Pharaoh
Chapter Twenty Five
Sakura and Touya were just rushing from his room when they heard a fanfare in the distance, coming from the city. They exchanged a glance.
"It couldn't be Daidouji already," she blurted, panic lacing her voice, "could it?"
Touya's expression was grim. Though it was impossible to see what was happening in the city, he was likely picturing the Daidouji flags being borne as they had been that day in the desert so long ago. "If the attack was his doing all along, he had plenty of time to haul his ass over here, didn't he?"
Sakura's stomach twisted. This only pushed the pieces more firmly into place. "I have to tell Syaoran. Warn him."
"Go," Touya urged. "I have to find my men."
They split up in the corridor, Sakura sprinting as she shot a magic tendril ahead of her to track the Pharaoh. She found him in the conference chambers, just quitting a meeting as the men dispersed at the sound of the fanfare.
"Your Majesty," she panted, for the benefit of the counsellors still exiting, who barely even acknowledged her presence. "There's something you'll want to hear."
"Daidouji's here, I know," he replied grimly.
"It's not that," she cut in. "My brother and I were discussing – everything, and well . . . ."
Syaoran studied her, concern lining his features. "He didn't take it well? I can talk to him if you want. Maybe after this, though."
She waved him off. "No, it's not that. It's that – well, we think that Daidouji and the person behind the ancient magic and the murderers . . . that they're the same person."
The Pharaoh frowned, his brows drawing so close together they could be touching. "What?"
"Yes! It all makes sense! He planned all those murders, all those attacks, so he could make you look bad and have a reason to come and, I don't know, I guess usurp your throne!" she rambled, the words tumbling out of her mouth. At his reaction, she wished she could stuff some of them back in and choose them more wisely, however.
"Sakura . . . ," he started cautiously.
Her mouth fell open. "You don't believe me!"
He sighed, shifting his weight on his feet. "It's just that . . . it sounds hasty," he said, his tone like he was trying to coax glass out of shattering. "I understand your urgency. He's just arrived here, and Touya, well . . . ." For some reason, his eyes trailed away from hers at that.
"What about Touya?" she demanded.
"It fits a little conveniently for him, don't you think?" Syaoran failed to keep the accusing tone from his voice.
Sakura couldn't believe what she was hearing. A blush of fury heated her cheeks, her ears. Her hands gesticulated madly while she spoke, which further angered her, knowing it made her look more insane. "This isn't about Touya! It's about what's really going on here!"
Syaoran put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, we can talk about this later. Right now, Daidouji is rolling up to our doorstep. I really need to deal with that! It's kind of important."
She squirmed out of his grip. "The puzzle is falling into place right in front of you, and you aren't even going to acknowledge it!" As she said it, echoing Yukito's ominous warning, something dawned on her.
"Please, Sakura, chastise me later, I really must go," Syaoran insisted, looking a bit panicked as the trumpets blasted again, sounding closer than they were before.
But Sakura was already thinking ahead of him. "Fine." She swatted his hands away and started for the door. "But just know that his trap is far more intricate than we thought."
To her dismay, Sakura reached Tomoyo's chambers just as the Lady and her guard were leaving.
"My father is here," Tomoyo announced breathlessly, looking distracted. "We must go to meet him."
"Yes," Sakura replied, meeting Yukito's solemn gaze. She tried her best to tell him with her eyes that she had deciphered his riddle. He inclined his head slightly, showing he understood, before strapping his dreadful mask back into place and presumably falling into his vow of silence once more as his master approached. Spear in hand, he herded Tomoyo away.
Sakura went back to the concubine's courtyard, where the others were gathered. Rika looked distraught, exhaling sharply when she caught sight of Sakura.
"There you are," she said, immediately thrusting a gown into Sakura's hands. "I was worried we wouldn't find you in time. We need to make an excellent appearance all together for Daidouji. He can't think that there's a hair out of place here."
Grumbling, Sakura took the gown and hastily changed into it in her room. "He knows there are hairs out of place," she griped to herself. "He's the one doing the dishevelling."
Chiharu quickly applied make up to Sakura's face, and then they all hurried to the entrance courtyard, lining up like dolls waiting prettily to be gazed upon, acting like they didn't all need to catch their breath. People crowded the courtyard from all sides, coming to catch a glimpse of the commotion. Syaoran was standing in the archway leading into the palace, dwarfed by the space around him, but managing to exude a commanding air to fill the entrance. It was unfortunate that he was eclipsed in shadow. Sakura didn't like the imagery she discerned in the Pharaoh, waiting in the shade of the arches, being approaching by Daidouji, riding through the sun in his chariot. But ride he did, his eyes fixed on Syaoran all the while, a hateful smile playing on his mouth. He stopped several feet from the entryway and stepped down from the open standing chariot, which he had clearly only been in since arriving in Cairo, to make a show. It would have been impossible to travel as he had, across the country in such a short time, without a proper, closed in carriage. But he apparently liked his theatrics.
"Your Majesty," he boomed, for the benefit of all the onlookers, as he stood not far from the king. Only he could make the respectful address sound so vulgar and base. Sakura squinted to study him. His drooping eyes, so dark they looked black, were lined in elaborate kohl, his head covered by a loose fitting cloth that fell down his back. She didn't like how closely it resembled Syaoaran's crown. He offered a loose bow.
"Daidouji," Syaoran replied in an equally exaggerated tone, "my most welcome friend, I am so glad to see you."
"I am honoured to be here." Daidouji stood straight again, and when Syaoran stood his ground imposingly, scowled slightly upon realizing he would have to move towards the Pharaoh. The sun does not approach you, Sakura thought. You approach the sun with your head bowed and hope you live to tell of it. Syaoran clasped Daidouji's hand in a firm shake of greeting, but even from where she stood Sakura could see the sparks spitting from their locked gaze. She found her own hands were balled into straining fists, and longed to be able to connect them to that hateful man's face.
"We have prepared a banquet feast in honour of your arrival," Syaoran told him, gesturing inside the palace. "My men will show you to your chambers where you can refresh yourself. We will have dinner ready whenever you are settled in. Your esteemed daughter will be there to greet you."
Daidouji's eyes darted everywhere, taking in all the luxuries he clearly so badly wanted to call his. "No need," he said lightly. "Show my men where to put my things. I would not dream of putting a royal feast on hold. And I admit I am quite famished and I wish to see my esteemed daughter." At his last words he added a mocking tone. He seemed none too pleased that Tomoyo had never been formally announced as engaged to the king. Sakura predicted that barbed remarks concerning it would be a big theme of his 'visit'.
"Of course," Syaoran agreed amiably, though Sakura figured he had wanted to buy time for there to actually be a feast ready. "You are Our guest, and We welcome whatever you desire." A bland smile. He used the royal 'we', invoking the image of himself and Ra as one entity, flaunting it for this man who so strongly wished Ra had chosen him instead. But Daidouji only returned a wan smile of his own.
The two men turned and began their walk inside, both taking strong but leisurely strides, attempting to outdo one another in a display of being both casual and powerful. Sakura couldn't help but to roll her eyes at the little contest this meeting had instantly become. She met eyes with Rika, who nodded, and their retinue of would-be concubines began to follow the Pharaoh inside, keeping a respectful distance from the two men, though no doubt each of them was enhancing their hearing with magic to keep up with the strained conversation.
Sakura visualized the kitchens below them, where so much havoc had been wreaked not too long ago. Displacing the image of the bloodied corpse she'd seen the last time she'd been down there, she let a vision of what was currently going on down there fill her mind. The cooks were rushing to and fro, with pounds of food cluttering the table, trying to get everything done and make it look and taste good. But at this rate, the feast would be expected in less than half an hour; there was no way they could have everything ready in time. So Sakura thought she'd lend a bit of help—a tick-tock started vibrating in her chest and she forced it to go faster and faster until she felt like her whole body was buzzing. She directed it toward the kitchens, chanting Time in her head, and watched as that small pocket of the palace began to work at what looked to be inhumanly fast speeds. A smile donned her face at her own handiwork.
"What was that?" Rika demanded, bumping her arm. "I know you just did something, I can see it in your self-satisfied face."
"She means shit-eating grin," Chiharu put in helpfully, and Naoko stifled a laugh.
Sakura chuckled. "I made time go faster for the people working in the kitchen. So that they can have everything done and prepared for when Syaoran calls for it in the banquet hall."
Rika raised her eyebrows, seeming impressed, as Naoko exclaimed, "Genius!"
"Just please remember to put them back to normal when they're done," Rika warned.
"I, for one, think extra fast kitchen workers would be a great full time addition to the palace," Chiharu stated. "Think of how fast you could grab a snack."
They all arrived at the banquet hall, two liveried men opening the huge double doors for the Pharaoh and his guest. Tomoyo was already seated near one end of the table, Yukito stationed a few feet away, straight backed and still. The former broke into a huge smile at the sight of her father. She stood and curtsied to him.
"My beautiful daughter," Daidouji said, walking over to her and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "How have you been? I have missed you these months."
"Very well, Father, thank you. It's been lovely staying here. I've seen so much and made so many new friends," Tomoyo told him, shooting a smile at Sakura. Daidouji cast a glance over his shoulder at the Keeper, briefly meeting her gaze. A chill spiked down her spine.
"Indeed," Daidouji muttered.
"Please, take a seat," Syaoran interjected, gesturing to the chair nearest Tomoyo. It was just next to the head of the table—taunting Daidouji as he seated himself while Syaoran settled into the head chair. Sakura and the others took their customary seats at the concubine's table. The Pharaoh gestured for a servant to bring over some wine. As the man obliged, Daidouji surveyed the room, like he was looking for something. Sakura suddenly wondered where Touya was and hoped he would stay away from here. She sensed there would be a disaster if he suddenly burst in and started yelling at this man he loathed.
But Sakura was taken aback when Daidouji called, "Yukito, wine."
Yukito, still perched behind Daidouji and Tomoyo, bowed and stepped forward, lifting a pitcher of wine from the table and delicately pouring some into Daidouji's goblet. He hovered while the man lazily sipped from the glass, stepping forward to refill it each time a swig was taken, taking care to ensure his maser's cup was never empty. Sakura felt her blood beginning to boil. He was using Yukito like some kind of slave butler; not even the Pharaoh, the most powerful man in Egypt, would abuse his servants the way Daidouji was using Yukito. Somehow . . . he had to have known that Yukito had something to do with Syaoran. But when Daidouji's eyes fleetingly met hers again, she shivered. He knew. He knew that Sakura was tied to Syaoran and to the Clow and that Yukito was important to her. Sweat dewed on her palms, the back of her neck.
Syaoran, who had been greeting more nobles and dignitaries as they filled the rest of the seats at the large table, announced nervously, "Now, let's begin our meal, in honour of my guest."
Sakura discreetly snapped her fingers and was breathless for a moment as the ticking sensation slammed back into her chest, unwinding until the seconds passed as regular seconds and she dismissed the magic. Just as she did so, the doors banged open and the kitchen staff entered the room with their exquisite dishes, happily placing them along the table. Syaoran could hardly hide his surprise. Sakura caught his eye and winked, to which he grinned enormously at her as he pieced together what she had done. Daidouji, on the other hand, looked sorely disappointed that there was indeed to be a great feast in a timely manner.
A din of chatter rose as the guests began to fill their plates. Daidouji made Yukito serve him and Tomoyo, who was staring shamefacedly at her utensils all the while. Eriol was seated quite far away from them, pretending to make conversation with other dukes, but he kept looking back at Tomoyo, like he feared that at any moment she would burst into flame.
Sakura couldn't take her eyes from the scene, either, though, she had to admit. Rika chastised her for being too obvious just as Daidouji lifted his dark eyes and once again met her stare. She didn't flinch away, only coolly returned the look, until she finally let her mouth turn up at one end in a smirk and inclined her head mockingly.
"Your Majesty," he said loudly, still staring at her. "I hear that your little group of concubines is exquisite."
Colour darkened Syaoran's cheeks. He twitched, like he wanted to look over at them, but made himself look dismissive. A normal king would not pay so much attention to his concubines. A normal king would have actual concubines, rather than magic wielding Clow warriors. "It—yes, indeed."
"In fact," Daidouji drawled on, "I hear that the one they call Sakura, a rather exotic Anatolian, is quite the favourite."
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