Read Astarte's Wrath for Free Online

sick Lunia on you.” I pull my dress up farther and glare.
    He laughs again and shuts my door. “I’ll turn around.” He does so, and I scowl at his sculpted back.
    Phoenix bears resemblance to the wall paintings and tapestries more than any Kythan I know. A full Narcolym, he’s all hard muscle and smooth, alabaster skin. Named after the fire bird of the sun god Ra who is reborn from its own ashes, Phoenix is just as beautiful, and his personality just as colorful.
    The women adore him.
    Luckily, I’ve known him forever, and have seen him play in mud and eat his own snot. I’m not swayed as easily by his practiced charms.
    “I’m clothed,” I say, and Phoenix turns around to admire my saffron linen gown. The front of the skirt stops above my knees, while the back pools around my ankles. The loosely crossed top is clasped together over one shoulder by a golden lotus fibula.
    “I should say so.” He slinks up to me and winks. “Lunia did well. You almost look like a lady.”
    Ignoring his sarcasm, as I’m used to it, I worry my lip with my finger. Even if I hadn’t promised Xarion not to speak of the occurrence in the desert, I’m bound to it by his command. But I still want to know Phoenix’s thoughts on the greater matter. “Have you heard?”
    He nods, his dark hair grazes his bare shoulders. “Next time there’s a threat, you can sit for the brats, and I’ll lay waste to those disappearing banshees.”
    “Your charges are not brats,” I say. “And it was no easy feat, Phoenix. I’ve never faced anything like these Leymak. We didn’t win, just escaped.” I look away, to the sand just beyond the high walls of the city.
    “What you did, with the barrier,” Phoenix says, and I look at him, “that was something. Thank the gods you’re all right”—his lips curl into a slick smile—“and that you learned from the best.” He flexes his biceps, and I laugh.
    “Yes, I thought to myself, ‘how does Phoenix escape his mistresses after a busy night?’ And boom! The idea hit me like a glass wall.” I smile.
    He scowls playfully. “Your virgin is showing.”
    I toss a weak bolt of Charge his way and he ignites his forearm and deflects it, chuckling. “Pig,” I say.
    Phoenix may make light of the situation, but I can see beneath his confident air that he was truly worried. But the fact that he’s able to joke means he doesn’t believe the Leymak are a true threat. It’s what I needed to hear from him. If there was any cause to be alarmed, he’d be hatching a grand escape plan for our masters. It’s just how his mind works.
    I turn toward my table and skim my fingers over the cedar box that holds jewelry I rarely have reason to wear. My mother’s heirlooms. “Let me finish dressing, then we can go together to escort Xarion to the procession.”
    He sighs and settles down on my bed, lying back with his pale arms tucked behind his head. As I slip the bangles on to my arm, Phoenix says, “I am relieved you’re all right.”
    I hear the sincerity in his tone, and its warmth washes over me. He’s my family, too.
    “I’d not leave you here to take care of yourself,” I say, glancing up. “You’d be in trouble.”
    His eyebrows hike. “Oh, I plan on getting into much trouble tonight. And I’m taking you down with me.”

 
    Chapter Five

     
    T here is a quiet fear churning through the cool night air of Alexandria. It hums just below the clattering, pulsing chaos of the Royal Quarter. It festers, decaying away at the citizens, like the dead buried beneath the streets and gardens; the catacombs.
    Alexandria is dressed for the Sekhmet feast: blood reds; deep lavenders; dusty roses. All in celebration of life and love to soothe Sekhmet. It’s her wrath that must be sated in order for the Nile to rise, and the ground to bear a bountiful harvest.
    Candra’s taunt of my name’s origin comes to mind, as Astarte was likened to the war goddess Sekhmet. My mother claimed she chose Astarte