Pharaoh

Chapter Twenty Six

The room seemed suddenly quiet, everyone's attention discreetly turned to the concubine and the Pharaoh, as well as their special guest. Syaoran and Tomoyo exchanged a glance. There it was again—the taunting over the lack of a marriage promise between the two of them. And he seemed to know with certainty about the relationship between Sakura and the Pharaoh. Sakura just hoped that he didn't know about Eriol and Tomoyo.

"It is just as you say," Syaoran said evenly. "All of my—concubines are exquisite."

"Ah, but she is a rare gem, is she not?" Daidouji went on, leaning back in his chair, a picture of leisure. Sakura's ears burned. How she wished she could shoot a bolt of white hot magic straight at his head. "My favourite slave is an Anatolian. Aren't you, Yukito?" Obligingly, Yukito bowed. Everything inside Sakura bristled, but she willed herself to remain impassive, not breaking eye contact with the insufferable man.

The Pharaoh took a few beats to decide his stance on the matter. Then he leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, lifting a corner of his mouth up. "Indeed . . . she came here a wild mare, but I like to think that perhaps I've tamed her, if it's possible."

"Won't you call her over here?" Daidouji requested in his most placating voice.

Syaoran hesitated, but Sakura decided for him, shooting up from her chair as gracefully as a goddess. She kept her eyes on Daidouji, and her mouth was still plastered with that half-smirk. With no particular hurriedness, she made her way around the table, purposely taking the long way, until she stood beside the Pharaoh. Then her knees bent and her head lowered in a bow.

"I am honoured to have piqued your interest," she said.

Daidouji appraised her, eyes raking over her body, feigning lust when she could see, could sense, that it was hatred for her that was really emanating from him. It confirmed for her that he knew she was a Clow wielder, that she was the one destroying his creatures. That knowledge almost masked the disgust of realizing it was her friend's father discussing her, looking at her like this. She wished she could have spared Tomoyo the humiliation currently written across her face; the girl's normally porcelain complexion was burning crimson, and she stared at her food like she'd been turned to stone in that position.

"I have the most splendid idea," Daidouji proclaimed.

"Do you," Sakura countered.

His countenance darkened, if only for a moment, at her insolent and unwarranted interjection. "I would love to see a dance between the king and his favourite. Such affections must be an absolute pleasure to observe."

Syaoran cleared his throat. "I am not so sure that's—"

"Of course," Sakura cut in, bowing again. "Whatever Your Grace desires." She trailed her fingers down Syaoran's arm until she clutched his hand and pulled him to his feet. Over at the concubine's table, Rika clapped, and music started up around them. Given that there were no musicians in the room, she must have created it with a disguised enchantment.

Sakura led Syaoran to the space between the concubine's table and the larger one. Panic sang in his eyes. "Remember every royal dance you've ever led," she murmured, steadying him with her gaze. "You won't fumble just because he's watching."

He swallowed, and nodded, clutching her waist more firmly in his hand, remembering his role as domineering ruler. In time to the music, he began to move, leading her in a dance. They'd never danced together like this, Sakura noted. She gave him a small smile, and his eyes crinkled in return.

Their bodies moved naturally together, gliding across their little dance space like they were stepping through clouds. She hated that they had to do this for Daidouji's benefit, playing his games when a moment like this could have really meant something to the both of them, in a different time and place. As the music wound down and their dance slowed, Sakura veered into Syaoran, leaning her face dangerously close to the Pharaoh's, their mouths inches apart, before pushing away from him. She bowed to their audience, who were unsure of how to react. Daidouji alone clapped as Sakura led Syaoran back to his chair.

"I hope it was to Your Grace's satisfaction," Sakura told him, ice creeping into her voice. He glared at her, clearly displeased. If he wanted them to slip up and stumble and act ashamed, then she was not about to give him what he wanted. She took a step toward him, offering her hand. "Perhaps Your Grace would like a dance, too?"

Those cold eyes narrowed at her. Sakura wiggled her fingers at him, tilting her head and giving him a knowing smile. In the tense silence of the room, he reached out and took her hand, clenching it almost painfully. "Why, how could I refuse?"

No music was drummed up as they reached the dance space. Daidouji kept his crushing grip on her hand, but she didn't acknowledge it. Their eyes remained locked as they began to sway and move to a silent beat. He even twirled her, so awkwardly her shoulder cracked, but she only smiled. She kept her body loose and let him lead her in their dance, which, to her satisfaction, was only stiff on his side. At last, he brought their show to a halt, and inclined his head to her.

"Thank you," he said through a clenched jaw, "for the dance, Sakura."

"My pleasure," she replied to his back, as he had already turned and swept back toward the table. Keeping her back straight, she did the same.

Behind her, he said loudly, "Really, Your Majesty, it's all fine and well to dally with the rabble when they come like that, but I cannot understand why you would forfeit your arrangement with my daughter for such a trollop."

Again Sakura did not allow herself to react as she wished to, only continued making her way to her assigned seat. She refused to let him think he'd won some of victory over her. A muttering broke out over the rest of the nobles at Daidouji's assertion. How many of them had heard lascivious rumours about the nature of Syaoran and Sakura's relationship? She had never stopped to consider whether it had reached the notice of others and become gossip. If it hadn't before, it certainly would be now.

"If you will forgive me, sir," Syaoran responded, his tone of voice a clipped reminder of his station and Daidouji's, "I do not see that this is the right situation for such a conversation." He pushed his plate of food away, hardly touched. "I thank you for your presence tonight. But I am positively stuffed and fatigued and must retire for the night." He stood, and for a moment the room was filled with screeching chairs as everyone else stood in respect. His sandals slapped the marble floor, echoing around, as he swept toward the doorway. Suddenly he stopped, and turned his head, a wicked grin stretched across his face. He reached a hand out in Sakura's direction. "Come, Sakura."

A muffled gasp erupted, seemingly from the room itself. Even Rika had let out a disbelieving exhale. Sakura, stifling a loud peal of laughter, met the Pharaoh at the doorway, lacing her fingers into his as they exited the chamber together.

Out of earshot of anyone in the banquet hall, Sakura glanced at Syaoran. A smile played on his lips as he stared ahead. Noticing her watching him, he said, "I somehow feel like that was a victory. You did wonderfully back there, Sakura. I would have been totally flustered if you'd not swept in like that. And offering a dance to him, too? Amazing!"

Ignoring his praise, she hissed, "Do you believe me now?"

He looked startled. "Believe you?"

"About Daidouji being the spellcaster we've been looking for!"

Doubt flashed in his eyes, and he looked away. "Sakura . . . ."

"How can you deny it? He knew who I was. He knew that I'm the one who beat his monster when it attacked me and Tomoyo," Sakura insisted, her grip on his arm tightening. "That's why he singled me out. He wants me to fear him."

Now colour tinged the Pharaoh's cheeks. "Honestly, Sakura, I think he knows who you are for an entirely different reason. Word gets around, especially when you have as much influence as he does. He said he heard you were the favourite—and that is true, I've picked you before even giving Tomoyo a thought. That's why he wanted to torment us tonight. He as good as declared it."

Sakura let go of his arm. "You are impossible. But I'm going to prove it to you. Just please . . . please be careful around him."

Syaoran sighed. "I will."

Sakura waited until well into the night, when the feast was over for hours and there was no doubt everyone would be in bed, before she crept out of her rooms and the courtyard, down the familiar path to Lady Tomoyo's rooms. As predicted, Yukito was standing in front of the big doors, facing forward like a statue. But he eased and lifted his mask so that it rested on the top of his head when he saw her.

"I've been thinking about what you said, and what you couldn't say," Sakura began, lifting her staff. "Daidouji has some kind of enchantment cast over you, doesn't he? So that you can't speak against him or talk about his plans."

Even as she spoke the veins in his temples and his neck bulged, and deep colour crept into his face. Still, he nodded, relief glittering in his eyes. Her heart went out to him. How long had he been burdened with this? This knowledge, and this curse?

"I'm going to go into your mind," she whispered, "and try to break it."

Yukito closed his eyes in silent assent. Sakura clenched her fingers around her staff, letting its power seep into her. Her eyes stayed open but her vision funneled into her friend's thoughts. Everything was dark, muddled, and she didn't know what she was looking at. A spiking headache started in her head, throbbing through her entire body. It had to have been the spell. She forced herself to get past it, to keep looking, to imagine a shattering inside herself. With all of her energy, she pushed and pushed the magic from her through the staff to Yukito's mind, grunting, "Break!" The shattering sensation resonated through her whole being as the enchantment fought back, and she checked her magic before it broke Yukito completely.

At last, with a gasp, she felt the spell crack, and she immediately reeled back her magic, waving her staff as if to dispel Daidouji's barrier. Her knees gave way and she sat down hard on the floor.

"Sakura!" Yukito exclaimed, stooping to help her. He was grinning, a full, bright grin, as he pulled her back to her feet. "That was incredible. You've really done it!"

She returned his smile. "Now we can finally dish the dirt on that awful man."

He nodded. "But first, you have to get back to your quarters and get some rest. You suddenly look like you haven't slept in weeks."

Sakura didn't argue. He was right; that was certainly how she felt. That spell had been a strong one. It left a sense of foreboding lingering about her as she contemplated how powerful Daidouji must really be.

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