Nefertiti

Chapter Sixteen

Peret, Season of Growing

THE ROYAL BARGES were readied for the journey south. Panahesi and Kiya were given their own boat, the Dazzling Aten, in which to sail. I stood on the quay and asked my sister how Akhenaten would know the right spot for the building.

“Obviously, it will be near the Nile,” she snapped. “Between Memphis and Thebes on land upon which no other Pharaoh has built.”

She was angry with me because I’d refused to go, and my father hadn’t made me.

As the barges set sail, the king’s pennants with images of Aten whipped back and forth in the wind. Hundreds of soldiers and workers were going. They’d be left in the desert to begin building Amarna. I waved at Nefertiti from the quay and she stared back, refusing to raise her hand to me. When the barges slipped over the horizon, I went into the gardens, wondering about seeds. Gardens for the new city would have to be started…

A palace worker watched me from the shade beneath a sycamore. “May I help you, my lady?” The old man came over, his kilt stained with soil. His nails were full of earth. A true gardener. “You are the Sister of the King’s Chief Wife,” he said. “The one the women go to for remedies.”

I glanced at in him surprise. “How did you—”

“I have seen the herbs you grow in pots,” he admitted. “They are all medicinal.”

I nodded. “Yes. Once in a while women come to me for help.”

He smiled, as if he knew that it was more than once in a while; that sometimes different women came six and seven times a day for the plants that Ipu procured for me in the markets. My pots weren’t big enough to fit all the herbs I would’ve like to have planted, but she found the rest among the busy vendors on the quay. I looked across the royal gardens and sighed. There would be no green in the wide stretch of desert between Thebes and Memphis. And who knew how long it would be before markets sprang up that would sell raspberry leaf or acacia? I looked down at the goldenrods and moringa. In Amarna, there would be only weeds and tamarisk plants for company. “May I take some cuttings with me when I go?”

“To the new city of Amarna, my lady?”

I stood back, to get a better look at this servant. “You hear a lot in these gardens.”

The old man shrugged. “The general likes to walk here at times and we talk together.”

“General Nakhtmin?” I asked quickly.

“Yes. He comes from the barracks, my lady.” He turned his eyes south, and I followed his gaze to a row of squat buildings. “He likes to sit here beneath the acacias.”

“Why? What does he do?”

“Sometimes I think he is looking.” The old servant fixed his sharp eyes on mine, as if he knew something he wasn’t saying. “But not so much lately. The general has been very busy lately.”

Busy shutting down the temples of Amun, I thought, and wondered if that’s what the gardener meant. I studied his face, but a lifetime of practice had made it unreadable. “What is your name?” I asked the old man.

“Ahmose.”

“And do you know where the general is now?”

Ahmose smiled widely at me. “I believe the general is with his soldiers, my lady. They are standing outside the palace leading in the petitioners.”

“But Pharaoh is gone.”

“The petitioners are seeing the great vizier Ay. Would my lady like me to take her to see them?”

I thought for a moment, imagining Nefertiti’s response if she knew I’d been to see the general. “Yes, take me to see them.”

“And the cuttings?” he asked.

“You can leave them with Ipu, my body servant.”

The gardener put down his tools and led the way to the gates of Malkata. We approached a large arch at the end of the garden, and when we emerged it looked like the bird market back in Akhmim. Every variety of petitioner had come to ask a favor of the new Pharaoh. There were women with children, old men on donkeys, a boy playing grab-me with his sister, weaving in and out of the sun-wearied crowds.

I stood back in surprise. “Is it always like this?”

The gardener patted the dirt off his kilt. “More often than not. Of course,” he added, “there are more petitioners now that the Elder has passed.” We crossed the busy courtyard and saw that there were people as far as the eye could see, including wealthy women with gold bracelets that made music on their arms and poor women in simple rags who muttered unkindly at children as they scampered around them. Ahmose led us to a shady corner beneath the palace roof where the misbehaving sons of noblewomen were wrestling each other into the dirt. They paid no heed to us. One boy rolled over my sandal, smearing it with dust.

Ahmose cried out, “Your dress, my lady!”

I laughed. “I don’t mind.”

The gardener stared, but I wasn’t Nefertiti. I shook off the dirt and studied the courtyard. “Why are the wealthy in one line and the poor in another?”

“The poor want simple things,” Ahmose explained. “A new well, a better dam. But the wealthy are asking to keep their positions at court.”

“Unfortunately, Pharaoh will still dismiss most of them,” someone said in my ear.

I turned, and the general was standing behind me. “And why would he dismiss them?” I asked earnestly.

“Because all of these men once worked for his father.”

“And he can’t abide anything that was once his father’s,” I reasoned. “Not even his father’s capital.”

“Amarna.” Nakhtmin watched me intently. “The viziers say he wants the new palace built within the year.”

“Yes.” I bit my lip so I wouldn’t say anything against the ambitions of my family, then stepped closer. “And what is the news from the temples?” I asked quietly.

“The temples of Amun all across Egypt have been sealed.”

I tried to imagine it: temples that had stood since the time of Hatshepsut boarded up and their holy waters left to dry. What would become of all the statues to Amun and the priests who’d once paid obeisance to them? How would the god know we still wanted his guidance? I closed my eyes and sent a silent prayer to the god who had watched over us for two thousand years. “And the temples of Isis? And Hathor?” I asked him.

“Destroyed.”

I covered my mouth. “Were many killed?”

“Not by me,” he said firmly as a soldier came toward us.

“General,” he called, and when he saw me his eyes lit up with surprise. He executed a hasty bow. “Lady Mutnodjmet, your father is in the Audience Chamber. If you are looking for him—”

“I am not looking for him.”

The soldier passed Nakhtmin a curious look.

“What did you need?” Nakhtmin asked the soldier.

“There is a woman who claims to be a cousin of the Elder’s, but she’s wearing neither gold nor silver and has no cartouche to identify herself. I placed her in line with the others, but she says she belongs—”

“Place her with the nobility. If she is lying, she will pay the price when her petition is revoked. Warn her of that before you move her.”

The soldier bowed. “Thank you, General. My lady.”

He left, and I noticed that Ahmose the gardener was gone.

“Shall I take you back to the palace?” Nakhtmin asked. “A hot, dirty courtyard full of petitioners is no place for the Sister of the King’s Chief Wife.”

I raised my brows. “Then what is my place?”

He took my arm and we walked together in the shade of the gardens. “With me.” We stopped beneath the acacias. “You are tired of being handmaiden to your sister. Otherwise, you would be with her now. Choosing the site for Amarna.”

“There can be no future for us, General—”

“Nakhtmin,” he corrected me, taking my hands, and I let him.

“We’re going to the desert soon,” I warned. “We’ll be living in tents.”

He pulled me toward him. “I have lived in tents and barracks since I was twelve years old.”

“But there will not be the freedom we have here.”

“What?” He laughed. “Do you think I just want to meet you for secret trysts?”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to marry you,” he said simply.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his skin against mine. In the gardens, there was no one to see us. “She will never let me go,” I warned him.

“I am one of the highest-ranking generals in Pharaoh’s army. My ancestors were viziers, and before that they were scribes. I am no common mercenary. Every Pharaoh has married his sisters and daughters to generals in the army as a way of protecting the royal family.”

“Not this Pharaoh,” I said, thinking of Akhenaten’s fear of the army. “This royal family is not like any other.”

“Then you don’t belong with them.” His lips brushed against mine, and far behind us the hundreds of petitioners disappeared.

We didn’t leave the gardens until the sun had nearly set, setting the sky ablaze in violet and red. When I was late returning to my chamber, Ipu was in a state.

“I nearly sent the guards after you, my lady!”

I grinned, tossing my linen cloak onto the bed. “Oh, there was no need for that.” I met her glance.

“My lady. You weren’t with the general?”

I stifled a giggle. “Yes.” Then I lost my enthusiasm, realizing what this would mean.

Ipu whispered, “What of Pharaoh?”

“Nefertiti will have to convince him,” I said.

Ipu found a fresh robe in one the baskets and draped it over my shoulders, watching me with concern.

“I’m fifteen already!”

Ipu kept watching. She sat down on the edge of a gold and ebony chair, folding her hands in front of her. “I am thinking this will not go well, my lady.”

I felt some of the color drain from my face, remembering Nakhtmin’s strong arms around me. “I can’t be her handmaiden forever!” I exclaimed. “She has a husband and a family and a hundred doting servants! She has endless noblewomen waiting for her appearance so they can run off and copy her robes, her hair, her latest earrings. What does she need me for?”

“She will always need you.”

“But it isn’t what I want! I don’t need this!” I flung my arm to encompass the heavy woven tapestries and bright ivory lamps. “No.” I shook my head. “She will have to accept it. She will have to convince him.”

Ipu’s face tightened. “Be careful. Think of the general’s position.”

“We will wait until the move is complete. Then I will tell her.”

“And if he is dismissed?”

If he was dismissed, then I would know where I stood in my family.

When Nefertiti returned to Thebes, she was furious. She paced my chamber, kicking at a stray piece of coal from the brazier and enjoying the dark streak it left along the floor. It was Akhenaten’s time with Kiya and he had not come back early, as he usually did.

“He wants to build her a palace,” she seethed.

“So then you will let him,” my father replied. He steadied her with his sharp blue eyes.

“A palace!” She turned. “An entire palace?”

“Let him build her a palace,” my father said. “Who says it has to be in the city?”

Nefertiti’s eyes grew wide. “It could be to the north. It could be outside the city even.”

“But inside the walls,” my father clarified.

“All right. But the walls will be wide,” she warned. She collapsed into a chair and looked into the brazier’s glowing flames. “The army is being sent to Amarna,” she said casually.

My breath caught in my throat. “What? When do they leave?” There was too much haste in my voice, and Nefertiti regarded me suspiciously.

“Tomorrow,” she replied. “As soon as the servants pack, we will leave after them. I don’t trust Panahesi. I want to see that every coin in the treasury is going into the building and not into his pocket.”

“Then Tiye and I will be staying behind in Thebes,” my father said. “We can’t hear petitioners—”

“Dismiss the petitioners! I need you there with me.”

“Impossible. Do you want a nation wealthy enough to build a new city or a nation on the brink of starvation?”

Nefertiti stood up. She wore her crown indoors, even with us, her own family. “Egypt will never be on the brink of starvation. Let the petitioners wait. Let the foreign governments find us in Amarna if they want us so badly.”

My father shook his head and Nefertiti sank ungracefully into the chair.

“Then who will I have?” she bemoaned.

“You’ll have your servants. You’ll have Mutnodjmet.”

She glanced at me. “Did you see the plans for the villas? One will be for you,” she said. “Of course, you’ll spend most of the time in the palace. I’ll need help. Especially now.” She looked down at her belly with tenderness. “Now that a son is on its way.”

My father and I stood up at once and I exclaimed, “You are pregnant?”

Nefertiti lifted her chin proudly. “Two months. I’ve already told mother. Even Akhenaten knows.” She narrowed her eyes. “He can go to Kiya every night of the month, but I am the one who is pregnant with his son. Two children. And all Kiya has given him is one.”

I looked at my father, who said nothing about Kiya, even though I was sure I’d heard whisperings among the servants of how strange it was that since our family had come to court, Kiya had not fallen pregnant again. But my father’s face showed nothing but pleasure.

Senet boards and heavy thrones, cedar tables with dozens of chairs and lamps—all were loaded onto heavily weighted barges that floated north toward the city that wasn’t even a city. I stood and watched Malkata stripped of its most glorious treasures and tried to imagine what my aunt must be feeling, watching the rooms she and her husband had furnished emptied on a young Pharaoh’s whim. She stood with my father on the balcony of the Per Medjat, and they both surveyed the chaos in silence; her blue stare unnerved me.

“You won’t be coming north then, Your Highness?”

“No. I won’t be sleeping in a tent waiting for a palace to be built from the sand. Your father can go.”

I was surprised. “You’ll be coming with us then?” I asked my father.

“Only to see what’s been done so far,” he replied.

“But it’s only been a month.”

“And there are thousands of workers already building. They will have cut the roads and built houses by now.”

“When you have the entire army at your disposal,” my aunt said sharply, “it’s amazing what can be done.”

“And the Hittites?” I asked fearfully.

Tiye glared at my father. “We will simply have to hope our new queen will show my son the wisdom in defending our territories.” It was clear from her tone that she expected no such thing.

Nefertiti has not done what she was supposed to, I thought. Instead of risking her place as Chief Wife to sway Pharaoh, she’s protected it by goading him on. All three of us looked down on Akhenaten, instructing his Nubian guards, and I heard my aunt heave a heavy sigh. I wondered how much of it was regret over choosing Nefertiti as Chief Wife the day she’d come to visit us in Akhmim. She might have chosen any of the palace girls. Even Kiya. My father turned toward me.

“Go,” he suggested. “Go and pack, Mutnodjmet.”

I returned to my chamber and sat on my bed, looking at my windowsill where my little pots of herbs had been. They had been so many places with me. First in Thebes, then Memphis, then back to Thebes, and soon to the desert city of Amarna.

The site that Akhenaten had chosen for his capital was surrounded by hills. There were overhanging cliffs to the north and copper-colored dunes to the south. The Nile ran along the western edge of our new city, where goods from Memphis and Thebes could be brought. In the midst of the endless stretches of sand, a road had been built, big enough to fit three chariots side by side. It was the Royal Road, Nefertiti said, and when it was completed it would run through the center of the entire city. It was a road unlike any ever created, just as this would be a city unlike anything that had ever come before it, a jewel on the east bank of the Nile that would write our family’s name in eternity. “When future generations speak of Amarna,” she vowed, “they will speak of Nefertiti and Akhenaten the Builder.”

The workmen’s village was to the east. As my father had predicted, there were hundreds of workers’ houses already built, and the barracks for the soldiers had been placed at the edge of the city. To the south, the villas of the nobility were being constructed around the beginnings of a palace, and in the midst of it all, surrounded by palms and giant oaks, lay the half-built Temple of Aten. An avenue of sphinxes led to its gates, where my sister would travel by chariot every morning to do obeisance to Aten. Even with the help of the army, I didn’t see how it had all been done.

“How could they have done this in such little time?”

“Look at the construction,” my father said tersely.

I squinted. “Cheap?”

“Mud brick and sandstone talatat. And instead of taking the time to create raised reliefs, they’ve cut them into the rock.”

I turned, holding my robe down in the wind. “And you allowed it?” I asked him.

“What is to allow with Akhenaten? It’s his city.”

We looked down over the building and I said thoughtfully, “No, it’s all our city now. It is with him that our names will be remembered.”

My father didn’t reply. Tonight he would sail the Nile toward Thebes and return only when the palace was finished. And who knew when that might be. Five months? A year?

Our procession of viziers, followed by nobility and a thousand court servants, turned into the walled City of Tents. Then we crossed on foot over the rolling landscape to the brightly colored pavilions of the royal court. The soldiers’ tents were set up outside the wall in rings, three tents deep, and as we passed through the gates I wondered which was Nakhtmin’s. We stopped before the Great Pavilion where the court of Amarna would dine.

“So what do you think?” Nefertiti asked at last.

“Your husband has large aspirations,” our father said, and only I knew what he really meant. That it was a cheap, quick city, a pale shadow of Thebes.

Two soldiers parted the curtains of the Great Pavilion. Newly polished tables stretched over rugs and tiled flooring. The walls had been covered with tapestries. At the longest table, Akhenaten was pouring himself wine. He was smug in his confidence as he raised his cup. “So how does the great vizier find the new city?”

My father was the perfect courtier. “The roads are very wide,” he replied.

“Three chariots can ride abreast,” he boasted, seating himself. “Maya says if we push, the palace will be done by the beginning of Mesore.”

My father hesitated. “You’ll get poor quality and half finished monuments.”

“What does it matter,” he hissed, “so long as the temple and the palace are built to last? The workers can rebuild their houses. I want this city before I die.”

My father pointed out, “Your Highness, you are only nineteen—”

Akhenaten brought down his fist on the table in front of him. “And I am hunted at every hour! Do you really think I’m safe among the soldiers? Do you think General Nakhtmin wouldn’t try to turn my men against me if he were given the chance? And then the priests of Amun,” Akhenaten continued. “How many might escape the quarries to come hunt me in my sleep? In my own pavilion? In the halls of my own palace?”

Nefertiti laughed nervously. “This is foolishness, Akhenaten. You have the best guards in Egypt.”

“Because they are Nubians! The only men who are loyal to me are outside of Egypt!” Akhenaten’s eyes flashed and I looked to my father. He had dropped his perfect courtier’s mask and I could see what he was thinking. The Pharaoh of Egypt had become insane. “Who can I trust?” Akhenaten demanded. “My wife. My daughter. The High Priest of Aten and you.” He whirled on my father. “Who else?”

My father met his gaze. “There’s an army of men waiting for you to lead them. They trust you and believe in your will to conquer and keep the Hittites at bay. They will do whatever you ask.”

“And I am asking them to build the greatest city in Egypt! Nefertiti tells me you are returning to Thebes. When?”

“Tonight. Until the palace is finished, it is the wisest thing, Your Highness.”

Akhenaten set down his wine. “Isn’t my mother in Thebes?”

Nefertiti glanced at my father.

“I don’t like the idea of the two of you there,” Akhenaten admitted. “In the former capital of Egypt. Alone.”

Nefertiti moved quickly around the side of the table. “Akhenaten, it is better this way. Do you want foreign leaders to send their ambassadors to meet us in pavilions? What will the ambassadors think? If they come to Amarna before it’s finished, imagine what they will report back home to their kings.”

Akhenaten looked at his wife and then at his trusted vizier. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “No dignitary must see Amarna before it’s finished.” But his dark eyes met my father’s. “You will not be taking Mutny.”

My father smiled easily. “No,” he replied. “Mutny stays here.”

Akhenaten was afraid my father would take me to Thebes as his heir, and then crown himself Pharaoh to reign with Tiye. So I am to be his hostage, I thought. Nefertiti colored at the idea that my father would ever choose me over her. She swept past Akhenaten, hooking her arm through our father’s and said sharply, “Come. I will see you off.”

Akhenaten rose to join us, and Nefertiti leveled him with her gaze.

We stood on the quay and my eyes filled with tears. It was possible that my father would be gone for months, and suddenly I found myself wishing as much as Akhenaten did that the palace would be finished.

“Don’t be sad, little cat.” My father kissed the top of my head. “You have your mother and sister.”

“And you will come back,” my mother’s voice was constricted, “just as soon as the palace is finished?”

He cupped her chin in his palm, brushing her hair from her face with his thumb. “I promise. It is business I’m going for. If I didn’t have to—”

Nefertiti stepped forward, interrupting their moment. “Good-bye, Father.”

My father gave a parting look to my mother, then turned to Nefertiti. He embraced her. “Your time will be near when I return,” he said.

She rested her hand on her stomach. “An heir for the throne of Egypt,” she said proudly.

We watched the ship set sail. As the barge disappeared over the horizon, Akhenaten came to stand next to me. “He is a loyal vizier.” He put his arms around my shoulders and I tensed. “Isn’t that right, Mutnodjmet?”

I nodded.

“I hope so,” he whispered. “Because if he should try to make a move for the crown, it wouldn’t be my wife who would suffer the consequences.”

“My lady!” Ipu cried. “My lady, sit down. You are shaking.”

I took a seat on my bed and put my hands beneath my legs. “Would you make me some tea?”

Ipu lit the brazier. Once she’d boiled a pan of water, she poured it into a cup with leaves. “You look ill,” she said quietly, bringing me the tea and inviting my confidence.

I lifted the cup to my lips and drained it. “It’s nothing,” I said. Only an empty threat. My father was no traitor. “Was anyone here to visit today?” I asked her.

“Like the general?”

My eyes flew to the door and she lowered her voice.

“No. I’m sorry. Perhaps he can’t get through the royal camp with so many guards.”

A shadow lengthened outside the door of our pavilion. Someone pushed back the flap and Merit appeared.

“My lady, the queen wishes to see you,” she said. “The young princess has earache and the queen is ill. Pharaoh has asked for a physician, but she’s said she’ll only have you.”

“Tell her I’m coming,” I said at once. Merit disappeared, and I rummaged through my boxes. I took out mint for Meritaten. But what for Nefertiti? “I don’t know why she should be sick,” I mumbled. She was only two months. She had carried Meritaten for five months before ever feeling ill.

“Perhaps it is a son,” Ipu said. I nodded. Yes. Perhaps that was the sign. I took out the fenugreek, shoving the dried herbs into several pouches.

The Nubian guards parted to let me inside the Royal Pavilion where the royal couple slept. At the bed, Akhenaten was standing over Nefertiti, holding her while she heaved into a cup. It was a strangely tender scene—this man, who thought nothing of sending men to their death, hovering over his queen while she was sick.

“Mutny, the herbs.” Nefertiti groaned.

Akhenaten watched me unwrap the herbs. “What are they?”

“Fenugreek, Your Highness.”

He snapped his fingers twice without taking his eyes from my face and two guards entered into the pavilion. “Test them.”

I gaped at Nefertiti, who said sharply, “She’s my sister. She’s not going to poison me.”

“She’s a rival to the crown.”

“She’s my sister and I trust her!” Nefertiti’s voice brooked no argument. “And when she’s done, she will go to the nurse’s tent for Meritaten.”

The guards stepped back. Akhenaten said nothing as I boiled water, steeping the herbs to make a tea. I brought it to my sister and she drank it completely. Akhenaten watched us from across the pavilion. “You don’t have to watch us,” Nefertiti snapped. “Go find Maya and look over the plans for the villa.”

Akhenaten passed me a look of deep hatred, then swept through the tent flap and was gone.

“You shouldn’t shout while I am here,” I told her. “He’ll think it’s me that makes you angry with him.”

“It’s his obsession with assassination that makes me angry. He suspects everyone.”

“Even your own sister?”

She heard the criticism in my voice and said defensively, “He is Pharaoh of Egypt. No one faces the danger that he does, for nobody’s visions are grander than his.”

I raised my brows. “Or more expensive.”

“What is expense? We’re building a city that will last through eternity. Longer than you or I ever will.”

“You are building a city of cheap material,” I replied. “A city as cheap as it is quick.”

“Is this Father talking?” she demanded. “Does he think this city is cheap?”

“Yes. And what if we’re invaded? Where will the gold come from to defend ourselves?”

She sat up. “I won’t hear of this. I am carrying Egypt’s future in my belly and you are going on as if it’s doomed to failure! You’re just jealous! You’re jealous that I have a beautiful little girl and a son on the way, and you are nearly sixteen and Father has not even decided who you shall marry!”

I stepped back, stung. “He hasn’t decided who I shall marry because of you. He wants me here with you, waiting hand and foot on you, giving advice to you. If I had a husband, none of that would be possible. Would it?”

We stared at one another.

“Am I dismissed?” I asked her.

“To go to Meritaten. Then you will have dinner with us,” she replied.

It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

“What are you looking for, my lady?”

“My cloak. I’m going out.”

“But it’s nearly nighttime. You can’t go out now,” Ipu cried. “It could be dangerous.”

“My sister has plenty of guards. I’ll take one of them.” I picked up my basket for collecting herbs and Ipu trailed after me. “Shall I come instead?”

“Only if you feel like a walk.” I didn’t look behind me to see whether she had come, but I could hear her footsteps. She caught up to me at the gates. “You can’t go into a man’s camp—”

“I’m the Sister of the King’s Chief Wife,” I retorted. “I can do what I want.”

“My lady,” Ipu’s voice was desperate. “My lady.” She put her hand out to stop me. “Please, let me go instead. Let me give him a message.”

Outside the walls, fires were being lit in the soldiers’ camp. One of those fires belonged to the general. I stopped and wondered what message I should give him. “Tell him…” I bit my lip and thought. “Tell him that I accept.”

“What do you accept?” she asked cautiously.

“Just tell him I accept and to come tonight.”

Ipu’s eyes grew wide as cups. “To your pavilion?”

“Yes. He can say he is coming to see Pharaoh.”

“But won’t they know?” Ipu glanced at a nearby soldier.

“Perhaps. But the guards at the gate are his men and they despise Akhenaten. They will turn their heads the other way. That I promise.”

Amun must have been watching over me that night, because the fanfare and music accompanying our regular meals was mercifully short. Nefertiti ignored me while everyone laughed, telling stories about Memphis and what Amarna would be like once it was finished. Nevertheless, I walked Nefertiti back to the Royal Pavilion, and as we stepped into the chill night she shivered. Four guards stood back and two held open the flap leading into the Royal Pavilion. I walked Nefertiti to her large bed hung with linen. “Come and rub my back,” she requested.

I took off my cloak and began with her shoulders. They were tense, even for a woman with child.

“I wish Father was here,” she complained. “He’d understand how difficult this all is. The building and planning. He understands me.”

“And I don’t?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be queen.”

“So Father does?”

“Father rules this kingdom. Even without the crook or flail, he is Pharaoh of Egypt.”

“And I’m just a handmaiden to my sister,” I said sharply.

She tensed. “Why are you so bitter?”

“Because I’m sixteen years old and no one has planned my future!” I stopped rubbing the oil into her back. “Your future is all laid out. You’re queen. Someday you’ll be a mother to a king. And what will I be?”

“The Sister of the King’s Chief Wife!”

“But who will I love?”

She sat up, taken aback. “Me.”

I stared at her. “And what about a family?”

“I’m your family.” She lay down again, expecting me to rub. “Warm the oil. It’s cold.”

I closed my eyes and did as I was told. I wasn’t going to complain, not when it would only prolong my time in the Great Pavilion. I waited until Nefertiti fell asleep, then I washed my hands and crept outside into the cool Phamenoth night. In my own pavilion, Ipu was waiting. She stood up as soon as she saw me.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispered. “Do you still want him to come?”

I had never been more certain. “Yes.”

Ipu’s hands flew around her in excitement. “Then I should braid your hair, my lady.”

I sat down on my feathered cushion and couldn’t sit still. I had already told Ipu what the general had said. Now I told her that I wanted a quiet life. “A life away from any palace in a place where I can tend my herb garden and—”

There was the crunch of boots on gravel and we both turned. Ipu dropped my braids in her hands. “He’s here!”

I grabbed the mirror to check my appearance. “How do I look?”

Ipu searched my face. “Like a young woman ready to meet her lover,” she said with slight consternation. “If your father—”

“Shh,” I remonstrated. “Not now!” I dropped the mirror. “Open the tent.”

Ipu went to the door and the general’s voice came softly through hangings. “And you are sure that she sent for me?”

“Of course. She is waiting for you inside.”

Nakhtmin showed himself in. Then Ipu disappeared as I had instructed, and I held my breath. The general stood before me and bowed. “My lady.”

Suddenly, I was very nervous. “Nakhtmin.”

“You sent for me?”

“I have thought over your proposal,” I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. “And what has my lady decided?” he asked.

“I have decided that I am done being the handmaiden to Nefertiti.”

He stared at me in the firelight. In the glow of the flames, his hair was like copper. “Have you told your father this?”

My cheeks warmed. “Not yet.”

He thought of Nefertiti. “And I suspect the queen will be angry.”

“To say nothing of Akhenaten,” I added. I looked up into his face and he wrapped his arms around me, grinning. “But what if we are banished?” I asked him.

“Then we will go back to Thebes. I will sell the land I inherited from my father and we will buy a farm. One that is all ours, miw-sher, and we’ll have a quiet life away from the court and all its entanglements.”

“But you will no longer be a general,” I warned.

“And you will no longer be Sister to the King’s Chief Wife.”

We were quiet, clasping hands by the fire. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his, and he stayed until the early hours of the dawn. It was the same throughout that entire month of Phamenoth and into Pharmuthi: The guards would look the other way and smile as he made his way to my tent. Sometimes when he came, we talked by the brazier, and I asked him what the men thought of Akhenaten.

“They stay because they are paid so well,” he said. “It’s the only thing that keeps them from revolt. They want to fight. But they’re willing to build so long as the gold keeps coming.”

“And Horemheb?”

Nakhtmin heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose that Horemheb is far to the north.”

“Killed?”

“Or fighting. Either way”—he stared into the flames of our small fire—“he is gone and Pharaoh has what he wanted.”

I was quiet for a moment. “And what do the men say about my sister?”

He glanced sideways at me, to gauge how much I really wanted to know. “They are under her spell the same as Pharaoh.”

“Because she is beautiful?”

He watched me carefully. “And entertaining. She goes into the workers’ villages and tosses deben of silver and gold into the streets. But she would do better to toss them bread, for there’s little to buy, even with all the gold in Egypt.”

“Is there a shortage?” I asked.

He glanced at me.

“I didn’t know.” In the royal camp, there was plenty of everything: meats, fruits, breads, wines.

“Until the population of Thebes moves north, there will always be a shortage. There are few bakers and no place to house them even if there were more.”

A shadow appeared outside the tent and Nakhtmin rose. His hand flew to his sword.

“My lady?” It was only Ipu. She pushed aside the flap and looked at Nakhtmin, blushing although he was fully clothed. “The queen is asking for you, my lady. She wants her tea.”

I looked at Nakhtmin. “She doesn’t want tea. She only wants to gloat that they’ve nearly finished the palace.”

“She could be an ally to us,” he said practically. “Go,” he suggested, “and I will see you tomorrow.” He stood up and my eyes filled with tears. Nakhtmin said kindly, “It’s not forever, miw-sher. You said yourself the palace is nearly finished. In a few days, then, your father will be here and we will go to him.”

Nefertiti wasn’t due to give birth until Thoth, but she walked through the camp as if the child might come any day. Everyone had to stand three paces back when they were near her, and work in the city stopped when she went past, so that the noise of the hammers wouldn’t disturb the unborn child. She was convinced that it would be a prince, and Akhenaten catered to her every need, ordering her wool from Sumer and the softest linen from the weavers of Thebes. Then she tested her power by demanding that he stop visiting Kiya in the pavilion across the road, in case her worry should hurt the child.

“Could it happen?” Akhenaten came upon me at the well. Though we had servants for fetching water, I enjoyed the musty scent of the earth. I lowered my bucket and shaded my eyes.

“Could what happen, Your Majesty?”

He looked across the lotus pond that had been built in the midst of our camp. “Could she lose the child if I were to upset her?”

“Anything could happen, Your Majesty, if she were upset enough.”

He hesitated. “How upset?”

He misses Kiya, I thought. She listens to his poems and draws him into her quiet world while Nefertiti’s world never stops. “I suppose it depends on how fragile she is.”

We both looked at Nefertiti, her small powerful body moving across the camp, trailed by seven guards.

She came up to us and Akhenaten grinned, as if he hadn’t been talking about visiting Kiya. “My queen.” He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “I have news.”

Nefertiti’s eyes glittered. “What is it?”

“Maya sent word this morning.”

Nefertiti let out a little gasp. “The city is finished,” she guessed.

Akhenaten nodded. “Maya has sworn that within days the walls will be painted and we shall leave our pavilions behind.”

Nefertiti gave a small cry, but I thought at once of Nakhtmin. How would we meet once we moved? He would live with his men in the barracks and I would be trapped inside Akhenaten’s palace.

“Shall we go and see it?” Akhenaten asked eagerly. “Shall we reveal our city to the people?”

“We’ll take everyone,” Nefertiti decided. “Every vizier, every noblewoman, every child in Amarna.” She spun around to face me. “Has there been word from Father?”

“Nothing,” I replied.

She narrowed her eyes. “He hasn’t written to you secretly?”

I stared at her. “Of course not.”

“Good. I want to be the one to tell him Amarna is finished. When he sees the palace”—her face was exultant—“he will realize that Akhenaten was right. We have built the greatest city in Egypt.”

At noon, the announcement was made: The gates would be opened and Amarna would be unveiled to the people at last. A palpable excitement passed through the camp. By orders of Pharaoh, only workers and noblemen had been allowed inside the gates to see the construction. Now the palace would be revealed, along with hundreds of villas crouched in the towering hills behind it. By evening, the long procession of chariots swept through the desert, carrying viziers and noblemen, foreigners and commoners. Riding beside me in my chariot, Ipu gasped as the gates were drawn open to the city of Amarna.

The magnificent temple, with its glittering quay and its tightly packed villages, had been finished. Hundreds of white villas had been built for the nobility, and they sheltered like pearls in the folds of the hills. Everywhere was construction, everywhere were workers, but the city itself shone lustrous and white.

The procession went first to the Temple of Aten. Beneath its pillared courtyard, priests were making sacrifices to the sun. The men bowed in obeisance to Pharaoh and my sister, and they fanned away the smoke so we could see how beautifully the courtyard had been done. Moringa and pomegranate trees trimmed the wall, but most brilliant were the safflowers, yellow and cheerful in the fading light of the open court. Light had obviously been important in the design, and Akhenaten announced proudly that he was the one who had instructed Maya to build the clerestory windows inside.

“What are clerestory windows?” I whispered.

Nefertiti smiled slyly. “Come see.”

We passed from the courtyard to the inner sanctum, where the evening light streamed down from the ceiling, filtering through long windows. I had never seen anything like it.

“He is a genius,” Ipu said wonderingly.

I pressed my lips together, but there was no denying it. Nothing like it had ever been built.

Viziers and nobility walked into the temple, studying the tapestries and large mosaics while the rest of the procession waited in the courtyard.

Nefertiti was triumphant. “What do you think Father will say?” she asked.

That this is the most expensive temple ever built. But I replied, “That it is magnificent.”

She smiled; I had said what she wanted to hear. But I would never tell her that it was worth Amun’s gold, or worth Egypt’s security and her vassal states. Akhenaten came up beside us.

“Maya shall be rewarded richly,” he announced. He surveyed the fluted pillars of his temple, the wide stairways leading up to balconies where smaller sanctuaries were bathed in light. Warm air floated up from the river, wafting through the courtyard. “When the emissaries return to Assyria and Rhodes, they will know what kind of Pharaoh reigns now in Egypt.”

“And when they see the bridge”—Nefertiti opened a heavy wooden door—“they will know that a visionary planned this.” The door swung back to reveal a bridge that arched over the Royal Road, connecting the Temple of Aten to the palace. It was higher than any bridge I had ever seen, wider and more elaborate. As we walked its expanse, I had the feeling I was crossing into the future, that I was seeing my grandchildren’s lives and what their world would look like after I was gone.

In the palace, no expense had been spared. Windows swept from ceiling to floor and perfumed fountains tinkled musically in sunlit corners. There were chairs of ebony and ivory, beds inlaid with precious stone. I was shown to the room that I would have, and the chamber my parents would take, with blue glazed tiles and mosaics of hunting scenes.

“We have named it Riverside Palace,” Nefertiti said, taking me to see every corner and niche. “Kiya’s palace has been built to the north.”

“Outside the walls?” I asked warily.

She smiled. “No, but far.”

We walked through the water garden with its alabaster fountain, and I was amazed at what had been done. I couldn’t imagine how they had built it all so quickly, or how much gold it had taken. Nefertiti kept walking, pointing out statues that I should notice and brightly painted walls where her image stared back at us. The court followed jubilantly behind us, whispering and exclaiming among themselves. “And this is where the royal workshop shall be,” my sister said. “Thutmose will sculpt every part of our lives.”

“In a thousand years, our people will know what we ate and where we drank,” Akhenaten vowed. “They will even see the Royal Robing Room.” He pushed open the door to a chamber with plush red cushions and boxes for wigs. There were kohl pots, copper mirrors, silver brushes, and perfume jars arranged on cedar stands, waiting to be used. “We will offer them a glimpse into our palace, and they will feel as if they have known the rulers of Egypt for a lifetime.”

I surveyed the opulent chamber and wondered if I knew them myself. Nefertiti had spent Egypt poor for a city in the desert. It was new and it was breathtaking, but it was the sweat of soldiers that had built these walls, and painted these murals, and erected the colossal images of Akhenaten and Nefertiti so that the people would know they were always watching.

“When Thutmose is finished,” Nefertiti swore, “Egypt will know me better than any other queen. In five hundred years, I’ll be alive to them, Mutnodjmet. Living on the walls, in the palace, across the temples. I’ll be immortal not just in the Afterlife, but here in Egypt. I could build a shrine where my children and their children would go to remember me. But when they are gone, what then? This”—and Nefertiti looked up, touching the brightly painted walls—“will last until eternity.”

We passed through the doors of the Audience Chamber, and I noticed there were no images of bound Nubians on the tiles. Instead, there were images of the sun, its rays reaching down to Nefertiti and Akhenaten, kissing them in blessing. Akhenaten strode to the top of the dais and spread his arms. “When Thebans come,” he proclaimed, “every family will be given a home. Our people shall remember us as the monarchs who made them wealthy, and they will bless the city of Amarna!”

“My lady, are you ill?” Ipu ran to fetch a bowl while I held my stomach and emptied its contents two, then three times. I groaned, resting my cheek against the soft leather of my padded stool. Ipu put her hands on her hips. “What have you eaten?”

“I’ve had nothing since the tour of the palace. Goat’s cheese and nuts.”

She frowned. “And your breasts?” She tugged at the corner of my shirt. “Are they darker”—she pressed her finger against my flesh—“tender?”

My eyes went wide and a sudden fear welled up inside me. These were Nefertiti’s symptoms. This couldn’t be happening to me. Not after all the help I’d given women in this very camp. Ipu shook her head and whispered, “When was the last time you bled?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“What about the acacia?” she demanded.

“I’ve been taking it.”

“All the time?”

“I don’t know. I think. So much has happened.”

Ipu gasped. “Your father will be furious.”

My lip trembled and I buried my head in my hands, for, instinctively, I knew it was true. I had missed my blood. “And I’m my mother’s only daughter,” I explained. “She will be so upset, so lonely if—” I began to cry and Ipu took me in her arms, stroking my long hair.

“It may not be so bad,” she comforted. “No one knows better than you that there are ways to be rid of it.”

I looked up sharply. “No!” I clasped my hands across my stomach. Kill Nakhtmin’s child? “Never.”

“Then what else? If you have this child, your father will never make you a marriage!”

“Good,” I said wildly. “Then the only man who will want me is the general.”

But Ipu’s voice grew desperate. “And what about Pharaoh?”

“I have done enough for Nefertiti. It’s her turn now. She will have to convince him.”

Ipu’s look was incredulous, as if she didn’t believe it would happen.

“She has to,” I said.

I paced the tent all afternoon. Two women came for acacia and honey, and my insides turned as I handed the mixture to them, thinking of how careless I had been. Then Merit appeared; the queen was asking for me.

“She wants to know if you will be coming for dinner?”

“No,” I said, too ill with regret to face my sister. “Go and tell her that I am sick.”

Merit disappeared, and several minutes later Nefertiti parted the curtains without announcing her arrival.

“You are always sick lately.” She strode to a chair and sat down, studying me. I was sorting my herbs, and my hands trembled when they came to the acacia. “Especially at night,” she added suspiciously.

“I haven’t been well for several days.” I didn’t lie.

She watched me closely. “I hope you haven’t been taken with that general.” The color must have drained from my face because she added harshly, “This family cannot trust anyone in the army.”

“So you’ve said.”

Nefertiti studied me. “He has not come to visit you?” she demanded.

I lowered my gaze.

“He has come to visit you?” she shrieked. “In the camp?”

“What does it matter?” I snapped shut my herb box. “You have a husband, a family, a child—”

“Two children.”

“And what do I have?”

She sat back as if I had slapped her. “You have me.”

I looked around my lonely pavilion, as if she could understand. “That’s it?”

“I am Queen of Egypt.” She stood swiftly. “And you are the Sister to the King’s Chief Wife! It is your destiny to serve.”

“Says who?”

“It is Ma’at!” she exclaimed.

“Is it Ma’at to tear down the temples of Amun?”

“You will not say that,” she hissed.

“Why? Because you’re afraid the gods will be angry?”

“There is no greater god than Aten! And you had better learn to accept that. In a month, the Temple of Aten will be finished and the people will worship Aten the way they worshipped Amun—”

“And who will collect the money they give as offerings?”

“Father,” she replied.

“And who will he give the money to?”

Nefertiti’s face grew dark. “We built this city for the glory of our reign. It is our right.”

“But the people don’t want to move to Amarna. They have homes in Thebes.”

“They have hovels in Thebes! Here, we will do what no Pharaoh has ever done before! Every family that moves to Amarna will be given a home—”

I laughed meanly. “And have you seen those homes?” Nefertiti fell silent. “Have you seen the homes? You visited your palace, but you didn’t see that the homes of the workers are made of mud brick and talatat. Come Inundation, they will crumble to the ground.”

“How do you know?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t tell her it was because Father said they would, or that Nakhtmin had said the same when we’d lain in bed together.

“You don’t know that,” she triumphed. “Come. We are eating.”

A command. Not a request.

Then, before she left, she said over her shoulder, “And we will not discuss the general again. You will remain single and in my service until Father or I choose a husband for you.”

I bit my tongue against a sharp retort.

“And when is the last time you visited the princess?” she demanded.

“Yesterday.”

“You are her aunt,” she pronounced. “It goes without saying that she wants to see more of you.”

You mean you want to see more of me. She disappeared, and I sat down and looked at my little belly. “Oh, what in this world will your father say when he hears about you, little one? And how will Nefertiti convince Akhenaten that you are no threat to his reign?”

Dinner in the Great Pavilion lasted forever and I wasn’t in the mood for Thutmose, with his talk of henna and hair and the unfashionable beards on the emissaries from Ugarit. All I could think was how, in a few days, Nakhtmin wouldn’t be able to visit my pavilion. He would have to sneak into the palace, if that was even possible, and who knew how long that would last before he was caught?

I looked across the table at Nefertiti; her child would be a prince. Without my father’s consent or the king’s, mine would be the fatherless heir to nothing. A bastard child. I watched as the servants catered to Nefertiti, and a deep longing welled up inside me when Akhenaten put his arms around her shoulders and whispered softly, “My little Pharaoh,” staring down at her round stomach.

I stood up and asked to be excused.

“Now?” Nefertiti snapped. “This early? What if I have pains? What if—” She saw my expression and changed tactics. “Just stay for a game of Senet.”

“No.”

My sister pleaded. “Not even one game?”

The courtiers in the pavilion turned to look at me.

I stayed only for a single game in Nefertiti’s pavilion, which my sister won and not because I let her.

“You should try,” she complained. “It’s not fun to win all the time.”

“I do,” I said flatly.

She laughed, getting up and stretching her back. “Only Father and I are a real match,” she said, moving to the brazier. The firelight cast her shadow across the walls of the pavilion. “He’s coming soon,” she said lightly.

“You’ve had word?”

Nefertiti heard the eagerness in my voice and shrugged. “He will be here in six days. Of course, he won’t see us move into the palace…”

But I wasn’t listening to her. In six days, I would be able to tell him about his grandchild.

“A child, my little cat. Our child!” Nakhtmin was beside himself with joy. He drew me into the folds of his arms and pressed me tightly to his chest, but not so tightly as to crush the baby. “Have you told the queen?” he asked, and when he saw the ashen look on my face he frowned. “But she must be happy for you?”

“That I will be pregnant at the same time she is, sharing in my father’s attention?” I shook my head. “You don’t know Nefertiti.”

“But she will accept it. We will marry, and if Pharaoh is still angry, we will leave the city and buy a farm in the hills.”

I looked at him doubtfully.

“Don’t worry, miw-sher.” He pressed me close to him. “It’s a child. Who can resent a child?”

The next morning, I went to Nefertiti. She would be angry, but she would be furious if I told our father before her. She was in the Royal Pavilion, the morning light filtering through the walls and illuminating the chaos all around her: servants moving baskets, men packing heavy chests, and women gathering armfuls of cosmetics and linens.

“I need to speak with you,” I said.

“Not there!” she cried. Every person in the pavilion froze. She pointed wildly at a servant with linens in his arms. “Over there!”

“Where’s Akhenaten?” I asked.

“Already at the palace. We are moving tonight. You should be ready,” she said, which made my need more urgent. Once we moved, Nakhtmin couldn’t wander into my tent. The palace would be guarded. There would be gates and Akhenaten’s Nubian men, who were jealous of the army.

“Nefertiti.”

“What?” She didn’t take her eyes off the commotion. “What is it?”

I looked around to see who was listening, but the servants were making too much noise to hear us, so I said it. “I am pregnant.”

She was very still for a moment, so still I thought she hadn’t heard me. Then she dug her nails into my arm and pulled me painfully to the side. “You are what?” The cobra on her crown glittered at me with its red eyes. “It is not the general’s child,” her voice was threatening. “Tell me it’s not the general’s child!”

I said nothing and she pulled me farther away into her chamber, separated from the antechamber by hanging cloth. “Does Father know about this?” she whispered savagely.

“No.” I shook my head. “I came to you first.”

Her eyes filled with venom. “Pharaoh will be outraged.”

“We are no threat to him. All we want to do is live together and be married—”

“You have bedded a common soldier!” she shouted. “You take a man to your bed without my permission? Do you think to insult me?” She moved threateningly close. “What you do is for this family, and now you have put this family in danger.”

“This is only a child. My child.”

“Who will come to be a threat to the throne. A royal baby. The son of a general!”

I stared at her in shock. “Our grandfather was a general, and he kept the army readied and loyal to Pharaoh. Only your husband could see it as a threat. Generals have always married into the royal court!”

“Not in Amarna,” Nefertiti seethed. “Akhenaten will never have it.”

“Please, Nefertiti, you have to convince him. This child is no threat—”

She cut her hand through the air. “No. You got yourself pregnant and you will get yourself out of it. You of all people know perfectly well how to do it.”

I stared at her with wide-eyed horror. My hands flew protectively to my stomach. “You would make me do that?” I whispered.

“You are the one who made the problem with your eyes wide open. And your legs,” she added spitefully. “I should have known to keep you closer.”

I drew myself up to my fullest height. “You have a husband, a daughter, and a second child on the way, and you deny me one? One child?”

“I have denied you nothing!” She was wild with rage, and now there was only the faintest sound of moving and packing coming from beyond the cloth. “I married Akhenaten to give you everything, and you throw it all away on a commoner. You are the most selfish sister in Egypt!”

“Because I dared to love someone other than you?”

The truth was too much. She stalked across the room toward the curtains, then said over her shoulder, “You will be at the banquet tonight in the palace.”

I bit back my pride. “Will you tell him we want to get married?”

She stopped, making me ask her again.

“Will you?”

“Tonight you may have your answer,” she said. The curtain twitched closed behind her, and I was alone in the king’s inner chamber.

I went back to my pavilion and was sick to my stomach, wondering if I should find Nakhtmin at the building site and warn him.

“Of what, my lady?” Ipu asked sensibly. “And how will you get there?” She put her hands over mine. “Wait for the queen’s decision. She will ask for you. You are her sister and you’ve served her well.” Ipu handed me my clothes for the night’s celebration. “Come,” she encouraged. “Then I will see that your things are brought to the palace.”

“I want to see my mother first,” I told her. “I want you to bring her here.”

Ipu stood for a moment to measure my resolve, then nodded quietly and left.

I put on the long tunic and golden belt, then fastened a beaded necklace around my neck, rehearsing what I would say when my mother came. Her only daughter. The one child Tawaret had seen fit to give her. I studied my reflection in the mirror, a young girl with dark hair and wide green eyes. Who was she, this girl who would allow herself to become pregnant with a general’s child? I exhaled slowly and saw that my hands were shaking.

“Mutnodjmet?” My mother cast her eyes across my pavilion with disapproval. “Mutnodjmet, why haven’t you packed? We are moving tonight.”

“Ipu said she will do it while we’re gone.” I moved over on the leather bench so that she could sit next to me. “But first I want you to sit here.” I hesitated. “Because…because I have something I must tell you right now.”

She knew what I was going to say before I spoke. Her eyes traveled down to my midriff, and she covered her mouth. “You are with child.”

I nodded, and my eyes filled with tears. “Yes, mawat.”

My mother was very still, the way Nefertiti had been, and I wondered if she was going to strike me for the first time in my life. “You have slept with the general.” Her voice was flat.

My eyes pooled with tears. “We want to be married,” I said, but my mother wasn’t listening.

“Every night I watched him come into the camp and I thought that Akhenaten had beckoned him. I should have known. When has Pharaoh ever been interested in the army?” My mother searched my face. “So the guards looked the other way for you?”

Shame colored my cheeks. “It would have happened without them. We love each other—”

“Love? Commoners marry for love. And they divorce just as quickly! You are the Sister of the King’s Chief Wife! We would have married you to a prince. A prince, Mutnodjmet. You could have been a princess in the land of Egypt.”

“But I don’t want to be a princess.” My tears flooded over. “That’s Nefertiti’s dream. I’m pregnant, mawat. I’m pregnant with your grandchild and the man I love wants to carry me across the threshold of a new house to marry me.” I looked up at her. “Isn’t there any part of you that is happy?”

She pressed her lips together. Then her resolve crumbled and she took me in her arms. “Oh, Mutnodjmet, my little Mutnodjmet. A mother.” She wept tenderly. “But to what kind of a child?”

“A beloved one.”

“One that will frighten Pharaoh and outrage your sister. Nefertiti will never accept it.”

“She must,” I said firmly, pulling away. “I’m a woman. I have the right to choose my husband. This is still Egypt—”

“But it’s Akhenaten’s Egypt. Maybe if you were in Akhmim…” My mother spread her palms. “But this is the king’s city. The choices are his.”

“And Nefertiti’s,” I stressed. “By the time Father arrives, the villas will be finished. Nefertiti can convince Akhenaten to let us live there.”

“She will be angry.”

“Then she will have to learn to accept it.”

My mother picked up my hand and squeezed it. “Your father will be shocked when he returns. Two daughters, both carrying children.”

“He will be happy. Both of his daughters are fertile.”

My mother’s smile was bitter. “He would be happier if you had married a prince.”

That night there was feasting throughout the new city of Amarna. Everywhere was the sound of laughter, and as I helped my mother into a chariot I thought, Nefertiti has done this on purpose. She’s told me she will give me an answer tonight hoping I won’t reach her among all these people.

The courtyards outside the palace were filled with servants bearing platters of honeyed nuts, plump figs, and pomegranates. Thousands of men from the army drank in the streets with total abandon, singing about war and sex and love. I looked for Nakhtmin as we entered the palace, scanning the crowds for his broad shoulders and bright hair.

“He won’t be here,” my mother said. “He will be with his men.”

I flushed to realize that my thoughts were so transparent. A servant took us to the Great Hall, where table after table was filled with feasting viziers and the flirting daughters of wealthy men, all imitating my sister in the way they dressed in the sheerest of linens, hennaing their hands and feet and breasts. But the two Horus thrones on the dais were empty.

“Where is the queen?” I asked, taken aback.

“In the streets, my lady!” cried a passing servant. “They are throwing out gold!” He grinned. “To everyone.”

“Come.” My mother guided me by the arm.

I followed her to the table of honor before the dais. Panahesi was there with Kiya. So was the sculptor Thutmose and the builder Maya, and I wondered when they had become family. An old man with gold rings on his fingers called to my mother from across the hall and she changed course to go toward him. A servant pulled out an armed chair and Kiya’s ladies watched me with quiet menace from under their wigs. As I took my seat, Kiya announced brightly, “Why, Lady Mutnodjmet, how nice to see you. I thought you might have missed the celebration.”

“And why would I have done that?” I asked.

“We thought you were sick.”

The color drained from my cheeks and the viziers passed questioning glances among themselves.

“Oh, there isn’t any need to be modest. You must share your good news with everyone.” Kiya announced to the table, “Lady Mutnodjmet is pregnant with the general’s child!”

It was as if time had suddenly halted. Two dozen faces turned toward me, and the painter Thutmose’s eyes grew large as cups. “Is it true?” he asked.

I smiled, lifting my chin. “Yes.”

For a moment, there was a shocked silence among the viziers, then there was a flurry of frenzied whispering.

Across the table, Kiya smiled complacently. “Sisters, and pregnant at the exact same time. I wonder”—she leaned forward—“what Pharaoh had to say?”

I didn’t respond.

“You mean”—Kiya gasped—“he doesn’t know?”

“I am sure he will be happy,” Thutmose interjected.

“Happy?” Kiya cried, losing all sense of decorum. “She has bedded a general! A general!” she shrieked.

“I should think Pharaoh would be proud,” Thutmose assumed. “It is a chance to win the general over to his cause, since Osiris knows Nakhtmin’s heart isn’t in the building.”

Kiya’s voice was flat. “Then where is it?”

Thutmose thought. “In the north with the Hittites, I suppose.”

“Well, perhaps he can go and join Horemheb then.”

Kiya’s ladies laughed, and Thutmose put a placating hand over hers. “Come now, no one wishes for Horemheb’s fate.” Kiya’s features softened and the sculptor turned toward me. “Tawaret protect you,” he said quietly. “You have helped enough women at court to have earned some happiness for yourself.”

My mother returned and the trumpets blared, announcing my sister and Akhenaten’s arrival. They cut a glittering path through the Great Hall, smiling as they went, but when my sister came to me her gaze shifted and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I heard Kiya’s voice in my head. Sisters, and pregnant at the exact same time.

All night dancers swirled across the Great Hall of Amarna in ripples of linen and netted dresses of bright beads. Fire throwers had come to entertain Akhenaten, but all he had eyes for was my sister. It must have burned Kiya to her very core to see the way women crowded around Nefertiti when she descended the dais, deigning to talk to one or another of the noblewomen. I found my sister speaking with Maya’s wife.

“Excuse us,” I said, taking Nefertiti’s arm.

“What are you doing?” The color rose in her cheeks.

“I want to know if you’ve spoken with Pharaoh.”

Her temper rose. “I warned you about him. I told you not to—”

“Have you spoken to him?” My voice grew louder. My mother, at the table beneath the dais, looked over at us. Nefertiti’s face grew hard.

“Yes. Nakhtmin has been sent north to fight the Hittites with Horemheb.”

If she had struck me across the face, I would have been less shocked. My breath stuck in my throat. “What?”

Nefertiti flushed. “I warned you, Mutnodjmet. I said not to go near him—” She cut herself off as Akhenaten appeared. He must have known what we were talking about because he came to me with his brightest smile.

“Mutnodjmet.”

I turned to him accusingly. “You sent the general to fight the Hittites?”

His smile faltered. “Playing with fire will only get you burned. I am sure your father taught you that, little cat.” He reached out to caress my cheek and I flinched. Then he bent close and whispered, “Perhaps next time you shall choose a more loyal lover. Your general asked to go.”

I stepped back, refusing to believe it. “Never!” My gaze switched to Nefertiti. “And you did nothing?” I demanded. “You did nothing to stop it?”

“He asked,” my sister said weakly.

“He never asked,” I said viciously, implicating Pharaoh in my truth, not caring how dangerous my words were. “I am pregnant. I am pregnant with his child and you let him be sent off to his death!” I cried. Conversation in the Great Hall had stopped.

I banged through the double doors into the night. But I had nowhere to go. I didn’t even know where my chambers were in the palace. I wept, clutching my stomach. What am I going to do? My knees buckled and suddenly I felt ill, unable to stand.

“Mutny!” my mother cried. She turned to Ipu; they had both followed me out of the Great Hall. “Find her a physician! Now!”

There were more voices than I could name, all shouting instructions. I was very ill, someone said, and they should move me to the temple where the priestesses could pray for my life. Another voice asked if this would be the temple of Amun or Aten. I drifted into darkness, and I could hear someone talking about the healing powers of the priests. I heard the name Panahesi and my mother’s sharp retort. Linens came, and I felt a heaviness between my legs. My stomach cramped. There was water. Lemon water and lavender. Someone said my father had arrived. Had entire days passed? When I awoke, it was always to darkness, and Ipu was constantly by my side. When I moaned, I remember feeling the cool hands of my mother across my forehead. I asked for her many times. I recall that clearly. But I never recall asking for my sister. I learned later that for days I drifted in and out of consciousness. The first thing I remember clearly is waking up to the smell of lotus blossoms.

“Mutnodjmet?”

I blinked against the morning light and frowned. “Nakhtmin?”

“No, Mutnodjmet.”

It was my father. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around. Reed mats were rolled up above the windows, letting in the morning sun, and the tiled floors gleamed red and blue. Everything was large. The cross-legged stools of animal hide, the jeweled caskets and wig boxes, the onyx lamps with turquoise embedded into their columns. But I was confused. “Where is Nakhtmin?”

My mother hesitated. She sat down on the corner of my bed, exchanging looks with my father. “You’ve been very sick,” she said at last. “You don’t remember the feast, my love?”

And then it came back to me. Nakhtmin’s death sentence, Nefertiti’s selfishness, my sickness outside the palace. My breath came faster. “What happened? Why am I sick?”

My father took a seat next to me and placed his large hand over mine.

My mother whispered, “Mutnodjmet, you’ve lost the child.”

I was too horrified to speak. I had lost Nakhtmin’s baby. I had lost the only thing that bound me to him, the piece of him I was to keep with me forever.

My mother pushed my hair away from my face. “Many women lose their first child,” she comforted me. “You are young. There will be others. We must be thankful the gods spared you.” Her eyes welled. “We thought you were gone. We thought you were—”

I shook my head. “No, this isn’t happening,” I said, pushing away the covers. “Where is Nefertiti?” I demanded.

My father replied solemnly, “Praying for you.”

“In Aten’s temple?” I cried.

“Mutnodjmet, she is your sister,” he said.

“She is a jealous, selfish queen, not a sister!”

My mother recoiled and my father sat back.

“She sent the general away!” I cried.

“That was Akhenaten’s choice.”

But I wouldn’t let my father defend her. Not this time. “And she allowed it,” I accused. “One word from Nefertiti and Akhenaten would have overlooked anything we’d done. We could have shamed Amun in the streets, and if Nefertiti had wanted it, he would have let it happen. She’s the only one he listens to. She’s the only one who can control him. Your sister saw it, you saw it. And she allowed Nakhtmin to be sent away. She allowed it!” I shouted. My mother put a placating hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. “Is he dead?” I demanded.

My father stood up.

“Is he dead?” I said again.

“He is a strong soldier, Mutnodjmet. The guards will have brought him north to the Hittite lines and left him there. He will know what to do.”

I closed my eyes, imagining Nakhtmin thrown to the Hittites like meat to wild dogs. I felt the tears, warm and bitter, coursing down my cheeks, and my father’s placating arm around my shoulder. “You have suffered great loss,” he said softly.

“He will never return. And Nefertiti did nothing.” My grief overcame me and the tightness in my stomach came back again. “Nothing!” I shrieked.

My mother held me, rocking me back and forth in her arms. “Shh, there was nothing she could do,” she swore.

But that was a lie.

My father went to my bed table and held up a most exquisite chest, inlaid in lapis and pearl. “She’s been here every day. She wanted you to have this for your herbs.”

I studied the chest. It looked like something Nefertiti would have chosen. Elaborate and costly. “She thinks she will buy me off with a box?”

There was the sound of shuffled feet outside my chamber, then a servant swung open the door. “The queen is coming!”

But I would never forgive her.

She swept into my bedchamber, and the only thing I could see was the round belly beneath her linen. When she saw that I was awake, she stopped, then blinked quickly. “Mutny?” She had come with a turquoise ankh, probably blessed in the Temple of Aten. “Mutny?” She ran to me, embracing me in her tiny arms, and I could feel her tears on my cheeks. My sister, who never cried.

I didn’t move, and she leaned back to see my face.

“Mutny, say something!” she pleaded.

“I curse the day the gods decided to make me your sister.”

Her hands began to tremble. “Take it back.”

I watched her and said nothing.

“Take it back!” she cried, but I turned away from her.

My parents looked at one another. Then my father said softly, “Go, Nefertiti. Give her some time.”

My sister’s jaw dropped. She turned to my mother, and when no defense came, she spun away and shut the door in her wake.

I looked up at my parents. “I want to be alone.”

My mother hesitated. “But you’ve been so sick,” she protested.

“Ipu’s here. She will take care of me. For now, I want to be alone.”

My mother glanced at my father and they left. I turned to face Ipu, who hovered over me, unsure what to do. “Will you bring me my box for herbs?” I asked her. “The old one,” I said. “I want my chamomile.”

She found the box for me and I lifted the heavy lid. I froze. “Ipu, has anyone been in this box?” I asked quickly.

She frowned. “No, my lady.”

“Are you sure?” I sifted through the packages again, but the acacia was gone. The linen-wrapped seeds of acacia were gone! “Ipu.” I struggled to stand up. “Ipu, who could have been in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“The acacia!”

Ipu glanced at the box, then covered her mouth. Her eyes wandered to my midriff, understanding. I grabbed the box and threw open the double doors to my chamber. My long hair swayed wild and loose behind me, my linen tunic was unbelted. “Where is Nefertiti?” I cried. Some of the servants backed away. Others whispered, “In the Great Hall, my lady, dining with the viziers.”

I clenched the box tighter, in a rage so dark that I couldn’t even see the people in the hall when I threw open its doors, startling the guards.

“Nefertiti!” I shouted. The chatter in the room went silent. The musicians below the dais stopped playing and Thutmose’s mouth fell slightly open. Nefertiti’s ladies gasped.

I held up the box so that everyone in the hall could see. “Who stole my acacia?” I advanced on the dais, looking at my sister. Panahesi made a noise in his throat and my father stood up. “Someone stole the acacia seeds and poisoned me with them to rid me of my child. Was it you?”

Nefertiti had gone white as alabaster. She looked at Akhenaten, her eyes wide, and I turned my attention to Pharaoh. “You?” I shrieked. “Did you do this to me?”

Akhenaten shifted uncomfortably.

My father took me by the arm. “Mutnodjmet.”

“I want to know who did this to me!” My voice echoed in the hall, and even Kiya and her ladies went silent. If it could happen to me, it could happen to any of them. Who were their enemies? Who were mine?

“Let’s go,” my father said.

I let myself be led out, but at the doors to the Great Hall I turned. “I will never forgive this,” I swore, and Nefertiti knew it was meant for her. “I will never forgive this so long as the sun still sets on Amarna!” I screamed.

My sister sat back in her chair, looking as though someone had robbed her of her kingdom.