The dining area would work as a place to safely pass the time until Caesarion woke and prepared to move on for the day. The inn was small and a little smelly—the floors were packed with dirt and straw and the wooden tables wobbled under my elbows. Early morning sunlight warmed the room until sweat coated my skin under the light tunic and skirt, but the smell of food coming from the kitchen kicked my stomach into a grumble. I’d skipped breakfast again.
No one spared me more than one curious glance. The innkeeper’s wife took my order and returned to plop down the food, mumbling something about milking the cows before leaving through the open door. My happiness at being out on an adventure in the fresh air of Earth Before, with no need to return to the Academy anytime soon, warred with my bubbling fear that the chip wouldn’t work. That I’d get caught. That I’d accidentally change something important. I shoved the worries down into my center and locked them away before panic could overtake my excitement. There would be plenty of time for regret later. I wouldn’t waste today.
Another patron joined me, an elderly man who slurped his broth and avoided eye contact, then left a coin on the table and shuffled out before the innkeeper’s wife returned from her morning chores. The denarius I’d swiped off the dresser bought me a bowl of broth and a hunk of bread, which I gnawed for the next hour, every bite ramping up the impressive headache my bio-tat imparted in exchange for my interaction with the past. The pain retreated with a poof when Caesarion appeared at the bottom of the wooden stairs.
The sight of his sleepy midnight eyes squeezed my lungs into oblivion, and even though staring was impolite, I couldn’t stop. When his gaze found mine, the delighted surprise that sprang onto his face pulled my heart into my throat. I could almost hear his thoughts from across the room, could feel the rush of relief that gushed through me at being in the same space as him pour through Caesarion’s blood as well.
Perhaps I’d imagined it and he felt nothing. Perhaps the True Companion calculations were nothing but parlor tricks and games invented to entertain us, to prove that true love wasn’t a necessary factor in human happiness. But right now, staring into his eyes while we both grinned like fools and my knees turned to jelly, my heart believed.
He waved his royal guard out of the room with instructions to saddle the horses. One older man, likely his personal servant, limped toward the kitchen. Caesarion crossed to my side, taking a seat across the table from me. His smile turned a bit shy, very unlike the first time we met, and infected my heart with a strange flutter.
“I dreamed I would see you again, mysterious Kaia. But I did not believe it would be in a ratty inn on the road to nowhere.”
My smile felt wobbly. Words jammed between my head and my mouth refused to be spit out. After a moment of silence he leaned forward, elbows on the table. My body responded almost of its own accord, and I copied his posture until our faces were close enough that we shared breath.
“All roads lead somewhere,” I managed, finally.
He gave me a sad smile. “That is true. Since the Hathors long ago foretold my untimely death, perhaps Tuat or Aaru has always been my destination.”
My bio-tat explained that ancient Egyptians believed the entirety of their lives were laid bare at birth to the Hathors—sort of like witches, or seven ladies akin to the Greek Fates—who predicted the high and low points of every child’s life until death.
“Is death not everyone’s destination?”
“You are beautiful and wise. I have had many years to come to terms with my fate, but after meeting you in the gardens I began to wish for more time.”
“Is that possible?”
“Inshallah,” he whispered.
“Inshallah,” the tattoo forced me to reply.
The phrase filtered through my ears and into my brain. The computer threaded into the base of my skull struggled with an exact translation. The term was a unique one that encapsulated a universe of beliefs into a single word, and the tat finally spit out a close estimation: If God is willing.
“Part of me wishes to demand you explain your reappearance, but the rest does not wish to know—there have been so few mysteries in my life.”
Someone cleared his throat behind me, saving me from having to comment. Caesarion tore his eyes from mine, irritation coloring his cheeks as he looked up.
“It’s time to depart,” the voice said, a whisper of apology beneath the gruff words.
The guards couldn’t treat Caesarion in a proper manner since he was in hiding and on the run. His fine fabrics and kohl-smudged eyes—not to mention his shaved head—all betrayed class, but certainly not to the degree in which Pharaoh would normally tour the countryside.
“I will be out momentarily.” The presence at my back receded and my True Companion’s gaze turned back to mine. “I have never believed that my fate could be escaped, or even that a reason existed to plead with the gods to consider sparing me.”
“Then why leave Alexandria at all?”
“The innate will to live, I suppose. Reconciling with one’s fate is not the same as standing passively by, waiting for a power-hungry man to end my life.” He paused, then reached out a darkly tanned hand to cover mine, adding a throbbing component to the stabbing pain in my temple. “Perhaps meeting you is reason enough to live these last days afforded to me.”
My heart flattened and tried to beat, aching in my chest. Nerve endings zapped a hopeless mass of confused emotions through me until I wanted to kiss him and laugh and sob all at once. His finger wiped the wetness from my cheeks and my skin ignited in its wake even as the painful fingers demanding I pull away reached further down my spine. It was strange, the pleasure of touching him combined with the pain that insisted it was wrong.
My own confusion was reflected in his dusky eyes, smothered in something like wonder. I pressed his hand against my cheek. “I don’t want to think about you dying.”