“You are beautiful and wise. I have had many years to come to terms with my fate, but after meeting you in the gardens I began to wish for more time.”

“Is that possible?”

“Inshallah,” he whispered.

“Inshallah,” the tattoo forced me to reply.

The phrase filtered through my ears and into my brain. The computer threaded into the base of my skull struggled with an exact translation. The term was a unique one that encapsulated a universe of beliefs into a single word, and the tat finally spit out a close estimation: If God is willing.

“Part of me wishes to demand you explain your reappearance, but the rest does not wish to know—there have been so few mysteries in my life.”

Someone cleared his throat behind me, saving me from having to comment. Caesarion tore his eyes from mine, irritation coloring his cheeks as he looked up.

“It’s time to depart,” the voice said, a whisper of apology beneath the gruff words.

The guards couldn’t treat Caesarion in a proper manner since he was in hiding and on the run. His fine fabrics and kohl-smudged eyes—not to mention his shaved head—all betrayed class, but certainly not to the degree in which Pharaoh would normally tour the countryside.

“I will be out momentarily.” The presence at my back receded and my True Companion’s gaze turned back to mine. “I have never believed that my fate could be escaped, or even that a reason existed to plead with the gods to consider sparing me.”

“Then why leave Alexandria at all?”

“The innate will to live, I suppose. Reconciling with one’s fate is not the same as standing passively by, waiting for a power-hungry man to end my life.” He paused, then reached out a darkly tanned hand to cover mine, adding a throbbing component to the stabbing pain in my temple. “Perhaps meeting you is reason enough to live these last days afforded to me.”

My heart flattened and tried to beat, aching in my chest. Nerve endings zapped a hopeless mass of confused emotions through me until I wanted to kiss him and laugh and sob all at once. His finger wiped the wetness from my cheeks and my skin ignited in its wake even as the painful fingers demanding I pull away reached further down my spine. It was strange, the pleasure of touching him combined with the pain that insisted it was wrong.

My own confusion was reflected in his dusky eyes, smothered in something like wonder. I pressed his hand against my cheek. “I don’t want to think about you dying.”

His gaze sharpened, probing mine for answers to questions he must have about my identity, about how I’d managed to find him here in this out-of-the-way place. “You do not seem surprised to learn of my fate.”

“I’m not,” I said simply. If he demanded an explanation I would be tempted to provide it, no matter that telling people in the past about the future was strictly forbidden. Putting lies between us left a bad taste in my mouth, but in the end, he saved me by not asking.

“I would like to stay and talk with you, but I must away, I’m afraid.” He dropped his hand from my cheek and stood.

“Could I travel with you? I can’t … I couldn’t stay much past nightfall, but I, too, like the idea of more time.”

“It is not appropriate for a lady of your station.”

His slight frown gave him a serious appearance, like a little boy who thought he was being tricked into doing something he shouldn’t. After his mistake regarding the reason for my presence in the gardens, I couldn’t blame him, but couldn’t suppress a giggle, either. “There is much you don’t know about me, Caesarion, but we can start with the fact that I am unconcerned with what others might think of our friendship.”

“Very well. I trust you can ride a horse.”

Well, hell.

*

My bio-tat struggled more than a little with forcing my limbs to ride a horse. The knowledge was there but felt rudimentary and awkward, as though programmed haphazardly on the off chance a Historian might need to mount a horse. It had been six hours since we left the inn just south of Cairo and my legs had numbed from hip to toe. They felt permanently bowed, and when Caesarion helped me down for a rest stop, my trek to the banks of a Nile tributary could have only been described as a waddle.

Fantastic. I finally got to spend a day with Caesarion and not only did I smell like horse, I had been reduced to walking like a penguin. Sexy.

The more we talked, and the more accustomed I became to the electric magnetism of being in his presence, the fonder I became of the person underneath his handsome exterior. He differed from me in so many ways, but now was acting less Pharaoh-ish than the boy I’d encountered during our first meeting in the gardens. Not less confident but less superior, as if he knew the life he’d been born into would never be the same. With every step away from Alexandria, he let the pretenses of Pharaoh go and slipped effortlessly into life as simple Caesarion.

He didn’t seem to notice my borderline paralysis as we dismounted, asking the older manservant who had gathered provisions this morning to set food out on a woolen blanket, then invited me to sit. The guards and servant left us alone, wading to their knees in the cool, burbling water. I was tempted to join them—the dust from the road clung to my sweat-sticky skin in multiple layers and there was no way my hair hadn’t poofed to three times its normal size.

In the end, talking with Caesarion tempted me more than cooling off and I dropped next to him, sticking my legs out in front of me to try to unglue my thighs. He noticed the black leggings that I’d tugged to my calves and reached out to touch them, but then stopped short, as though unsure I’d allow it. I had given him hell for grabbing me uninvited in the gardens.

Something like fear darkened his expression. “What are these?”

“Nothing.” I pushed my tunic and skirts back into place, and he frowned again like he had at the inn, as though he suspected some sort of trick. “Do you really want to talk about clothing now that we have a few moments alone?”

“I suppose not. It is curious, though. You are curious.” He opened a loose woven basket and extracted a bundle of linen, unwrapping a pile of dates and a flat chunk of bread. “Why were you in the gardens the other day? And why had we never met?”

“I thought you wished to leave me my mysteries.”

“I’ve changed my mind. It’s too much to bear, the curiosity.”

“I come from somewhere else. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

The system of planets that made up Genesis would not be discovered for thousands of years. The concept would be as foreign to him as a movie or bacteria or automatic weapons.

“Tell me something about yourself, then. That I will believe.” He popped a date in his mouth and offered the pile to me, his keen eyes never leaving mine.

My whole body wanted to smile; it felt swollen and lit up under his gaze. “I’m seventeen. I have wonderful parents and a brother and friends that are very dear to me.”

Caesarion waved a hand, dismissing my litany. “No. Something about you, Kaia.”

The touch of his fingers on my cheek startled me and I barely managed to stop myself from jerking away. Caesarion’s dark-blue gaze held mine as he brushed away errant hairs that had escaped the bun twisted at the back of my head. The sound and smells of this ancient world intensified around us; heady perfume infused the breeze wafting under my nose, the sound of the wide river tripping over its rocks became tinkling musical bells.

With the inappropriate physical gesture, Pharaoh emerged again. Unlike before, this time the power surrounding him didn’t scare me. It thrilled me. His hand lingered against my skin, the pain meds I’d popped managing to dull the ache as the bio-tat attempted to make me act according to custom.

All of the biological reactions in my body would be recorded. Which meant somewhere, a comp knew I was sweating, that my heart was racing, and that my skin felt alive for the second time in my entire life. But it couldn’t guess why.