FIFTEEN

I dream that I’m in bed with Kamut. His lips are warm on mine. Our legs are entwined. He slides his hand down my thigh, and I moan, pressing myself into his palm. “Little princess,” he sighs. I’m a queen now, but I prefer my old nickname, so of course Kamut knows to use it. It’s my dream after all.

“Neferura.”

My eyes snap open.

I’m still dreaming, but now Kamut is by my bed, on his knees, his face so close I feel his breath on my cheek.

“Don’t scream,” he whispers. “It’s me.”

I lift up onto my elbows, shaking the cobwebs from my mind, my body still slick with desire. But this is no dream. It’s real. Kamut is here, next to me. “You’re here.”

“As summoned.” His smile is sweet, but there’s a hunger in it too.

The words I’d planned flee. In this moment, I want only one thing. I want to remake my dream in reality. I want Kamut inside me, washing away Thutmose’s touch, replacing him in my bed and in my body.

Wordlessly, I toss the blanket aside, inviting Kamut to my bed.

He doesn’t hesitate. He slides in beside me and I pull him close, press my lips against his, feel the length of his body against mine. He makes love to me. It’s slow and tender and everything Iset once hinted at.

He holds me afterward. I don’t want to break the spell—I could stay like this forever—but I called Kamut here for a reason. And as lovely as the night has been, this isn’t it.

“You need to leave Waset,” I whisper.

He moans quietly, rolling onto his back, fingers twined in mine. “Before Thutmose kills me, you mean?”

I turn to my side to face him. “You know?”

He stares up at my ceiling. I can tell by the curve of his cheek that he’s smiling. “He’s made it rather clear. He even brandished my father’s dagger at me today—”

“The blade he’s always fiddling with? It’s your father’s?”

“Not much of a blade for a sword master, I suppose,” Kamut says. “But it was my grandfather’s before Father inherited it, and his father’s before that.”

“How did Thutmose get it?”

“The dog incident.”

“Thutmose’s dog, Anubis? When he attacked you, you mean?” I prop myself up, curious. Moonlight streams in through my open wall, dappling Kamut’s face with light. “What does that have to do with your father’s blade?”

Kamut’s eyes stick to mine. “Father killed the dog with that blade.” He turns onto his side so we’re facing each other. “You know your mother had the dog put down after it attacked me?”

A feeling of dread creeps over the bed that was nothing but bliss just moments ago. “I didn’t know. I suppose I didn’t think about the dog. I was too worried about the two of you. You’d taken such a risk protecting me from Thutmose—”

“I’d take that risk any day.” He smiles. “It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as what came next.”

I wait for an explanation.

“I was far more worried about what you’d think when you saw me with this ugly scar.”

I grin at the memory, reaching out to run my fingertips over his scar. “I felt awful about what happened. The only good thing that came out of that terrible day was Senenmut making you my guard.”

“I’ll never forget the terror I felt that first day, standing outside your door, waiting for you to see me. You hadn’t seen me since the dog attacked me…”

“I was thrilled. Elated you were going to be so close. I felt safer, having you near.”

“Your smile was enormous.” He pulls my hand to his lips. “I’ve loved you ever since the moment I saw that smile.”

I lean in to kiss him slowly, then pull back and blink away tears. “I didn’t know…about the smile. Or the dog.”

Kamut grimaces. “Poor beast. Thutmose and that dog adored each other. It was bad enough your mother had the dog killed. Worse still, she forced Thutmose to choose between killing it himself or watching my father saw its head off with that damn blade. Thutmose couldn’t kill it, so he was forced to watch every bloody moment, the dog squealing and whining through far too much of it. It was horrendous for me. I can’t imagine how awful it was for him. Your mother’s punishment was far worse than the attack.”

“The choice,” I gasp, falling to my back. That’s what Senenmut meant. And the cruelty. It’s no wonder Thutmose hates us. Mother exiled him from the only home he knew, trapped him far from court, leaching away the power he believed Father and the gods granted him. The dog’s death can only have deepened his resentment. Clearly the choice Mother gave him stuck with him all these years.

Kamut traces my cheek, then my breast, and finally rests his palm on my stomach. “Thutmose hated you both long before the dog died. I’m sure the poor thing’s ugly end didn’t help. But if it wasn’t the dog, Thutmose would loathe you for some other incident. It’s not like your mother didn’t give him reasons.”

“Maybe I should have done more.”

“Maybe you did too much.” Kamut pulls me closer. “You were too good to Thutmose for far too long. He had reasons to be angry at your mother, not you. He never had the right to treat you as awfully as he did.”

We both fall silent. I know without asking that Kamut is thinking the same thing I am—I’m now married to that angry little boy. Thutmose can treat me however he likes. And if I react at all, my life is at risk.

After a while, I ask Kamut where he’ll go.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I intend to stay close, find some way to help you. I’ll stay in the palace if you—”

“No.” I snuggle into him. “I can’t lose you too.”

“There must be some way we can…” He doesn’t finish. We might both want this more than anything in the world, but we are an impossibility. “At least let me help you. I can’t just walk away and leave you. Don’t ask me to do that.”

I close my eyes, considering the options before me. None feel safe or right. Hathor may have failed me by not saving Senenmut, but her scorpion did just save my life, and Hathor is right about some things. I do need to find a different way forward. I must stop choosing between paths others have laid.

“Stay in Waset,” I say at last. “Make sure you’re safe. But stay close. I will ask for help when I need it.”

“How? It’s nearly impossible to talk when we’re near each other. How will we communicate if I’m hiding out in the desert?”

I think for a moment, then remind him of the eight flagpoles in front of the first temple pylon. “Tie a red streamer around the last flagpole when you want to communicate with me. I’ll do the same if I need you. Then wait for a priestess to find you near the Kushite brewer’s stall. Wear something red so she can spot you. The priestess will tell you what to do next. Trust no one but Iset, your brother, and the priestess I send.”

He draws me close, breath heavy. “As you command.” His voice is husky. “I do aim to please you.” He kisses me once more and then draws away, his voice wistful. “You could come with me. We could disappear together.”

I close my eyes, imagining it, then release a sigh, heavy with regret. “Thutmose would never stop hunting us. He’d tear the country apart searching for me. There would be no peace, for us or for Kemet.”

He rubs his nose against my cheek. “So we give Thutmose a different wife and I can take his,” he jokes.

“If only we could.” I smile, imagining a life with Kamut, far from court. It’s a beautiful thought, until I envision Thutmose’s soldiers bearing down on us, destroying whatever we’d managed to build, the country in constant chaos, worried over its missing god’s wife. And then, of course, there are my duties. It’s my job to care for the people of Kemet. How could I do that without my titles and the resources they grant me?

Disappearing would be wonderful. If only it were possible.

My musings are interrupted as Kamut’s hand slips down my spine. This time, the lovemaking is fierce and desperate. When it’s over, we hold each other until dawn. Then Kamut kisses me one final time, agrees to deliver a message to Iset, and disappears onto my deck.

I stare up at my star-speckled ceiling, breathing in the scent of him, still on my linen throw. I may never see Kamut again. Yet my body feels light. In spite of the grief that still sits in my gut, my thoughts are clear. My resources and options may run thin. I’ve lost so much already. But I’ve gained something too—the will to live, to survive and thrive. That means finding a way to live that doesn’t involve Thutmose owning my body and will, a way to avoid the death traps he’ll continue to seed. I must claw back my power and find a way to help the people of Kemet as I always have.

I don’t have much to fight back with, but I have far more than nothing, including friends who can help me forge a new path.

Three days later, Iset flies into my arms, wrapping me in a warm, happy hug. I return the embrace, inhaling her scent: mint with hints of lotus and beer. Satiah hurries Nebtah inside and closes the door behind them, locking the four of us in my small temple office alone.

“I was so happy to see Kamut,” Iset whispers. “I’ve been praying you’d find a way for us to meet. I can’t believe Kamut isn’t going to guard you anymore. Still, he looked rather happy.” One side of her lips turns up, her eyes hungry with curiosity.

I grant her a small smile, which makes her squeal, then pull her down onto a chair next to me. We’re not here to discuss romance, although I can’t get to the topic at hand without asking Iset about the pregnancy. “How are you?”

She touches her belly, grinning. “Less sick than I was. Happy to be here.”

Satiah and Nebtah pull chairs close so we’re in a small circle.

I turn to Satiah. “Did anyone follow you?”

She shakes her head. “No one paid us attention—”

“No one paid me attention,” Iset interrupts. “They assumed I was one of your priestesses, dressed as I am.” She gestures at the white robe she wears, adorned with gold thread. It matches Satiah’s and Nebtah’s exactly. “Everyone stares at pretty Satiah, but they ignored me and Nebtah entirely.”

“You get used to it,” Nebtah jokes.

Iset grins at her, then turns to me. “Did you call us all here because you have a plan?” Her face falls. “I do hope so. Your last letter broke my heart. I’m so sorry you had to marry that vile man. And Senenmut…” She pauses, eyes brimming with tears. “It’s all Thutmose’s fault—”

“Iset,” I interrupt, glancing at the two priestesses. Their eyes are wide and curious. “Before this goes any further,” I say, “I want to be clear about a few things. Just being here puts you all in danger. I’m in danger. I want to find a way out of it, but right now, I can’t protect myself, much less the three of you. You don’t have to have anything to do with this. You can stand up and walk away now. I will never hold it against you. Nothing between us will change. You have your own lives to live, your own families to worry about. You don’t need to worry about mine. You have a choice. But if you stay, your choices will soon be limited, and your lives will be at risk.”

Nebtah leans forward, eager. “If I hadn’t joined the troupe when I did, well, let’s just say you gave me a purpose when I had none. And more than a job, I watched you work every day to help people. You’re one of the three most powerful people in Kemet. You could sit in your palace stuffing yourself with honey cakes and date tarts. But you’re here with us, working to keep the god satisfied, to allocate more of the priesthood’s resources to the people—”

“No one works harder than you, Nebtah,” I remind her.

She grins, pleased by the compliment. “I had a good role model, Adoratrice. You gave me the opportunity, and you showed me how to make smart use of it.”

“Yes, yes. We are all fiercely loyal.” Satiah smiles. “And you know Nebtah and I aren’t scared of a little danger. I assume that’s why you chose us?”

I nod, impressed by the observation. Many of my priestesses are loyal. Fewer are loyal and brave. Fewer still are loyal, brave, and keenly observant.

“If you’re in danger, your estate is in danger, which means we’re in danger too. And I’m assuming many others would be in danger along with us,” Nebtah reasons.

“So how can we help?” Satiah finishes her thoughts.

The two are close. In some ways, they’re as different as fish and birds. Satiah is sleek and beautiful; Nebtah is chubby and plain. Satiah loves to joke and laugh; Nebtah takes the work seriously, pushing the troupe to do more, do it faster, do it better. Satiah likes to surprise; Nebtah believes in order and predictability. Yet they share a passion for service. More to the point, they are both risk takers, comfortable with questioning authority.

That’s another reason I chose them—they’ll both disagree with me, sometimes loudly and passionately, which too few of the priestesses feel comfortable doing. I trust them to be loyal, but I also trust them to be honest.

“I don’t have a final plan quite yet. I don’t know how this will all play out.” I tilt my chin up. “But I have ideas, a place to start. First, we must find a way to discover what Thutmose is up to. We need a spy in his quarters—someone who can get and stay close to him.”

My eyes flit to Satiah, turning over what I need to ask her to do. I’ve played many scenarios out in my head through the past few sleepless nights. Some lead to death, sometimes hers, sometimes mine. But the first step toward safety, toward survival, is always the same: eyes on Thutmose. I take a soothing breath.

“Iset.” I turn to her. “See if you can learn more about the scorpion with skills at forging. Oh, and I’m going to order new gowns for the priestesses and for myself. I’ll make Maia a rich woman. And it will give us an excuse to see each other more often.”

Iset nods happily.

“Nebtah.” I turn to her. “We need new instruments. Go to the one-eyed jeweler. Have him make a new sistrum.” I explain the design—it’s my own idea, but it’s influenced by the many contraptions Senenmut collected. “Keep an eye out for a red streamer tied to the eighth temple flagpole.” I tell her what to do if she sees it.

She nods her agreement, and I turn to the most difficult task of all.

“Any plan with a shot of working will hinge on you, Satiah. I’m considering punishing you for all that beauty.” I grin, hoping to soften the threat. But I also want her to take it seriously.

“Who am I to bed?” Satiah’s grin is naughty.

“No one yet,” I retort. “But eventually, perhaps…” I take another gulp of air before I say, “My husband, which means danger.”

Her eyes widen at the prospect of getting close to Thutmose, but she shakes it off and shrugs. “I’ve been in danger since the day I was abandoned as a child. If bedding some poor fool makes you—us—safer, it’s a small price to pay.”

“This fool is a pharaoh,” Iset points out.

Satiah’s lips curve into a grin. “Pharaohs are just men. Well, most of them are men anyway.”

My stomach churns at the thought. “We’ll see if it comes to that.” I nod, replaying my plan to ensure the risk will be worth my while—and hers—in my head, reminding myself that Satiah is my best chance at infiltrating Thutmose’s inner sanctum so I can learn his moves before he makes them. If I’m to succeed, we’ll all have to pay some price. “We’re quite a team,” I continue. “I’m lucky to have you three. I intend to find a way to survive and use the power the gods gave me to help people as I always have. With your help, perhaps I’ll succeed.”

The two priestesses offer curt bows and walk outside, leaving me alone with Iset. They’re waiting just beyond the door to escort her home. We don’t have long, but there’s time enough for a final hug. I whisper in her ear. “I may not have Hathor’s scorpions, but I have the three of you. It may be enough.”

“And Thuiu,” she reminds me. “And Kamut. You have to use all your resources, Mistress. We can’t let vile Set win. If he does, everyone will suffer. I know you well enough to know it’ll help to remind yourself it’s not about you. Not really.”

My hand falls to her belly.

She presses her hand over mine. “I’m so sorry about Senenmut.”

I pull her close and we stand still, holding each other. I wait for my tears to stop, then step back again. I worry her mother’s bracelet off my wrist and hand it to her, anxiety simmering as she slips it on.

“Thank you for keeping it safe,” she says, fondling the scorpion amulet, now dangling from her wrist. “It’s going to be all right, Mistress. We’ll find a way. Wait and see. In the meantime, I can’t wait to dress you all.” She grins, then turns to go. Pausing at the door, she looks back. “By the way, the crocodile dung we took from the doctor’s rooms is in the bottom drawer of the big cedar chest. You might need it after all.” She nods, opens the door, and leaves me alone with too many what-ifs to contend with. What-ifs that, if not handled correctly, could threaten the whole country.

At least one piece of the plan is clear.

Back in my quarters, my feet aim themselves at my large cedar chest. I drop to my knees and rummage through my bottom drawer until my fingers find something hard amid my linens. I pull it out: the jar full of crocodile dung. I hurry to my study to find the scroll that contains the right potion and spell, then mix the tonic that will ensure I am not with child. There’s enough to last me for a year, perhaps more. Mother and Thutmose can want an heir of my body all they want. Only I have the power to give it to them. It’s a power I intend to use to advance my agenda, not theirs.