When faced with a flight or fight situation I had always been the type of girl more likely to flee. There would be no bold last stand, nor would I be particularly brave when the time came to face my end. I wouldn't go down guns blazing, because if it was up to me; I wouldn't go down at all. If the odds weren't in my favor why risk playing? Survival, playing the game. I was good at it; I knew when to move my pieces and when to hold back. It was a trait I wished Carol shared, especially during moments like these where it was achingly clear that she didn't.

In a way I was tired. Tired of chasing after her. Of always having to put her first because she didn't know any better. It was shameful, and something I hated to admit, but I resented her for it. Her absolute and conscious refusal to see things from my point of view. If we had been back home I would have stopped hovering. Let her make her own decisions and damn the consequences because weren't they hers to deal with? She had her brothers, her mother to berate her. But we weren't home.

And every one of my attempts to keep her from doing something she couldn't take back were met with nothing but scorn. As I watched the white fabric of her dress disappear I couldn't help but think that this felt far too familiar.

xXx

Memphis was gone. He would be gone for a week inspecting the same construction site we'd been caught at. And whenever her brother was away Isis took the time to play. She'd sent Carol and I, along with an armed guard, to 'pick up some things', but I had the feeling she wanted us to see the public punishment happening in the middle of the square. It had been hot that day. Unbearably so, even for Egypt. The salt from my sweat had stung my eyes, making them water. My first look at what Isis had wanted us to see was blurry and unrefined.

I'd heard of the cruelty, studied it even. The practice itself had been dead then. I'd seen it the first day we'd been pulled through time, when Isis had cut out the heart of a man while he screamed. But this was different. This was worse. Living cruelty. That man's screams had died with him, but these showed no sign of stopping.

The knuckles of my hands were white, my bones creaking as I struggled to hold back my stupid stupid sister. An arm around her waist and a hand pressed over her mouth as I pulled her away and into the shadows. She fought me, and I could feel her tears against the hand I still held to her face. The guards were watching, they always were. And though thay made no move to follow there was no doubt in my mind that every breath we took, every expression we made was being carefully catologed for Isis to tear apart later.

Carol eventually managed to push me off, and the look in her eyes would have shamed me if I had cared. It was a good thing I didn't.

"Why did you do that? Why did you stop me?" It was also a good thing there was nobody here to hear us. Carol yelling at me would definitely attract attention, just hopefully not the wrong kind of attention. She glared at me, and her eyes were red, "You saw what they were doing to those people. To children."

I scoffed, but the disgust in her eyes was painful. With her free from my grasp, I settled for shoving her further into the shadows, "Because we couldn't stop them. What would you have done Carol? Heroics are all well and good if they actually manage to change things. Having you run in there screaming would have changed nothing but the amount of blood running through your veins."

But Carol just glared.

"You're a coward."

Lips curling up in a mock smile, I shrugged. "I prefer the term strategic." Facing Carols indignant rage was a far preferable option than the one she was suggesting.

"But they're people Evie." Her voice was soft and pleading. Like she thought I didn't already know that, like I didn't understand. But I did. I knew that pain, that fear, and it wasn't something I ever wanted to experience again. So I closed my eyes, hardened my heart and cursed my own cruelty.

This was not the place, nor the time for gentleness. "They're slaves."

She reared back, her face falling at my blunt tone, "So that makes it alright? You would willingly stand by and watch?" She looked a word away from striking me. I could see her body trembling, her hands clenching. So I stepped closer. Invasive as it was. I lifted my wrists, and the shine of the gilded gold bracelets locked around them was a cold light that reflected in my eyes.

"Of course, it's not alright," I hissed, my own voice rising. I swallowed hard and hoped she couldn't see me shaking. "But in case you haven't noticed, we're wearing the same chains they are, no matter how pretty ours might be. Same chains, same punishment. I don't like pain Carol. Do you?"

Carol didn't back away again, instead just stubbornly set her chin. "I'm not afraid."

"No," I said seriously, "fear is for the living, and dead is what you're setting up to be if you're not careful. I won't always be around to stop you. Your bleeding heart might just keep on bleeding."

She wasn't convinced. "It's not fair," she continued. "this would never have happened back home. It's wrong."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "We're not at home Carol. We're stuck three thousand years in the past. Now is not the time to argue ethics that won't be considered relevant for a long, long time. It's not like slavery is a new concept. If you want to take a step down from your high horse you'll remember there was slavery where you're from as well, and it wasn't so long ago that that changed." I pressed forward, too far gone to care about shed tears. "Did you ever ask, ever question where mommy and daddy's money came from? I bet you didn't. Because you didn't – and don't – care."

I started to pull her again, towards the palace and away from the desolate outer yard. "You need to grow up or learn to keep your mouth shut. Next time it might be you on the receiving end of a whip."

"At least I'm willing to act!" She raged. "Unlike you." She rubbed her eyes, smearing her tears across her cheeks. "If you spend too long waiting you might miss the only chance we have. I hope you won't be too afraid to take it when it finally arrives."

xXx

She'd run then too, her eyes full of tears and had refused to speak to me for days. It seemed as though Carol was always running from me.

When I turned the next corner, it was with a sigh of relief. We'd reached the outer wall. Tall and imposing, it was the first line of defense for the Pharaohs' palace. One final set of stairs led to a narrow passage at the top – more of a walkway really – where guards were usually posted, overlooking the Nile. The river had begun to flood, the water level had been rising steadily all day. Sirius had risen, another cause for celebration; it was a sign of a soon to be good harvest. Egypt would soon be rich with more than just gold, as the flooding season would last up to two weeks, carrying with it the fertile sediments that would remain as the water receded. The river had grown so much that water now brushed up against the walls polished stone base.

The river aside, this particular passage only had one entrance and ended with a blank stretch of wall. I thought I was going to make it, catch her at the end where there was nowhere else to go and she would cry some more and hate me, and I was alright with that.

My relief was short-lived however, as it soon became clear that while my sister was indeed cornered at that very dead end… it just wasn't by me.

No, not me.

Memphis stood by her side, and I paused, my feet refusing to move despite my better judgment. He was always such a sight. Regal and commanding. The gold and jewels he wore glittered, in much the same way the ones I was wearing did. Jewels he gave me. It was utterly without warning that I found the sparkle that once enraptured me was no longer quite as appealing.

One of his hands was wrapped around her upper arm and his grip was so tight I could see her skin turning red under the pressure. Facing each other I could see nothing but the vague outline of their faces under the glow of the moon. Carol was leaning away from him and small as she was, she hung in his grasp, her feet brushing the ground from where he pulled her to meet his gaze. I could hear her breathing; great heaving gasps, so loud they drowned out whatever it was Memphis was saying.

It was as though my perception of the world had suddenly shifted. I had spent so long only really seeing one side of him. He had been so gentle, almost reserved. The work I had done during the beginning of my stay had dwindled to almost nothing. He indulged my curiosity, seeming to derive great amusement from my love of architecture and history. And he would hold me sometimes – if he could catch me by surprise – and his arms would curl around me as though he thought I might disappear.

The smiles, the charm. All those whispered words and stolen moments. I saw none of that gentleness now.

It was my hesitation that caused what happened next. Impulsiveness may have been Carols' downfall, but this was mine. My greatest failing among many. I could have blinked and missed it. He must have said something to set her off. An insult, or an order. She never did like being told what to do.

I had surged forward at the first sign of movement, true movement, and I was still too slow. They struggled, seemingly oblivious to the sound my footsteps as I rushed towards them, and I could only watch as they moved closer to the edge.

I called her name. Breathless as I was, I knew they both heard me. Memphis' tensed and his head turned. There was surprise in his eyes, worry, frustration. And in his distraction his grip loosened just enough to matter.

It was like moving through sand. Every second an hour. And just when I thought I was close enough to brush his robe or grab at Carols' dress did I realize it had already slipped through my fingers.

Snatching the opportunity my arrival presented, Carol had finally managed to free her arm, or perhaps it was that Memphis had finally let go. Either way, the result was disastrous. She had pulled too hard, too suddenly, and she stumbled. Back and over the low edge of the wall, headfirst into the Nile. She met my eyes as she tipped over the ledge and fell. She screamed, or maybe I did. My ears were ringing, and the sound of my own heartbeat was so loud it was difficult to ascertain anything beyond it. I lunged, completely prepared to follow her into the water.

I only made it half over. Memphis grabbed me, his arms circling my waist in his panicked attempt to stop me. And although he managed to keep me from going over, he couldn't stop my momentum. I gasped as my torso pitched forward, slamming into stone with enough force to steal the breath from my lungs and leave me lying stunned atop the railing. With my head hanging over the edge I would see the ripples from where Carol had landed.

But I couldn't see her.

I moaned in pain and struggled to pull air into my body as I frantically swept my gaze over the dark river. Memphis was at my back, tugging me away from the ledge and holding me tight to his chest as though he thought I was going to try and jump again if he let go. I wasn't. I could barely focus; the ground beneath my feet was swaying, my ears were still ringing, and his arms were the only thing currently keeping me upright as my legs had long since ceased to be able to hold me. This couldn't be happening. He was saying something. It echoed and faded, the only proof he was actually speaking was the breeze his breath created as it brushed passed the shell of my ear and ruffled my hair. At my lack of response, he turned me around to face him and I could see his lips forming my name.

I wanted to answer him, truly I did, but I still couldn't breathe and the edge of my vision was slowly fading to black. I didn't have the energy to fight it.