I’d gone to the infirmary after our sanction meeting and complained of a headache. The medic pulled my recent bio data and recorded the spikes of pain that had recurred in the previous days, ran a few tests to make sure they weren’t something to be concerned about, then typed in an excuse that let me out of my assignments for the remainder of the day.
The medics only had access to the medical readouts, not what had been happening when the headaches spiked, so there was no way for her to know that I’d brought the headaches on myself by disobeying the culture prods from my brain stem tattoo by rolling around in the ancient Egyptian sand with a boy.
I used my wrist comm to send Analeigh a message, letting her know I was fine, but not to worry if she couldn’t find me for a few hours. It was as vague as possible, and if anyone read it, it could very well be a poorly worded message about my planning to nap off my headache.
She was going to be pissed.
The Elders were too smart to not double-check on me in the coming days, and to be honest, I was scared the tech Jonah had given me wouldn’t hold up if they dug too deep.
This would be my last trip to see Caesarion. To say good-bye. As hard as I’d been hanging onto the idea that I could save him, I hadn’t been able to find a shred of information that led me to believe it would be okay. I had run out of time.
My anxiety eased the moment I’d accepted my True’s fate. Caesarion could never have turned his people over to Octavian without a fight, would never have been content living the quiet life of a commoner. It would have felt like abandonment, like cowardice. I should have known the day I watched him risk his life to save a little boy he’d never met, a boy who shouldn’t have mattered to someone as important and high-born as Pharoh, but I hadn’t wanted to see.
The Kaia who had snuck off to Egypt to meet him believed her desire trumped the rules, but the girl he’d helped me understand I needed to be was different. I had gone to Egypt for selfish reasons—to have my moments. I’d had them, but now I understood that I’d been lucky they had not come at a cost. My role as a Historian, the mantle entrusted to me by the Elders and my family and the people of Genesis, had to take precedence. Caesarion would die as he was meant to. And I would let him, as I was meant to.
It was our destiny. If he could be brave enough to face it, so would I.
Running around the ancient world seemed childish now, among other things, while everything I’d ever believed crumbled in my present. But one more visit couldn’t make anything worse. It was kind of like dying twice or saying something was overly wet. You were either dead, or wet. And if they discovered I had technology that shorted out my location tracking, I was royally screwed as it was. If I was going down, it might as well be in a big, splashy way.
The creamy tunic and skirt fit comfortably now, and the emerald green sash contrasted prettily with my bronzed skin. My hair wasn’t in the style of the time, but I was getting better at setting the cuff, and since Caesarion would still be in the south of Egypt, I wouldn’t startle anyone but the guards again.
I set the cuff for a specific latitude and longitude that I’d researched—it should land me on an undeveloped section of the Red Sea coast—and set the year for what would most likely be the last time. A moment later, I was there.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Berenice, Egypt, Earth Before–30 BCE (Before Common Era)
The Egyptian night stunned me with its beauty as though it could persuade me to change my mind. Thirty BCE had never looked more gorgeous to me, and the sea breeze had even managed to bank the suffocating heat. Too many stars to count, far more than we ever saw from Sanchi, sprinkled the black sky. The glow from the moon smudged a ring of midnight blue around the orb that had seemed such a beautiful mystery to my ancestors.
In front of me, craggy foothills rose into rolling mountains. At my back, waves lapped gently at the shore, rolling against the sand with a sighing whisper that unwound the knots in my neck and shoulders. I recognized a funny-shaped piece of driftwood from my walk with Caesarion on my previous visit and smiled, feeling proud. Maybe they wouldn’t want me to be a Historian once all of this came to light, but it didn’t change the fact that I was one.
The feeling of accomplishment straightened my tired spine as I trekked up the beach and then away from the shore, searching for the inn where Thoth had secured lodgings.
My bio-tat pulled up the best available mapping of the surrounding area and located two inns within walking distance. One sat a five-minute walk from the beach, much closer than the second, and I slipped in the front door ten minutes later.
No one stirred, not even Ammon, who slept in the corner by the fire, a tankard of wine tipped over by his sandal. The sight of him simmered resentment in my gut. Even though the most vigilant of guards could not save my True, they were supposed to be trying. Staying awake while on duty would be a good start.
There was one set of stairs and only three rooms lining the hall at the top. The first door revealed a sleeping Thoth, along with the still nameless third guard. The second room sat empty, and in the third, Caesarion slept on a thin mattress while his older manservant paced the floor.
His eyes flew to mine, hand grasping the hilt of his weapon. I held up my hands, and when he recognized me, bright fear lit his gaze.
“You’ve come to kill him,” he whispered, almost choking on the words.
“What? No! Why would I kill him?” I whispered back.
“His time is almost here. You are a dark one, appearing from nowhere and filling Pharaoh’s head with clouds. He doesn’t eat or study, and he hasn’t taken a woman to bed in weeks.”
Pleasure tingled under my skin. I ignored it, intent on remembering my larger purpose. “Tell me about the dark ones.”
“It is best not to speak of such things.”
“Please.”