right now, when all the universe seemed spun by magical hands of ethereal beings, I craved the sound of Caesarion’s voice telling me of Hathor, of the smeared river of stars that led to the world beyond this one.

And he did. He told me how Hathor was the Egyptian goddess of fertility, of life, and Osiris the god of death and rebirth, a symbol that a corporeal death only marked the begi

“Why is Hathor co

“Hathor is the milk of the mother, the river where Ra and the Kings of Egypt travel between their celestial realm and their creations on this planet. She floods the Nile to give life to my people and bursts water from the womb to signal an imminent birth.” He rolled toward me, pressing his hard chest against my side as he absently ran a hand over my belly. “Do you know the tale of Osiris?”

“No,” I whispered. It was the truth. Though I could know it in a matter of moments with a single request to the bio-tat, I preferred hearing it from him.

The sound of a cleared throat and clomping boots interrupted the cocoon we’d built, signaling the end of our hour and time for me to return to Sanchi before Analeigh hit the panic button. Our wrist comms didn’t work while we were in the past, but I suspected mine would be full of frantic, angry texts upon my return.

Caesarion and I both struggled to a sitting position and looked up to find the mean, bald guard glaring down at us, his hand on the hilt of his cruel-looking dagger.

“It is time we retired for the night, my Pharaoh. The sihr will go.” He spat into the sand, the wad of saliva landing a little too close to me.

“Give me a moment to say my farewell, Thoth, and then I will return to camp. I presume you and Ammon have procured lodgings?”

“Yes. The i

The two men stared at each other until Thoth finally backed down and left.

Caesarion pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in another hug, his fingers digging into my back. “Is this good-bye, my Kaia?”

“Didn’t you just lecture me that it should be?”

His arms tightened. “I wanted you to understand that what this boy is doing and what you have done are no different. If it is wrong for him to interfere, it is wrong for you. But no. I do not wish this to be good-bye.”

My throat burned and I clung him, using his solidity to hold myself together a little longer. I didn’t know if or when I could come back, or how many days remained before he returned to Alexandria and certain death. All I knew was that if he had more time, I would find more time.

It wasn’t too late.

“I’ll come back, Caesarion. At least once more while you’re still here.”

“Am I going somewhere?” He pulled back to peer into my face, searching for answers or for the comfort he perceived rested in knowing the future.

“Yes. You’ll return to Alexandria at Octavian’s request.”

His lips pursed as he seemed to consider why he would acquiesce to such an obviously unwise request, but then straightened his shoulders. “It is my time to die, and Octavian’s time to rule. The gods have willed it, and why should a mortal run from the beautiful life that awaits me on the other side of death?”

The words started my waterworks all over again. Tears fell onto my cheeks and slid past my lips. His understanding was ancient, yet oh-so-accurate even given my extensive knowledge of the world that had passed Before. Some people impacted the world by living; others changed the fate of history by dying. No one escaped those simple truths, and whether by the hand of the gods or by simple chance, my True fell into the latter category.

It was wrong to believe he didn’t matter because he had to die.

I had known. In my heart, I had known when he’d risked his life to save that boy from the crocodile, that I could not rip Caesarion from his country, from his people. From his path. If I could have convinced him to run away, he would not be the man I had fallen in love with.

Caesarion put gentle hands on my cheeks, drawing me onto my toes until his warm mouth pressed against mine, his tongue flicking over my bottom lip to catch my stray tears. “You will not be with me in that world, though, and I find that truth rends my heart.”

My own heart wrenched in two, as though in sympathy for its twin. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was selfish of me to come here. You were happier before you met me.”

“It hurts me further to think you could believe such horrible thoughts. Whether or not I agree with your decision to come does not matter. I would not exchange these days with you.” Caesarion rubbed a smooth thumb across my mouth. “And one day, you will join me in the afterlife, and we will be together. I know it.”

I had never put much stock in what people had believed for so many years about the destination of our consciousness after death. There were still some in Genesis that clung to the idea of unknown realms that could never be discovered or understood by our minds alone, and in that moment, I wanted more than anything to believe.

“How do you know?”

“Return once more, Kaia. I’ll tell you of Osiris and Isis, and you will know, too.”