Nefertiti

Chapter Two

THEBES

nineteenth of Pharmuthi

OUR BARGE WAS ready to set sail for Thebes four days after my aunt’s visit to Akhmim. As the sun rose in the east above the temples of our city, I stood in front of my small herb garden and plucked a leaf of myrrh, holding it up to my nose and closing my eyes. I would miss Akhmim so much.

“Stop looking so sad.” I heard my sister’s voice behind me. “There’ll be plenty of gardens for you at Malkata.”

“How would you know?” I looked out over my tenderly cultivated plants. Cornflowers, mandrakes, poppies, a tiny pomegranate tree that Ranofer and I had planted together.

“Well, you’ll be Sister of the King’s Chief Wife. If there aren’t, I’ll have some built!” I laughed, and so did she. She took my arm in hers. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll build an entire temple to you, make you goddess of the garden.”

“Nefertiti, don’t say such things.”

“In two days I’ll be married to a god, and that will make me a goddess, and you the sister of one. You will be divine by relation,” she joked shockingly.

Our family was too close to the Pharaohs of Egypt to believe in their divinity the way the common people did, the way they were told to believe so they wouldn’t challenge their authority. My father explained it one night, and I was afraid that next he would tell us that Amun-Re was not real, either, but he never did that. There were things you believed in for convenience’s sake, and things too sacred to speak against.

Despite Nefertiti’s promises, I was sad to leave my little garden. I took as many herbs with me as I could, placing them in small pots, and I told the servants to take care of the rest for me. They promised they would, but I doubted if they would really pay attention to the jujube or give the mandrakes as much water as they needed.

The trip to Thebes from the city of Akhmim was not a long one. Our barge pushed through the reeds and cattails, and then splashed through the muddy waters of the Nile south toward the City of Pharaohs. My father smiled at my sister from the prow, and she smiled back at him from her chair beneath an awning. Then he beckoned me over with his finger. “You have cat eyes in the sun,” he said. “Green as emeralds.”

“Just like Mother’s,” I replied.

“Yes,” he agreed. But he hadn’t called me over to speak about my eyes. “Mutnodjmet, your sister will need you in the days to come. These are dangerous times. Whenever a new Pharaoh sits on the throne there is uncertainty, and never more than now. You will become your sister’s Chief Lady, but you must be very careful what you do and say. I know you are honest.” He smiled. “Honest sometimes to a fault. But the court is no place for honesty. You must take heed around Amunhotep.” He looked out over the waters. Fishermen’s nets hung limp in the sun. At this time of day, all work was abandoned. “Also, you must rein in Nefertiti.”

I glanced at him in surprise. “How?”

“By giving her advice. You have patience and you are good with people.”

I flushed. He had never said that about me before.

“Nefertiti is hot-tempered. And I am afraid…” He shook his head, but he didn’t say what he was afraid of.

“You told Aunt Tiye Nefertiti could control the prince. Why does a prince need to be controlled?”

“Because he is hot-tempered, too. And ambitious.”

“Isn’t ambition good?”

“Not like this.” He covered my hand with his. “You will see. Just keep your eyes open, little cat, and your senses alert. If there is trouble, come to me before anyone else.” My father saw which way my thoughts were tending and smiled. “Don’t look so worried. It won’t be so bad. After all, it’s a small trade for the crown of Egypt.” He indicated the shore with his eyes. “We’re almost there.”

I looked out over the prow. There were more ships now that we were nearing the palace, long vessels with triangular sails like ours. Women ran to the sides of their ships to catch a glimpse of our barge and to see who was in it. The gold banners flying from the mast identified my father as Senior Vizier to the Elder, and everyone would know that it was carrying the future queen of Egypt. Nefertiti had disappeared into the cabin, and now she reappeared in fresh linen. Rare jewels that our aunt had left for her hung across her throat and caught the sun. She came up and stood beside me on the prow, letting the spray cool her skin.

“Great Osiris!” I pointed. “Look!” There were fifty soldiers on the shore, and at least two hundred servants, all waiting for our arrival.

My father was the first to disembark, followed by my mother, then Nefertiti and myself. This was the order of importance in our family. I wondered how that hierarchy would change after my sister’s coronation.

“Look at the litters,” I exclaimed. They were gold and lapis with ebony carrying poles.

“They must be the Elder’s,” Nefertiti said, impressed.

We were borne up, each in our own curtained box, and I parted the drapes to see Thebes for the second time, sparkling under the afternoon sun. I wondered how Nefertiti could bear to sit back in her litter when she had never seen Thebes before. But I could see her shadow, proud and erect in the middle of her box, restraining herself as we swept through the city our father had never taken us to. A dozen flutists played as we went, passing the sandstone houses with their hundreds of onlookers. I wished I could be in the same litter as my mother, sharing her joy as the acrobats and musicians entertained the gathering crowds. We passed the temple of Amunhotep the Magnificent and the colossal pair of statues depicting him as a god. Then, in the midst of the desert, a lake glittered on the horizon. I nearly toppled out of the litter, my urge to see it was so strong. It was a man-made pool dug in a half-moon shape, and it surrounded the palace. Boats with small sails slipped across the waters in a place where sand and palms should have been, and I remembered my father saying that Amunhotep the Magnificent had built a lake as a symbol of his love for Queen Tiye, and that it was unlike any other in Egypt. It shone like liquid lapis and silver in the sun, and the crowds moved away as we approached the palace gates.

I quickly sat back on the pillows and let the curtains fall into place. I didn’t want to seem like a farm girl who’d never been outside of Akhmim. Even with the curtains closed, though, I knew when we had passed onto the grounds of the palace. The road became shaded with trees, and I could make out the outline of small chapels, villas of public officials, a royal workshop, and small, squat quarters for servants. The litter bearers ascended a flight of stairs and we were set down at the top. When we parted the curtains, all of Thebes was spread before us: the half-moon lake, the mud-brick houses, the markets and farms, and, beyond them, the Nile.

My father dusted off his kilt and announced his intentions to the servants. “We will be taken to our quarters and unpacked. When we are bathed and changed, we shall meet the Elder.”

The servants bowed deeply in a show of esteem, and I knew my mother was impressed at how much power her husband commanded in Thebes. In Akhmim he was simply our father, a man who liked to read by the lotus pools and visit the Temple of Amun to watch the sun set over the fields. But in the palace he was the Vizier Ay, one of the most respected men in the kingdom.

A male servant appeared sporting the side lock of youth. He was slight, with a kilt trimmed in gold. Only Pharaoh’s servants wore gold on their cloth. “I will be the one to take you to your rooms.” He began walking. “The estimable Vizier Ay and his wife shall be lodged in the courtyard to the left of Pharaoh. To his right is the prince, next to whom the ladies Nefertiti and Mutnodjmet shall be placed.” Behind us servants scrambled to gather our dozens of chests. The palace was built in the shape of an ankh, the center of which was Pharaoh. Scattered around him in various courtyards were his viziers, and as we passed these open squares women and children stopped to watch our procession. This is what our life will be like now, I thought. A world of watching.

Our guide walked across several brightly tiled courtyards with paintings of papyrus fields, then into a chamber where everyone stopped. “The Vizier Ay’s rooms,” he announced ceremoniously. He threw open the doors and granite statues peered out from every niche in the chamber. It was a room full of luxury and light, with reed baskets and wooden tables with carved ivory feet.

“Take my daughters to their rooms,” my father instructed, “then escort them to the Great Hall in time for dinner.”

“Mutny, be dressed properly tonight,” my mother warned, embarrassing me in front of the servants. “Nefertiti, the prince will be there.”

“With Kiya?” she asked.

“Yes,” my father replied. “We have arranged for jewelry and clothes to be placed in your chamber. You have until sunset. Mutny will help you with whatever you need.” My father looked at me and I nodded. “I have also arranged for body servants to be sent. These are the most highly trained women in the palace.”

“At what?” I asked ignorantly. We had never had body servants in Akhmim. Nefertiti flushed a mortified red.

My father replied, “At cosmetics and beauty.”

There was a real bed in our chamber. Not a reed mat or stuffed pallet as we had in our villa back home, but a large, carved ebony platform overhung with linens that Nefertiti and I would share. A brazier was sunk into the tiled floor for colder nights when we would sip warm beer and wrap ourselves in heavy blankets by the fire. And in a separate room used just for changing there was a limestone toilet. I pulled up its lid, and Nefertiti glanced over her shoulder in horror. Our guide watched me with amusement. There was a ceramic bowl filled with rosemary water beneath. We would never have to use a toilet stool and bowl again. It was a room fit for a princess of Egypt, and our guide interrupted us to explain that I would be Nefertiti’s bedmate until she was married, at which time she could choose to have her own bed.

Everywhere were the representations of growth and endless life. The wooden columns had been carved into flowers, then painted in blues and greens, dark yellows and reds. Egrets and ibis took flight along the walls, drawn by an artist skilled at his work. Even the tiled floor splashed with life, the mosaic of a lotus pond so realistic that like the gods, we, too, could walk on water. Our guide disappeared, and Nefertiti called, “Come look at this!” She touched the face of a mirror, larger than both of us together, and we stared at our reflection. Small, light Nefertiti and me. Nefertiti smiled at herself in the polished bronze. “This is how we shall look in eternity,” she whispered. “Young and beautiful.”

Well, young, anyway, I thought.

“Tonight I must be magnificent,” Nefertiti said, turning quickly. “I have to outshine Kiya in every way. Chief Wife is only a title, Mutnodjmet. Amunhotep could send me to the back of some harem if I fail to charm him.”

“Our father would never let that happen,” I protested. “You will always have a room in the palace.”

“Palace or harem,” she dismissed, turning back to the mirror, “what does it matter? If I don’t impress him, I will be a figurehead and nothing more. I will pass my days in my chamber and never know what it’s like to rule a kingdom.”

It frightened me to hear Nefertiti speak like this. I preferred her wild confidence to the reality of what would happen if she failed to become the favorite. Then I saw something move behind us in the mirror and froze. A pair of women had entered our chamber. Nefertiti turned sharply and one of the women stepped forward. She was dressed in the court’s latest fashion, with beaded sandals and small golden earrings. When she smiled, two dimples appeared on her cheeks.

“We have been instructed to take you to the baths,” she announced, handing us linen towels and soft bathing robes. She was older than Nefertiti, but not by many years. “I am Ipu.” Her black eyes searched us appraisingly, taking in my disheveled hair and Nefertiti’s slenderness. She indicated the woman next to her and smiled. “This is Merit.”

Merit’s lips curved upward slightly, and I thought her face was haughtier looking than Ipu’s. Yet her bow was deep, and when she came up she flicked her bangled wrist toward the door, indicating the courtyard. “The baths are this way.”

I thought of the cold copper tubs in Akhmim and my enthusiasm waned. Ipu, however, chattered brightly as we went.

“We are to become your body servants,” she informed us. “Before you dress or leave your chamber, we will make certain everything is in place. Princess Kiya has her own ladies. Body servants as well as acolytes. The women of the court all follow her lead. However she paints her eyes, they paint their eyes. However she wears her hair, the women of Thebes follow. For now,” she added with a smile.

A pair of guards ceremoniously pushed open the double doors to the bathhouse, and when the steam cleared from my vision I gasped. Vessels poured water into a long tiled pool that was surrounded by stone benches and sun-warmed stones. Thick plants, their tendrils escaping from vases to wind up the colonnades, grew toward the light.

Nefertiti surveyed the columned chamber with approval. “Can you believe that Father knew all about this and chose to raise us in Akhmim?” She tossed aside her linen towel.

We took seats on stone benches, and our new body servants instructed us to lie down.

“Your shoulders are very tense, my lady.” Ipu pressed down to ease the tension in my back. “Old women have softer shoulders than you!” She laughed, and I was surprised at her familiarity. But as she massaged, I felt the tenseness in my shoulders come undone.

The beads from Ipu’s wig clinked softly together, and I could smell the perfume from her linen sheath, the scent of lotus blossom. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again there was another woman in the pool. Then almost at once Merit was moving, wrapping my sister in her robe.

I sat up. “Where—”

“Shh.” Ipu pressed down on my back.

I watched them leave, stunned. “Where are they going?”

“Back to your chamber.”

“But why?”

“Because Kiya is here,” Ipu said.

I looked across the pool at a woman tossing her beaded hair in the water. Her face was small and narrow, her nose slightly crooked, but there was something arresting about her face.

Ipu clicked her tongue. “I have run out of lavender. Stay here, say nothing. I’ll be back.”

As Ipu walked away, Kiya moved toward me. She wrapped linen around her waist. Immediately, I sat up and did the same.

“So you’re the one they’re calling Cat Eyes,” she said. She sat across from me and stared. “I suppose this is your first time in the baths?” She looked beneath my bench and I followed her gaze, seeing what I’d done. I had folded my bathing robe on the ground and now water had come and soaked its edges. “In the palace we have closets for these things.” She grinned, and I looked over to where her robe was hanging and flushed.

“I didn’t know.”

She raised her brows. “I would have thought your body servant would have told you. Ipu is famous in Thebes. All the women at court want her for her skill with paint, and the queen gave her to you.” She paused, waiting for my response. When she saw she would get nothing else out of me, she leaned forward. “So tell me, was that your sister?”

I nodded.

“She’s very beautiful. She must have been the flower of every garden in Akhmim.” She looked at me from under her long lashes. “I bet she had many admirers. It must have been difficult to leave him behind,” she said intimately, “especially if she was in love.”

“Nefertiti doesn’t fall in love,” I replied. “Men fall in love with her.”

“Men? So there’s more than one?”

“No, just our tutor,” I replied quickly.

“The tutor?” She sat back.

“Well, not her tutor. He was mine.”

Ipu’s steps echoed in the courtyard and at once Kiya was standing, smiling brilliantly. “I’m sure we’ll speak again, little sister.”

Ipu saw us and alarm spread over her face. Then Kiya slipped out the doors, wearing only her wet linen. “What happened?” Ipu demanded, crossing the baths. “What did Princess Kiya say to you just now?”

I hesitated. “Only that Nefertiti was beautiful.”

Ipu narrowed her eyes. “Nothing else?”

I shook my head earnestly. “No.”

When I returned to our chamber, Nefertiti was already inside, dressed in a gown that cut below her breasts. Mine was identical, but when I put it on, no two sisters could have been more different. On me, the linen was long and loose, but on Nefertiti the gown hugged her little waist, coming up below her breasts to push them higher. “Wait!” Nefertiti exclaimed as Merit poised the brush above her head. “Where’s the safflower oil?”

Merit frowned. “My lady?”

“Safflower oil,” Nefertiti explained, glancing at me. “My sister says to use it. To prevent losing your hair.”

“We don’t use safflower oil here, my lady. Shall I find some?”

“Yes.” Nefertiti sat back and watched Merit go. She nodded approvingly at my gown. “You see? You can look nice when you try.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly.

It took fully until sunset to prepare us; Ipu and Merit were as capable as my father had promised, and with steady hands they meticulously rouged our lips and applied kohl to our eyes, hennaed our breasts, and at last placed Nubian wigs on our heads.

“Over my hair?” I complained. Nefertiti glared at me, but the wig looked hot and heavy, full of braids and tiny beads. “Does everyone do this?”

Ipu stifled a laugh. “Yes, Lady Mutnodjmet. Even the queen.”

“But how will it stay?”

“With beeswax and resin.”

She tied my long hair into a knot and placed the wig on my head with expert care. The effect was surprisingly becoming. The braids framed my face and green beads brought out the color of my eyes; Ipu must have chosen the color for me, for I saw that Nefertiti’s beads were silver. I sat still while my body servant applied a cream across my breasts, then delicately removed the lid from a jar. She poured a handful of glittering fragments into the palm of her hand and then blew softly, and I was covered in gold dust. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and gasped. I was pretty.

Then Nefertiti stood.

There was no sign of the boat journey we had taken from Akhmim. She was wide awake with nervousness for this night, and she shimmered with the brilliance of the sun. Her wig came below her shoulders and behind her ears, emphasizing her cheekbones and slender neck. Every strand of hair played music when the beads came together, and I thought there wasn’t a man in any kingdom who could refuse her. Her entire body glittered with gold, even her toes.

The two body servants stepped back. “She’s magnificent.”

They switched places to inspect each other’s work, and Merit hummed approval as she looked into my face. “Green eyes,” she said. “I have never seen eyes this green before.”

“I rimmed them in malachite,” Ipu replied, proud of her work.

“It’s beautiful.”

I sat straighter and my sister cleared her throat, interrupting my moment.

“My sandals,” she announced.

Merit fetched sandals encrusted with gold, then Nefertiti turned to me.

“Tonight I meet the Prince of Egypt,” she said. She held out her arms and her bangles tinkled at her wrists. “How do I look?”

“Like Isis,” I said honestly.

We were led to the Great Hall at sunset and could hear the festivities from several courtyards away. As each guest arrived, they were announced, and as we waited in line, Nefertiti squeezed my arm. “Is Father in there yet?” she asked, thinking that because I was tall I could see over the heads of a dozen people.

“I can’t tell.”

“Stand on your toes,” she instructed.

I still couldn’t see. “Don’t worry. Everyone will see your entrance,” I promised.

We moved up several places in line, and now I could see that the Elder and Queen Tiye were both within. The prince, too, was there. Men kept turning in line to look at my sister, and I realized that my father had chosen correctly when instructing us to arrive after everyone else.

The line kept moving, and soon the entire hall was spread before us. Of all the rooms I had yet seen in Malkata, it was easily the widest and most beautiful. The herald cleared his throat and stretched out his arm. “The Lady Nefertiti,” he announced grandly, “daughter of Ay, Vizier of Egypt and Overseer of the King’s Great Works.”

Nefertiti took a step forward and I heard conversation in the Great Hall falter.

“The Lady Mutnodjmet, sister of Nefertiti, daughter of Ay, Vizier of Egypt and Overseer of the King’s Great Works,” the herald continued.

Now I stepped forward, and I watched as the guests turned to see Ay’s two daughters, fresh from the tiny city of Akhmim.

Women stared as we walked to the dais. Our father stood to greet us from behind a long table, and we were brought before the three Horus thrones of Egypt, bowing with our arms outstretched. The Elder sat forward on his chair, and I could see that his sandals were carved of wood and that the bottoms were painted with images of his enemies. He stared at Nefertiti’s round hennaed breasts, though there were enough pairs in the Great Hall to keep him occupied for the entire night.

“Rise,” the queen commanded.

As we did so, Prince Amunhotep’s gaze met my sister’s. Nefertiti smiled back, and I noticed that next to him Kiya was watching us closely. Then, because Nefertiti was not yet queen, we were taken to a table directly beneath the dais where the viziers ate and where my father was sitting.

Nefertiti hissed through her perfect smile, “It’s an insult, to have to sit beneath her.”

My father stroked my sister’s golden arm. “In a few days, she will be sitting here, and you will be Queen of Egypt.”

The men at our table talked over each other to ask Nefertiti about her journey to Thebes, if the weather had been good, whether the ship had stopped at any cities along the way. I watched Amunhotep, and his eyes never left my sister’s face. She must have known this, because she laughed and flirted, tossing her long neck back when a handsome son of another vizier approached her and asked about her time in Akhmim. I saw Kiya try to speak with the prince, to tear her husband’s gaze away from my sister, but Amunhotep would not be distracted. I wondered what he thought of his future wife, and I studied the way Nefertiti held men in her power. She spoke softly, so they had to bend closer to hear, and she gave her smiles sparingly, so that when she laughed a man felt like he had been bathed in her light.

When the food was served and we began to eat, I didn’t know where to look first. The dais, where the Elder leered at naked women whose limber bodies bent backward in dance, or the prince, who looked sharp and controlled, a different man from the one I remembered in the tombs. I looked at Panahesi across the table. The vizier wore the signet ring of the king, and he was tall like my father. But in all other ways they were opposites. Where my father had blue eyes, Panahesi’s were black. Where my father had the high cheekbones Nefertiti had inherited, Panahesi’s face was longer and fuller. Gold rings shone on each of his fingers, whereas my father rarely wore his jewels. I studied our family’s rival until the musicians struck up a tune and everyone left the tables to dance, women in one circle, men in another. My father took my mother’s hand to lead her across the hall, and Kiya watched with critical eyes as Nefertiti got up to join the women.

“Aren’t you coming?” Nefertiti asked.

“Of course not!” I stared at the throngs of pretty courtiers’ daughters, all of whom had been raised in Thebes, all of whom would know the court dances. “I don’t know any of the moves. How will you do it?”

She shrugged. “I’ll watch and learn.”

Perhaps Merit had given her instructions in private, for I was amazed to see my sister leap and spin in time with the others, a vision of lapis lazuli and gold. There were only a few women sitting, and I noticed with unease that I wasn’t alone at our table. Panahesi remained as well. I glanced at him, the way his long fingers were templed under his clipped black beard, the only vizier at court who let his hair grow long. Then he caught me looking at him and said, “This must be very exciting for you. A young girl from Akhmim, coming to the palace with all its feasting and gold. So why aren’t you dancing?”

I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know the dances,” I admitted.

He raised his brows. “Yet your sister seems so natural,” he pointed out, and we be both looked at Nefertiti, who danced as if we’d been attending court functions all our lives. Panahesi looked from her to me and smiled. “You must be half sisters.”

I hoped Ipu’s rouge hid my mortification, and bit my tongue so I wouldn’t reply with something sharp.

“So tell me,” Panahesi went on. “With a sister in the king’s harem, who will you marry?”

My ire rose. “I am only thirteen.”

“Of course, a little girl still.” His eyes traveled to my chest, and suddenly Nefertiti was beside me. The music had ended.

“Yes, but better a blossoming woman than a wilted old man.” Her eyes traveled meaningfully to Panahesi’s kilt. Then our father reappeared, taking his seat at the table.

Panahesi pushed out his chair. “Your children are very charming,” he snapped. “I am sure the prince will come to love them dearly.” He swept away, his white cloak trailing at his heels, and my father demanded, “What happened?”

“The vizier—” I began, but Nefertiti cut me off.

“Nothing.”

My father looked long at Nefertiti.

“Nothing,” she repeated.

“I warned you to be careful. The Vizier Panahesi has Amunhotep’s ear.”

Nefertiti set her jaw, and I could see that she wanted to reply, Not when I become queen, but remained silent. Then she searched the room and became agitated. “Where is the prince?”

“While you were charming the vizier, he left the hall.”

Nefertiti faltered. “I won’t meet him tonight?”

“Not unless he returns,” my father said, and I had never heard his voice so deep or stern. This wasn’t Akhmim. This was the court of Egypt, where mistakes couldn’t be tolerated.

“Maybe he’ll come back,” I suggested hopefully, and both Nefertiti and my father ignored me. The musky scent of wine filled the hall. Kiya remained surrounded by her women, court ladies who were dressed, as Ipu had told us, in the fashion she dictated: long hair, sleeveless sheaths, and hennaed feet. They hovered around her like moths, her little belly evidence that she, and not my sister, was the future of Egypt.

“It’s too hot in here,” Nefertiti said, taking my arm. “Come with me.”

Our father warned sharply, “Do not go far.”

I followed Nefertiti’s angry footfalls through the hall. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” She stalked through the palace. “He left, Mutnodjmet. He actually left without meeting me. His future queen. The future of Egypt!”

We went outside and found ourselves at the fountain. We put our hands beneath its flow, letting the water drip from our fingers to our breasts. The rippling water carried the scents of honeysuckle and jasmine. As Nefertiti took off her wig, a familiar voice pierced the darkness.

“So you are my mother’s choice of wife.”

Nefertiti looked up and the prince was standing there, clad in his golden pectoral. She wiped any trace of surprise from her face, and at once she was Nefertiti, flirtatious and charming. “Why? Are you shocked?” she asked him.

“Yes.” But there was nothing airy in Amunhotep’s response. He sat and studied Nefertiti in the moonlight.

“Is Egypt’s prince tired of the dancing then?” She did it perfectly, hiding her nervousness by sounding coquettish.

“I am tired of seeing my mother bow to the High Priest of Amun.” When Nefertiti smiled, Amunhotep looked at her sharply. “Is that funny?”

“Yes. I had thought you had come out here to court your new wife. But if you want to talk politics, I will listen.”

Amunhotep narrowed his eyes. “Listen the way my father listens? Or the way you listened to your tutor when he professed love in Akhmim?”

Even in the darkness I could see my sister blanch, and I realized immediately what Kiya had done. I thought I would be ill, but Nefertiti was quick.

“They say you are a great believer of Aten,” she recovered. “That you plan to build temples when you are made Pharaoh.”

Amunhotep sat back. “Your father keeps you well informed,” he remarked.

“I keep myself well informed,” she replied.

She was smart and she was charming, and even he couldn’t resist the earnestness of her stare in the light of the oil lamps. He moved closer to her. “I want to be known as the People’s Pharaoh,” he admitted. “I want to build the greatest monuments in Egypt to show the people what a leader with vision can do. The Amun priests should never have been allowed to achieve such power. That power was meant for the Pharaohs of Egypt.”

There was the crunch of gravel and the three of us turned.

“Amunhotep.” Kiya stepped into the light. “Everyone is wondering where the Prince of Egypt has been.” She smiled lovingly at him, as if his disappearing was both quaint and wonderful. She held out her arm. “Shall we return?”

Nefertiti nodded. “Until tomorrow then,” she promised, and her voice was low and sultry, as if there was a great secret between them.

Kiya’s arm tightened around Amunhotep’s. “I felt our child move tonight. A son,” she swore, loud enough for Nefertiti to hear as she steered him away. “I can already feel him.”

We watched them walk into the darkness, and I noticed how tightly Kiya was holding on to Amunhotep, as if he might disappear at any moment.

Nefertiti seethed, her sandals slapping across the tiles to our chamber. “What will he do in two days when we are united before Amun? Will he bring Kiya along and ignore me then, too?”

My father stood and closed the door. “You must lower your voice. There are spies throughout the palace.”

Nefertiti sank onto a leather cushion and put her head against my mother’s shoulder. “I was humiliated, mawat. He sees me as just another wife.”

My mother caressed my sister’s dark hair. “He will come around.”

“When?” Nefertiti sat up. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” my father said with certainty. “And if not tomorrow, then we will make him see that you are more than just his mother’s choice of wife.”