Except, based on Minnie’s reflection, it seemed as though altering previous outcomes had been a consideration at one time.
Caesarion turned his head to look at me, his blue eyes big and full of wonder. “I never expected to know love, Kaia. I have known pleasure, and my sister Selene is a sweet child who will make a fine wife, but love … It is a thing of myth, reserved for the gods.”
I reached out and slid my fingers between his, locking our hands together on the beach between us. “Until now.”
“Yes, my love. Until now.”
“I understand why the guards think me a sihr, but what did they mean by a dark one? I’ve never heard that term before tonight.”
“There are ancient stories of people dressed in black, who appear out of thin air and murder without touching. Their victims simply collapse, turned to liquid on the inside, and the dark ones disappear in the same fashion as, well … as you do. It is superstition, nothing more.”
My heart rattled against my ribs. It didn’t sound like nothing to me. It sounded like Oz had been popping up other places with his Gavreau waver, and perhaps doing more than knocking over pretty girls. How many times had he traveled, intent on changing one thing or another? It had to have been more than once to start the kind of association the guards had made between my appearance and death.
“What is it? You are as white as the stars, Kaia.”
Words snagged in my throat, partially because of the bio-tat, but more because as soon as I brought up the trouble at home, this time was no longer only ours.
“Please, tell me. Perhaps I can help. I know I don’t look it, but I can be quite smart.”
That made me laugh, and the lump in my throat dissolved. “I think you look clever.”
“And handsome?”
“Of course. And handsome.”
He waited, a soft thumb brushing the back of my hand. My muscles relaxed, one at a time, and I knew it was time to ask for his help. It was the reason I’d come back—one of them—and time ran short. “There’s a boy.”
“I do not like the sound of that.”
“Not in that way, trust me.” I gave him a smile. “Like I told you, we have strict rules about traveling through time.”
“The ones you’re breaking here with me.”
“Well, yes. This boy, he’s breaking them, too, but I don’t know why. I followed him the other day and he interfered with an important development that afterward disappeared from history. I don’t know why, or if he’s working alone, or how he can be sure his actions won’t have terrible consequences. It could erase more things in the future.”
Silence hung between us for several minutes. Misery brushed the edges of my happiness, not as potent or desperate as it had been during my questioning with the Elders, but still there. Waiting.
Caesarion stared out across the Red Sea, his features thoughtful, and when he faced me again, his gaze looked reproachful. “How do you know talking with me will not erase the future?”
“I guess I don’t, not for sure. Except we haven’t altered your destiny, or Octavian’s, or Rome’s. Merely the fact that you met a strange girl on your journey, and now your guards have their own dark one tale to tell.”
“But this boy, he changed something you know is important.” I nodded, heartsick, and he continued. “How do you know what the consequences will be?”
“I don’t. We can’t predict the future based on an altered past.”
“Explain.”
“Well … let’s say you decided not to return to Alexandria. There are too many trajectories that could result from that one different decision for our sciences to predict the eventual outcomes. It could change nothing in the larger scope, or it could change everything. It would depend on the choices you made going forward—like, would you try to take back Egypt for your family, or would you be content to leave, to settle in Judea or another province and live your life as a commoner? Would Octavian find you anyway? It’s … too big. We can’t do it. It’s why we don’t change anything.” I sucked in a breath. “At least, that’s what I’ve always believed.”
“But now you do not. Because of this boy.”
“Yes. He’s breaking rules, but Oz isn’t dumb or reckless.” Neither was my brother, but one complication at a time.
We fell silent again, nothing but the sound of the waves sucking at the shore and our quiet, mingled breaths interrupting the night. I felt hesitation from my True, as though for the first time since we’d met he seemed unwilling to be frank.
The look in his eyes reproached me. “I think you have been irresponsible, Kaia. Coming to me. Telling me of the things that will be without knowing what could be affected.”
It stunned me, his admonishment. The tiniest spark of fear ignited in my gut and I wondered if my trust had been misplaced. If he wasn’t as okay with the hand he’d been dealt now that I’d presented him with options. “What do you mean?”
“You, like this boy, have taken unnecessary chances. You’ve been given a gift and in return, accepted a responsibility. We are not so different, you and I. I was born a Ptolemy, my tiny shoulders burdened by the lives of others. My mother died for them, and I will do the same.”
My worry over his betrayal dissolved into anger. If I dug beneath it, I’d find embarrassment and guilt, but I wasn’t ready to go there. “So, you’re sorry I came to find you,” I snapped.
“I can’t be sorry for that. I’m simply saying that people like you and me cannot forgo the best interests of many in order to please only ourselves. No matter our connection, your duty is to your people. It’s to the future. It’s not to me.” His eyes held onto mine, insisting I understand.
“You want to die for duty rather than live for yourself? You want me to go home and pretend we never met, pretend there isn’t a chance we could save you?”
“What is written will come to pass, Kaia. If nothing else results from our time together, I hope you will remember that no matter where your heart lies, the promises you have made your people take precedence. It’s not your job to save me if it is not my destiny to live.”
My brain struggled with my heart, trying hard to ease my anger. He was right. I knew coming here was wrong, that telling him about the future could have consequences I couldn’t see, but I’d done it anyway. It had been selfish. Here with Caesarion, though, I still struggled to see things his way. I wanted to beat my fists into his chest and tell him his noble actions, the way he stood by his people, wouldn’t mean anything at all. Not to anyone. Not in the long run.
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.”