Queen of Ashes (9 page)

I knew he had sent that butterfly for me. I entered the palace and followed it upstairs and down a long hall. Finally, it landed on a door. I opened it without knocking, knowing he had already invited me in.

At first Laila can't make out what is in the room because there is only one oil lamp lit and its glow is hazy. But then she sees Cassandra on the rumpled bed, and her eyes no longer brim with divine knowledge but are clouded by wine and something else. She sits up, breaking free from the powerful arms of the naked man who lies beside her.

Riel.

Brehan's face is stunned. His eyes blaze. His mouth parts. An animal howl of rage explodes from him, and it seems his scream catches the room on fire. Everything burns.

Everything.

Laila is on the street now, surrounded by smoke and flames, showers of ash and sparks, and people running. She hears the roar of fire as if it were a storm. Up ahead she sees metal gleaming in the flames of the burning buildings: the bronze helmets, breastplates and swords of Greek soldiers. The Trojan civilians escaping the fire run right toward them, and the soldiers grab them and drag them away screaming.

When I came to my right mind, I had one thought. Cassandra. Where was Cassandra? I fought my way against the panicked crowds back toward the palace on the citadel, through the fire and fallen buildings, past Greek soldiers who tried to capture me. If she was alive, no matter how injured, I knew that I could heal her, bring her back.

Laila sees him running into the palace, searching in the smoke for the main staircase. He finds it—hidden beneath burning roof beams. He turns, looking for another way upstairs. Laila hears a shuddering groan, the death moan, she knows, of a proud and ancient edifice. Brehan sprints back to the door and out into the night just as the entire building collapses in a heap of stone and flame.

If Cassandra had somehow made it out of that room alive, as I had, she was most certainly dead now. And I had killed her.
Laila stares in horror at the destruction—a mountain of stone, toppled columns and broken statues in a smoking, fiery heap.

Afterward, everyone assumed it was the Greeks who had set Troy ablaze. Only I—and Riel—knew the truth. The Greeks wanted to control the rich, famous city of Troy. Not destroy it. They wanted to sell the inhabitants to the slave traders waiting out beyond the walls, not have so many killed in the inferno. They wanted to plunder the houses and temples, bringing home rich booty, not burn everything to ashes. When it was destroyed, all the motley nationalities that made up the Greek army blamed each other for setting it on fire. The Athenians blamed the Spartans, the Boetians said it was the Argives. But no Greek soldier burned Troy.

I did.

It is daylight now, and Laila sees smoke rise from the ruined city even as a dismal rain falls. Two men stand on a field overlooking a beach full of Trojan prisoners huddled in chains. Riel puts his hands on Brehan's shoulders, speaking words of comfort to him.

Some of Riel's words are drowned out by the hissing of the rain and the sobs of the captives.
She begged me to... She knew the end was coming... She said she would contact the gods and tell me how we can return if I would afterward oblige her... She hated the voices. You know she did.

Brehan hangs his head in despair as Riel puts his arm around him and leads him down the beach.
I should have taken away her powers when she asked me to
, his voice now intones
. I should have taken her away from the city weeks before it met its doom. Even after I found them in bed, if I hadn't lost my temper we all could have escaped the Greeks. I bore so much responsibility for the tragedy that I forgave Riel, my brother. It was just the two of us, you see, as all our mortal friends grew old and died. We were alone, so we had to be together.

The rain stops, but the ruins of Troy still smoke.
Don't you want to know her prophecy?
Riel asks. Brehan shakes his head.

You must know. It is this:

In the womb of the night

Twin stars struggle to shine their light.

The moon with great joy will blot out the sun.

When the girl kills the boy and the world comes undone.

What does it mean?
Brehan asks, rubbing his forehead wearily.
It makes no sense
.

We will ask sorcerers and seers the world over,
Riel replies.

He never found out what it meant, though. I parted from him five years ago, tired of his selfishness and cruelty toward mortals. But now he has found me because he needs me for a ritual he discovered in Babylon for lost gods to regain their divinity. But I don't want it anymore. Laila, I want to stay here with you. To help your people, if you marry Amosis. To marry you, if you will have me.

For some reason, Laila can't inhale. Her lungs are bursting. She opens her eyes and sees murkiness and tangled roots. She's underwater. Panicking, she fights her way up through the lotus plants into sunlight and gulps in air.
Calmer now, she looks around. Somehow without realizing it, during Brehan's story she has slipped into the pool and now the water comes up to her chest. Brehan is in the water beside her, looking at her intently.

“You no longer wish to be a god?” she asks in a very small voice.

“Believe me,” he says sadly. “There is no joy in being a god. Even the gods are still, after all, at the mercy of mortals, not the other way around.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and caresses it with his thumb. “Take me, for example. I must live forever with the torture of never knowing your love.”

“Surely it is worse for me,” Laila whispers, her heart skipping a beat. “I must die a mortal, never knowing yours.”

His eyes burn with the fire of love and longing. Then she knows with a certainty beyond words that Brehan loves her and probably always has since he first saw her on the barge, just as he told her. He kisses her, gently at first, and she sinks into him and pulls him toward her. In the water it is as if they have no clothes on at all; she can feel his hard muscles against her chest. An incredible joy emanates from him, a joy bursting with burgeoning life and green leaves, fresh water and sunshine, rich harvest and black earth. It envelopes them both.

Time dissolves into nothingness, and they hold each other in the perfection of eternity. They are still in the pond, kissing, when they hear the cries of joy in the street.

Suddenly, Laila knows what has happened. The withered fields have drunk in life from their love, breathed in health from their joy and unfolded radiant green leaves in sheer delight.

The harvest is saved.

Chapter Nine

LAILA WAKES SLOWLY, rising from a warm place of perfect peace to the sensation of Brehan holding her tightly against him. Her back is against his chest, his legs are tucked behind her knees. Laila smiles. It is a position that allows the greatest amount of skin against skin, a fusion of flesh and heartbeat and scent.

When they returned from the fields, marveling at the miracle that Brehan had caused without even trying to, they went straight to Laila's rooms and bolted the door behind them. After a time, the twins knocked, and Laila sent them away with instructions to bring dinner and leave. It was a night of little sleep, but of much exploration, tenderness and intense crescendos of passion interspersed by long stories.

She opens her eyes. Her bedroom glows with the rose-gold light of a brightening dawn streaming in through slatted shutters. Birdsong in the royal garden fills the air. But it's more than just birdsong. The very air sings with love. He runs his hand over her arm and nuzzles her neck as she sighs and stirs.

She turns over to face him, kicking at the knotted sheets, and immediately misses the connection of her skin with his, the warmth of it, the comfort. His eyes are bright and alert, and a smile creases his face. She runs long fingers through his tousled hair.

“So,” she says in a throaty voice, “when do you think we should get married?”

“Before breakfast,” he says, stroking her shoulder. “Definitely, before breakfast.”

She laughs. “How about tomorrow at the Temple of Ptah? A private ceremony like last time. But this time I will chain your wrist to mine to make sure there is no mishap before you get there.” His hand moves to her face, tracing her features slowly—forehead, eyes, nose, mouth. “Tomorrow, then,” he whispers. “You will have to deal with your other admirers before we proclaim the fact that we are married. Amosis, for instance. Which I almost regret. You know, I really liked him.”

Laila groans and flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “I hate hurting his feelings,” she says. “He's such a nice man and seemed to care about me so much. I expect he will come calling soon.”

“He will be disappointed, certainly,” Brehan agrees. “But he will understand that you love someone else. It's Riel I'm worried about.”

Laila shivers. She has a feeling Riel is not idle. He is waiting. Watching. Plotting something.

“Unlike Amosis,” Brehan continues, “my brother doesn't take losing very well.”

Laila grunts and sits up, massaging her scalp. “He doesn't love me. He was just using me to get at you.”

“True,” Brehan replies, sitting up and stroking her back. “It's me he wants. His gateway back to godhood. His eternal companion. He won't like losing me to you.”

“Should you tell him or should I?” she asks.

“Definitely, me. I'll do it first thing.”

“All right. I'll send a message to Amosis asking him to come and see me later today. I should tell him personally. He is a good man, and I would like us stay friends.”

She springs out of bed, throws on a robe and opens the shutters wide, her arms outstretched in exultation. Then she leans out the window, inhaling the cool, clean morning air.

“And now, my love,” she says, turning toward him with a wide grin, “I am late greeting Ra, so I will have to hurry. Let us meet later. There will be much to discuss.”

* * *

A cooling Nile breeze wafts over Laila as she sits on her balcony overlooking the main palace garden. Palm trees cast long shadows on the gravel paths as the late-afternoon sun floods the garden with soft golden light. A boy rakes leaves as courtiers wander back to their own apartments for dinner. Two girls on a bench chatter and giggle, probably about boys.

Leaning on the stone railing, Laila plays with the gold beads in her wig of a thousand black braids. The twins have outdone themselves in making her beautiful. Soon, Amosis will come to seek her hand, and she must tell him she has chosen Brehan instead. She will be happy when this interview is over.

A footstep causes her to turn around. Brehan stands next to her, grinning. “Good evening, Princess,” he says.

“Good evening.” Her heart beats faster as she takes in the breadth and height and beauty of him. He wears a blazing white toga and a wide Egyptian faience collar.

He takes her hands in his and she inhales his intoxicating scent. “Come with me to the Temple of Horus so I can finally give you those blue lotuses. I meant to last night when we were in the pond, but, well, we got carried away.”

Laila struggles against the urge to melt right into his arms. “But Lord Amosis is coming soon,” she says, forcing herself to stand straight.

“We will be back before then.”

Laila shakes her head and smiles. “I can't say no to you.”

* * *

Priests in yellow kilts and leopard-skin tops are sweeping the temple grounds to mark the end of the day when Laila and Brehan enter. Acolytes carry trays of food and wine into the sanctuary as offerings to the falcon-headed statue of Horus to keep him satisfied all night.

“Did you tell Riel?” Laila asks as they dodge a priest holding garlands of flowers.

He shakes his head, and a look of concern crosses his face. “I went by there twice, but his servant said he wasn't in.”

“Are you afraid of how he will respond?” Laila asks as they cross a brightly painted courtyard.

Brehan considers. “Yes, I think for the first time ever I am afraid of him. I know Riel loves me—well, as much as he can love anyone other than himself. And he would never hurt me—seriously, that is—but I worry about what he would do to you, Laila, a mortal. I thought about it all day. And then I realized what I needed to do. It is the perfect solution.”

“What?”

He smiles. “I will tell you over dinner. For now, let us enjoy the peace and beauty of this place.”

The air is a soft gold as they enter the Lotus Garden, the rectangular pool the dark blue of Bactrian lapis lazuli. Each of the thick pillars surrounding the garden bears a capital in the shape of a falcon's head and is painted with the god's brown bare-chested body in a white kilt.

“I've always found your gods unsettling with their strange animal heads,” he says, staring at them. “Wouldn't it be more comforting to gaze at a statue of a god wholly human in aspect, with wisdom and compassion carved in its face?”

“No,” Laila says. “To us, that wouldn't be a god at all. It would be a human.”

He bends over the water and chooses a blue lotus, snapping its starchy stalk. “For you, my love, the flower of love. From a former god, wholly human in aspect. Or do you wish I had a falcon head?”

Laila takes the flower and smiles. “Now, that would be an interesting...” she begins.

“He's coming,” Brehan says, suddenly alert, his voice tense.

A shudder runs up her spine as she looks around in alarm. “Who?” she asks. But she knows who.

“Riel. He's coming. I don't want him to see you.” He pulls her hard by the arm, nearly dragging her away from the pool. “Come over here, next to this column.”

“What?”

Brehan waves his hand over the thick red-gold limestone column and with a crunching sound a crevasse appears. “Step inside, my love. I will make sure you can see and hear. But be quiet! He mustn't know you're here.”

Laila has to turn sideways to enter the dark space. There is just enough room for her to turn around. Brehan waves his hand and the opening seals up, leaving two small holes at eye level.

No sooner is she inside than she hears an arch voice. “So, brother, I hear you came to my house today. Twice.”

Laila feels a spike of fear in her armpits and a shiver on the back of her neck. For a moment she wants to curl up into a ball. But she presses her face against the eyeholes and watches Riel stride into view.

“Ah, there you are,” Brehan says affably, walking casually away from the column toward the pond. “Yes, I wanted to tell you that I decided I will go with you to the fountain. If it means so much to you to regain your divinity, I will not stand in your way. Together we will see if this Babylonian ritual works.”

He's leaving her? When? Laila's heart sinks. But then she realizes it's the only way for Brehan to placate his dangerous brother.

Riel's face lights up. He smiles broadly and claps Brehan on the shoulder. “I knew you would see reason!” he says. “We will leave tomorrow. As I told you last time we spoke, the Babylonian tablets say we must return to the place where we lost our godhead, Brehan. But what I didn't tell you is that we must mingle our blood with the waters we unleashed. That can mean only one thing—the Fountain of Youth.”

“But that doesn't make sense. We destroyed it,” Brehan says impatiently. “Or don't you remember?”

“Oh yes, I remember. I remember that it was your idea to dry it up in a stupid effort to save the humans it was annihilating. But for all it cost us, Brehan, we didn't destroy it entirely.”

Brehan frowns. “What do you mean? There was only dust left in that spring. We made sure.”

Riel shakes his head and said, “After I read the prophecy, I knew there had to be some trace of the fountain left. I went to the Eastern Mountains, followed the trail of rumors and death and found it. Our blasts diverted the tiny trickle that was left of the spring. It now moistens the walls of a nearby cave.”

Laila can't quite follow the conversation and begins to feel trapped in the column, as if she is locked inside a stone sarcophagus. The weight of the blocks encasing her, and the weight they support, is unbearable, as if it were pushing directly against her shoulders. A cloying smell of damp and stone crawls up her nose. She rubs her face, then peers out the holes again.

Brehan looks as if he will slump to the ground. “After all that, after all we lost, we did not succeed, then.”

“No,” Riel says, hands clasped behind his back, pacing around his brother. “We merely slowed the inevitable. Those who drink of the water still transform into unspeakable monsters knowing one thing and one thing only—insatiable hunger.”

“But there is no more divine flesh, other than us,” Brehan points out irritably. “The Spirit Eaters devoured those gods and goddesses who didn't flee the confines of the earth. And we have lost our true divinity, as you never cease to point out.”

Riel gives him a one-sided smile. “But there are still Pegasi in those mountains, and centaurs. Sorcerers and oracles and those of our own bloodline would also satisfy them. And when these aren't available, there are farmers. Shepherds. Travelers. And their livestock.”

Brehan hangs his head in defeat.

“We don't have the power to try to destroy it again,” he says. “It was all for nothing, then.”

“For nothing,” Riel agrees. “But now you will make it up to me and we will rejoin the gods who remain. We will leave here tomorrow.”

Brehan puts up a hand. “Not so fast, brother. Laila and I have decided to marry. Within the next few days, I think. After that you and I can leave.”

Laila's relief mixes with her uncertainty. If Brehan goes off with Riel after the wedding, will he ever return? Will Riel ever let him?

Riel's handsome face curls up into a sneer. “Marry?” he asks. “You can't marry her. If the ritual works and you choose to stay on this earth, you could rule your own kingdom with divine powers, a huge kingdom, not this...” He gestures dismissively. “...this pitiful heap of sand flies and stone on loan from Pharaoh in Memphis. And if the ritual doesn't work, well, you and I will have to keep searching.”

Brehan puts a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Riel, you are not my parent. I am not a child. I will no longer live like this, obeying your commands. And I'm not running away from you again. You and I will make an agreement, right now. I will help you get your godhead back, but in return you must allow me to live my own life. Here. As Laila's husband. If the ritual works and I am fully a god again, I will use my powers to help her and her people. If it doesn't work, I will return here and still help her as best I can. You can keep looking to return to the gods or settle down somewhere and lord it over a kingdom, whatever you want.”

Laila relaxes. Yes, it is the perfect solution. Everyone gets what they want.

But Riel pushes the hand off his shoulder. “A nice idea,” he scoffs. “But it won't work.”

“Of course, it will work,” Brehan says, with a baffled look. “Why wouldn't it?”

“Because,” Riel says, crinkling his brow, “in your scenario I don't get what
I
want. That little plan of yours would result in...”

He pauses, staring at the ground. “My death,” he says so quietly Laila isn't sure she heard correctly.

“Your death?” Brehan asks. “What are you talking about?”

“That night, Troy's last night, before I took her to bed, Cassandra prophesied for me,” Riel says, turning the full force of his gaze on his brother.

“I know that.”

“But I didn't tell you
all
the prophecy. There is another part. She told me that one of your descendants will cause my death if I don't regain my immortality first. She told me that to ensure my safety, I must kill you. But I knew I couldn't do that. I knew that when the Greeks attacked, you would find her and escape together. And your child might grow up to kill me. So, you see, she had to die. I was hoping you would kill her in your rage at finding us together.”

“That was the real reason you sent the butterfly to lead me there?” Brehan asks. “You wanted me to kill her?”

Riel chuckles. “Of course. But you didn't. True, your rage set fire to the room as you raced out, but that was all. She tried to follow you. I...stopped her from doing that. Now you understand why I had to.”

“
You
killed her?” Brehan's voice has risen to something close to a roar. Inside the column, Laila can feel his pain and horror as if it were her own.