Astarte's Wrath by Trisha Wolfe Read Free Book Online

and the sight and scent of roasted duck makes my mouth water. The wait looks to be too long, though. I glance toward the shore, just past it to Antirhodos. The procession will happen within the hour. Maybe Lunia is already there.
    Pushing past the line, I make my way toward a tight corridor between connecting palaces. The music is a low, muffled thrum as I enter the covered archway. The fires of the feast fade away, and the chilled air engulfs me, the darkness complete.
    Sparking a small dome of Charge, I light my path, and an arm captures my waist.
    My back is pulled against a hard chest. Sculpted, tanned forearms press my arms to my sides, and my Charge is doused. The darkness surrounds us. “Get off!”
    Trying to free myself, I instep, driving my heel into the man’s toes. He grunts. “Is that how you treat all your masters?” Xarion’s says near my ear.
    I huff, and allow my Charge to die out completely. “Are you mad? What are you doing—and why are you here?”
    He doesn’t release me. Instead, he holds me closer. Then begins to sway our bodies in time to the low, distant music. “I slipped out,” he says. “And I’m wearing a mask so I can enjoy the festivities before I’m made to sit on a throne all night.”
    “Xarion,” I say breathlessly. “You’re hopeless.” But I laugh as he begins to move me toward the party, his legs guiding mine from behind. “Will you release me?”
    “Never,” he says. “I want one last moment of freedom before I’m forced to be Pharaoh. Remember when we used to sneak wine at the feast every year?”
    “Oh, yes,” I say, leaning my head against his solid chest. “I remember the queen getting quite upset with your antics.”
    “Mine?” His feet stop. “What about you? I believe it was your wicked influence that convinced me to run drunk and naked through my mother’s procession.”
    I laugh, remembering his bare cheeks flying past gaping nobles. We were only ten then, and things were so much simpler. We knew of many important things happening around us, but back then, everything was conquerable. We ruled the world—we owned it.
    The warmth of Xarion’s arms wrapped around my waist brings me back to the now, the moment we’re in. Things are so different—changed. Not spoiled, but I see him and our world through clear eyes now. He’ll always be my friend, my confidante, but I’m his protector.
    “Xarion,” I say. “I really must get you to the procession. You’re needed there more than ever with the queen at war. The people need their pharaoh.”
    He groans. “When did you become so responsible?”
    “When I was forced to think of . . .” I trail off, stopping myself from blurting something foolish.
    His face inches closer to my cheek, the heat of his skin a live current. “What? What has turned the reckless Star so serious?” He smooths my beads aside, his soft fingers skimming my skin. Then he turns me around in his arms so I’m forced to meet his eyes through his dark mask. “Tell me.”
    I swallow. “After that night, Xarion, when I was forced to realize all the dangers that could befall you. That’s when.” He rolls his eyes, as he always does when I remind him of the night he got his scar. I’m tempted to run my fingers over it. I regret allowing him to talk me into sneaking out with Lunia. To a play at the Theatre, of all things. I was so irresponsible. “I’m vowed to guard you. And I could never live with myself if anything happened to you.”
    His lips press together, the slight dimples in his cheeks appear. It’s enough to make my legs tremble, and I lower my gaze from his. “No,” he says, and lifts my chin with his smooth fingertips. “You never look down. You’re every bit my equal.”
    I laugh. “Don’t toy, Xarion.”
    “I’m not.” His eyes are intense green pools, a turbulent ocean that rocks my stomach. “And you feel this way . . .” His head tilts to the side questioningly. “. . . because we’re the