“Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
At Gillian’s hushed but urgently spoken words, Rhys glanced around to make sure they were alone. As promised, he’d picked her up in the temple right after the morning meal, ostensibly to show her the rest of the palace, introduce her to her new way of life, and outline the duties expected of her. He’d spent the hours before breakfast locked in the council chambers together with Seth and the others, planning strategies to deal with the ultimatum Haru-Re had laid down yesterday when he’d appeared at Rhys’s house—either hand over Nephtys or go to war.
There had been no opportunity to talk to Seth about any other issue.
“Nephtys knows,” Gillian said now as they strolled through the palace pretending to look at the magnificent sights it offered. “I know she does.”
“Darling, what makes you say that?” Rhys asked.
Gillian frowned worriedly. “She wouldn’t look at me the whole time we ate, and she barely spoke to me all morning. Plotting my sacrifice, no doubt. Except in this ceremony I don’t survive to become consort.”
He winced. She had no idea how right on the mark she could be if their guilty secret were revealed. Which was why the two of them must not make love again. Not until Seth had given his blessing. “I’m sure Nephtys is just worried about Haru-Re’s threat,” he said. “I understand there’s some history there. I’ve heard her say she’d rather give up eternal life altogether than go back to serve him.”
Gillian blinked. “You can do that? Give up immortality?”
“Well, quasi-immortality. Don’t forget, we can be killed if certain methods are employed.” A thought that had been uppermost in his mind that morning. Seth was not a violent man by nature, but even he had his limits. “Otherwise, immortality is all a matter of maintenance.” Rhys didn’t like thinking about the tenuousness of their state of being, either. Too many things could go awry—as evidenced by the fact that Khepesh and Petru were the last two remaining of the thousands of ancient per netjer that had once flourished in Egypt. “If the ceremonies are not performed and the correct incantations not recited in a timely fashion, the magic simply fades away. Eventually you become mortal again, and pick up where you left off. More or less.”
She blinked again. “Wow. Seriously?”
“That’s why banishment from Khepesh is...undesirable.”
“No kidding.”
“Of course, being drained completely of one’s blood by an angry vampire is probably a worse fate,” he muttered with a shrug.
Her jaw dropped in horror. “What?”
Oops. Had he said that aloud?
She covered her eyes with unsteady fingers. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
He forced a smile and tapped the end of her nose. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t done that in nearly a millennium. And he did it to someone who’d deserted to the enemy camp, a traitor to the god. Seth had no choice but to avenge the insult.”
She dropped her fingers. “What about an insult to him personally? Oh, Rhys, we are so screwed.”
“Have a little faith,” he told her. “This thing with Haru-Re may provide the means to distract Seth.”
“Dear God, I hope so.”
They’d arrived in a huge, three-story room canted by galleries and filled floor-to-ceiling with rows and rows of bookshelves. Some contained books, some files of papers, some ancient papyrus rolls. Several wooden tables were scattered throughout the room and galleries, with a handful of people reading or studying at them.
Gillian looked at it all in astonishment. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked.
“Five thousand years worth of historical documentation,” he affirmed, recalling that she was a student of history. “The most complete library of its kind in existence. Other than the one maintained by Haru-Re at Petru.”
To his surprise, her eyes became misty. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Do you have any idea how incredible this is?”
“A bit.”
Moved by her sincere reaction, he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her forehead, acknowledge her wonderstruck awe at the discovery of such historical bounty. But the eyes of everyone in the room had lifted and were on them. He crossed his arms. “One can lose oneself for decades and not even scratch the surface. Believe me, I’ve done it.”
She dabbed the corner of her eye with an embarrassed laugh. “Well, at least I’ll never be bored living here.”
“That,” he said, “is a certainty.” He paused. “But today, I thought we’d take a look at one particular book.”
She gave him a curious look as he led her deep into the stacks to a section that dealt with everything known about Petru, the palace of Haru-Re. He pulled out a thick, heavy, parchment book and laid it on a nearby table.
“What is this?” she asked as he carefully opened it, revealing handwritten pages containing lists of names and dates.
He found the last entry and started to leaf back from there. “It is a register of Petru’s initiates—the ones we know of—and the approximate dates they were admitted to the per netjer of Re-Horakhti.” He looked gravely at her. “When did you say your mother disappeared?”
She stared at him, a terrible understanding slowly twisting her face. “You think she was taken captive by Haru-Re?”
“I don’t know,” Rhys answered truthfully. “Ray hasn’t usually taken captives, either, unless desperate. It’s too risky. But in that photo you found, the man with your mother was one of his most trusted lieutenants. Why would she be with him if she hadn’t joined the per netjer?”
Gillian’s troubled gaze went to the book. “Nineteen-ninety,” she told him. “But if she went to Petru, it was not willingly. She would never have left our family.”
“Let’s see if she’s even listed.” He ran his finger down the handful of entries for the correct year. “Our information is not always complete.”
But Gillian was way ahead of him. She let out a soft cry and put a shaking finger on the page. “Oh, my God! Her name is here!” She looked up at him in dismay. “Oh, Rhys, my mother is being held by that madman!”