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Authors: Trisha Wolfe
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with her. Everyone will celebrate and Xarion will marry and become King. We just have to hold the city together until then. Even if thinking of Xarion’s pending marital obligation weighs on my soul, I push forward, my mind focused on my duty.
Xarion spends his days training with weapons and studying old musty scrolls. He’s spoken to me very little, and hasn’t mentioned freeing my binds since that day in the Library. No, that’s not entirely true. He did try once more to coax an answer from me during a dinner where he had nearly a whole wineskin to himself.
Refusing to discuss the matter while he was intoxicated, I ignored his attempts, especially after he began debating the fact that he was drunk. It was infuriating. Can’t he see how difficult it is for me even to consider? Furious, he stormed off, and that was the last we’ve spoken of my binds. He’s been distant since, and it pains me that things have changed so much between us. I wish I could simply jump on his back and tackle him like when we were kids, but instead, I stand off to his side, silent, while he trains to become King.
I can’t fathom what giving him an answer would accomplish, other than making me more aware of the fact I can never be free—I can never truly be with Xarion.
It feels cruel to admit that my feelings run deeper than friendship for him. But if I’m completely honest, they always have. I was foolish to think I could continue to hide my feelings, even from myself. He claims I won’t answer him because I’m afraid. Afraid to consider what I could do with a free life—one not bound to his. But that, for me, is the real fear. I’ve never thought of us apart. It terrifies me. Maybe my binds to him is my crutch.
Regardless, any thoughts or action hinting toward my feelings is dangerous. If the Council ever suspected something physical happened between us—
I can’t allow my thoughts to wander there. Pharaohs do not have romantic relationships with their Kythan slaves. I’d be put to death and Xarion would be ostracized, considered lower than swineherds.
If our situation grows morbid, I’ll ask Fadil to place me under someone else—to be given a new charge. I’ll never be able not to guard Xarion, as I’ll always worry for his safety; it’s in my blood to protect him. But I feel this complication is hindering him more than my guarding him is helping. I pray it doesn’t come to that.
Tonight is the twins’ birthday celebration, and I sit on my balcony, finishing Helios’s present. My hands spark blue, infusing fresh sand with a white-blue current as I transform the matter into liquefied glass. I pull up with my cupped hands, shaping the glass into a tall vase.
“Are you ready?” Phoenix’s voice comes from the inside of my room.
I finish the lip, then set the vase on the stone to cool next to Selene’s purple and silver infused glass bracelet. “I just need to change,” I say, standing and wiping off my hands on my work tunic. “I’ll be ready soon.”
As I pass Phoenix, I note the scowl on his beautiful face. “Why aren’t you with the twins? What’s wrong?”
He brightens, but his happy features are forced. He adjusts his khopesh beneath his sash and straightens his back. “They’re with Lunia and Nuri. I was sent to capture you, and drag you to the theatre if I must.” He smirks. “Oh, please be difficult. It’s been a while since my last romp, and I’m sorely in need of some foreplay.”
And suddenly, I’m less concerned about his feelings. I roll my eyes and close the heavy linen curtain of my dressing room to change. “What is Lunia wearing?”
“The same as always,” he says distractedly, like he’s looking something over in my room. “Something tawdry to lure unsuspecting Shythe to her bed.”
I laugh. “Then I’ll wear my usual.”
“Something prude and ill-fitting to deter unsuspecting Shythe from yours?”
“Pig,” I mutter, and hear his dark laugh.
“Star?”
“Yes,
Xarion spends his days training with weapons and studying old musty scrolls. He’s spoken to me very little, and hasn’t mentioned freeing my binds since that day in the Library. No, that’s not entirely true. He did try once more to coax an answer from me during a dinner where he had nearly a whole wineskin to himself.
Refusing to discuss the matter while he was intoxicated, I ignored his attempts, especially after he began debating the fact that he was drunk. It was infuriating. Can’t he see how difficult it is for me even to consider? Furious, he stormed off, and that was the last we’ve spoken of my binds. He’s been distant since, and it pains me that things have changed so much between us. I wish I could simply jump on his back and tackle him like when we were kids, but instead, I stand off to his side, silent, while he trains to become King.
I can’t fathom what giving him an answer would accomplish, other than making me more aware of the fact I can never be free—I can never truly be with Xarion.
It feels cruel to admit that my feelings run deeper than friendship for him. But if I’m completely honest, they always have. I was foolish to think I could continue to hide my feelings, even from myself. He claims I won’t answer him because I’m afraid. Afraid to consider what I could do with a free life—one not bound to his. But that, for me, is the real fear. I’ve never thought of us apart. It terrifies me. Maybe my binds to him is my crutch.
Regardless, any thoughts or action hinting toward my feelings is dangerous. If the Council ever suspected something physical happened between us—
I can’t allow my thoughts to wander there. Pharaohs do not have romantic relationships with their Kythan slaves. I’d be put to death and Xarion would be ostracized, considered lower than swineherds.
If our situation grows morbid, I’ll ask Fadil to place me under someone else—to be given a new charge. I’ll never be able not to guard Xarion, as I’ll always worry for his safety; it’s in my blood to protect him. But I feel this complication is hindering him more than my guarding him is helping. I pray it doesn’t come to that.
Tonight is the twins’ birthday celebration, and I sit on my balcony, finishing Helios’s present. My hands spark blue, infusing fresh sand with a white-blue current as I transform the matter into liquefied glass. I pull up with my cupped hands, shaping the glass into a tall vase.
“Are you ready?” Phoenix’s voice comes from the inside of my room.
I finish the lip, then set the vase on the stone to cool next to Selene’s purple and silver infused glass bracelet. “I just need to change,” I say, standing and wiping off my hands on my work tunic. “I’ll be ready soon.”
As I pass Phoenix, I note the scowl on his beautiful face. “Why aren’t you with the twins? What’s wrong?”
He brightens, but his happy features are forced. He adjusts his khopesh beneath his sash and straightens his back. “They’re with Lunia and Nuri. I was sent to capture you, and drag you to the theatre if I must.” He smirks. “Oh, please be difficult. It’s been a while since my last romp, and I’m sorely in need of some foreplay.”
And suddenly, I’m less concerned about his feelings. I roll my eyes and close the heavy linen curtain of my dressing room to change. “What is Lunia wearing?”
“The same as always,” he says distractedly, like he’s looking something over in my room. “Something tawdry to lure unsuspecting Shythe to her bed.”
I laugh. “Then I’ll wear my usual.”
“Something prude and ill-fitting to deter unsuspecting Shythe from yours?”
“Pig,” I mutter, and hear his dark laugh.
“Star?”
“Yes,
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