“That gives me hope.”
“For what?” Our breath mingled, our faces hovering inches apart, begging to connect. My skin prickled, hairs standing on end as though reaching for him. Heat swam through my blood, simmering closer to a boil.
“That I’ll get to kiss you again.”
I had fallen so far into his gaze that the sight of a young girl running through the reeds, panic twisting her dark features, seemed at first as out of place as me. Then Caesarion flew to his feet at her frantic words, deciphering the local dialect and taking off with a warning shout.
His guards dropped what they were doing and followed Caesarion through the reeds. I raced after them, responding to the girl’s desperate plea for help, and skidded to a halt at the horrible scene fifty or sixty yards down the riverbank. A woman lay on the shore, her arm torn off at the elbow and her blood pumping into the matted, wet grass. A little boy floundered in the water, choking and sputtering, trying desperately to get to the opposite bank as a crocodile stalked his every move, water sluicing around its ugly snout. The woman sobbed weakly, her eyes on the child even as the light inside her dimmed.
Caesarion barked orders at one of the guards, who dropped to his knees beside the woman and tied a scarf tight around her bicep. The data flashing in front of my eyes said it wouldn’t be enough, that she’d lost too much blood. Others gathered, faces drawn with concern, as my True splashed into the water toward the crocodile.
He had the advantage of taking the animal by surprise, but it didn’t stop my heart from lurching sideways at the sight of its teeth. My hand grasped the locket at my neck, air burning in my lungs as Caesarion raised a sword and drove it straight down through the reptile’s head.
It thrashed and rolled, smacking Caesarion hard with its powerful tail. He flew sideways and went under, but the wound he’d inflicted seemed to confuse or frighten the croc enough that it floated away, ribbons of red trailing over the frothing water in its path. Caesarion righted himself and reached for the tiny child, who clung to his neck as they waded back toward the bank.
I looked down to see that the woman had died, but the girl who had run for help embraced the boy. They both looked up at my True with eyes filled with gratitude and a hero’s worship.
Pride swished through me. Underneath it ran a certainty, a knowledge, that filled me with sorrow, but in the midst of this wonderful day, I couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Thirteen
“I have to leave, Caesarion,” I whispered over the racket in the inn where we’d stopped for supper.
He turned around in his wooden chair, confusion and something akin to panic tightening his cheeks. “No. It’s late. Where will you go?”
My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but this time I let the bio-tat have its way with propriety. The pain meds had worn off, and if Caesarion and I had the chance to really be alone again it was going to inflict a horrible headache. Not horrible enough to stop me, but still.
“Would you come outside with me? I need to speak with you privately before I go.”
The request in itself raised eyebrows up and down the table, and the round-faced, too loud innkeeper even shut his trap to stare. Caesarion’s guards kept their gazes averted, perhaps grown accustomed to the strange rhythm of our relationship, perhaps just accustomed to Pharaoh doing what he liked.
The largest guard radiated distrust and anger. He did not like me here, and if it mattered in the grand scheme of things, he would have scared me. Maybe he should frighten me more—there were no rules, physical or otherwise, that prevented a Historian from dying within the past. I was fully here, and vulnerable. At the mercy of this world, not mine.
I cast the burly man a wary glance while Caesarion unfolded his lanky frame from the short table. He gave his manservant a small shake of the head before taking my hand and pulling me outside. I didn’t stop on the other side of the door, but took the lead, tugging him into the sagging barn to the left of the main building.
A few lanterns lit the interior of the rickety wooden building. It smelled of animals and hay, of spicy earth and manure. Between the lanterns, the last beams of setting sun pierced the cracks in the ancient wood, combining with the warmth spilling through my body and casting the whole moment in a surreal glow.
“Why must you leave, Kaia? We don’t have long. I had hoped we would spend these days together. I promise to behave.” His voice was soft, coaxing.
In another lifetime, another past or present or future, I would have done anything he’d asked. And I wouldn’t have wanted him to behave.
“Do you think I’m insane? Not right?” I tapped my head, unsure if the translation came through correctly when a Greek word that wouldn’t quite fit into English fell from my lips.
He frowned and reached out, setting his hands on my hips. His long fingers wound around my back, pressing lightly through the thin fabric and weakening my knees. This molecular compatibility thing wreaked havoc on my basic motor function. And with keeping down dinner.
“I do not know what to think of you, Kaia. You are clearly something different. The things you say, they do not seem possible. And yet …”
“And yet?” I pressed.
“And yet they feel not only possible, but true. If a man cannot trust one’s heart, then what can he trust?”
My chest filled with happiness and I grinned up at him, struggling to breathe. “Your heart says you can trust me?”
“My heart seems to know you, even if I do not. Yet.”