The fire is laid, the fire shines;
The incense is laid on the fire
Your perfume comes to me; May my perfume come to you.
May I be with you; May you be with me.
—Pyramid Text 269
The priestess Nephtys rested her chin in her hands and her elbows on the well-worn rim of her favorite scrying basin, which she’d long ago named the Eye of Horus. Two hands deep and wide as the god’s shoulders, the large round bowl had been fashioned in ancient times from a single piece of the finest golden amber and polished to satin smoothness. It carried a slight fragrance of ambergris. Thus, it was pleasing to the senses as well as being unfailingly honest in the visions it produced.
The Eye of Horus had yet to be wrong, regardless of how depressing or uncomfortable the glimpses it brought to Nephtys of the future. Or, indeed, of the present.
Wistfully, she gazed down into the sparkling clear water that rippled gently in the bowl as though the god himself blew softly across its surface.
Would she see him today? The man she loved. The man who had traded her away without a second thought... Because at the time she’d been a lowly slave, unworthy of a high priest’s serious attentions. A quick sip of her blood, a thorough fucking, then instantly forgotten. A sensual curiosity, no more, mainly due to her snow-white skin and exotic head of wavy red hair, which he’d loved to spread across his fine linen pillow.
But to Nephtys, even then he’d been every inch the demigod he was destined to become. Black-haired and black-eyed, he nevertheless had skin that glowed with the burnished gold of the sun he so faithfully served. His robes were woven in the hues of sunrise, glittering with strands of golden threads that shot through the fabric. He was truly worthy of awe, and as a captive in his household, she had fallen in love with him the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. Still a virgin, she’d given herself to him more than willingly, always yearning for his touch, his glance, his regard. Never daring to hope for his heart, which she knew she would never possess.
But she had not expected to be discarded quite so callously. Ceded to his greatest enemy without a backward glance.
And that, more than anything else, had spurred her ambition, compelling her to rise in station, to become the most powerful priestess in the land. And now, she was the only one who possessed the secret of shifting the flesh of man to beast.
Oh, how that must chagrin the heartless bastard! Certainly, it had caused his endless attempts over the centuries since to rectify his massive error in judgment by capturing her back. But her adopted brother, Seth, guarded her carefully, sparing no expense or effort in keeping her safely out of enemy hands.
Her brother was her greatest joy.
Since that crushing day so many years ago, she had rarely allowed herself to seek her former lover’s image in the magic waters of her scrying bowl. Who needed the painful reminder of her maidenly folly? Even five millennia later, it still stung. And her heart still yearned for...that which her pride would never countenance.
Sometimes his image appeared in the waters of its own volition, giving her a glimpse into his life, usually more disturbing than helpful. But it had been ages now. Which was a good thing. For whenever his image appeared, trouble invariably followed. For her brother, Seth-Aziz. For Khepesh, But most of all, for herself...and her foolish, foolish heart.
This morning as she gazed into the bowl, the water clouded and the ripples started to swirl. A vision was being formed. She sat up and paid close attention. Abruptly, the water cleared.
In its depths, she saw the rows of silver, papyrus-shaped columns of the inner temple. Khepesh’s holy of holies. A ceremony was taking place, and she recognized the extravagant trappings of the annual Ritual of Transformation. Seth-Aziz was there, of course, leading the proceedings. A woman stood before him. To her surprise, Nephtys saw that she was a foreigner, like herself, but younger and blond. The woman was dressed in the gorgeous, embroidered stole that marked her as belonging to the High Priest of Khepesh. Her eyes were heavily made-up, her lips the color of pomegranates.
The demigod’s blood sacrifice.
The woman appeared singularly unhappy. And frightened out of her wits.
Then she looked up and her green eyes flared with hope—along with something that looked a lot like... love. And Seth returned her look of adoration.
Nephtys peered closer into the bowl, overjoyed. Finally, her brother would find a woman worthy of his love and devotion! Could this be the woman who would become Seth-Aziz’s consort, destined to sit at his side for the rest of her existence, sharing her body with him, as well as her life’s blood?
The vision abruptly cut to the future. Yes! The woman had become Seth’s consort. The demigod and his bride—appearing somewhat older now and without her elaborate makeup—were seated in raised chairs in the audience chamber, holding hands affectionately.
But the consort was speaking to a crowd of shouting, terrified followers. Something bad was about to befall the palace. Amazingly, when she spoke the people quieted and listened to her, and their agitation calmed visibly.
The high priest’s future consort was obviously a very wise woman, destined to gain the respect of her husband’s flock. Though what advice she was giving, and toward what end, only time would tell. The visions allowed Nephtys to see, but not to hear what was going on, so she could only guess at what was happening. But it looked grim for Khepesh. Such anxiety among the people could only mean one thing.
War.
Nephtys’s stomach sank.
Seth-Aziz had but one enemy left. And that enemy had only one reason to wage war upon her brother.
Nephtys, herself.
A shiver went through her, sending tingles of forbidden joy through her flesh. Secretly, in her heart of hearts, a bud of unwilling exhilaration unfurled.
Soon, Haru-Re, high priest to Re-Horakhti, Keeper of the Sun, Guardian of the Day, and betrayer of her own heart, would be here.
Her lover was coming for her again. And this time she feared—and prayed—he would succeed.