by Diana Ballew
“Rekhmire, have the women show their faces.”
The women obeyed immediately — lifting their heads and facing the royal chair.
Standing, Pharaoh addressed the women. “Prince Enlil believes his future wife is among you and wishes to see her. Are any of you called Alia?”
None of the women answered.
Prince Enlil stood and studied the line of women, passing by each one closely. He stopped and lifted the chin of several, one of whom gave him a lascivious smile — no doubt offering herself in Alia’s place.
“Are these all of them?” Enlil asked, as if baffled. “My informant assured me Alia resides there.”
“I expect your informant is not so well informed. Why is this Alia so important to you? I have offered a beautiful slave in her place; is this one not enough?”
Glancing across at Alia, Enlil shook his head with distaste. “No offence is intended, Majesty, when I say she pales beside my Alia.”
One of the women, the bold one who’d smiled her invitation at the young prince, erupted in a hysterical bark of laughter. The other women glared at her, but she boldly stepped forward to speak.
“Prince, Mighty Pharaoh toys with you,” she sniggered, “the girl you just rejected is named Alia; she resided in our house until a moon cycle ago.”
With a wave of his hand, Pharaoh ordered the women removed.
Prince Enlil turned to Alia with enraged eyes. Their darkness deepened with a liquid fire that promised retribution. “I came to rescue you, you useless girl. To honor my friend I would have married you, even though you have undoubtedly been ravaged by every man in Pharaoh’s armies!”
“Enough!” Pharaoh’s voice echoed in the near empty chamber. “The girl is a servant to my great wife. Alia, are you content in Queen Neferure’s house?’
Bowing low, she murmured, “Yes, Majesty.”
“Then so be it.” Turning to the young prince, Pharaoh allowed himself a small smile of victory. “It seems, Enlil, that you are to leave my house with an empty purse. The governors I have assigned over your principalities will remain, as will the tribute exacted at the time of your defeat.” Nodding in Alia’s direction, he added, “The servant’s destiny is with Kmt.” With that, Pharaoh swept regally from the chamber.
Enlil turned and glared at Alia with menace as he approached.
“What is the matter with you, girl? You choose this savage foreigner over returning home? You deny your royal blood in favor of servitude.” He grasped her arm and squeezed hard. “Or is it that you enjoy being a whore to these foreigners?”
“I am no one’s whore!” Alia wrenched her arm away, refusing to be cowed. “What would I be returning to, Enlil? A minor wife to you? That would be slavery also. I have no family left — there is little you could offer that I would welcome.”
“At least you’d be safe when we attack—” he cut off his own words as soon as he realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Your plans will come to naught, Enlil. Pharaoh has eyes and ears everywhere, and his armies are endless. I saw the result of their devastation. You would be committing suicide if you rebel.”
“Better rebellion than slavery. Think on your fate, girl, before it’s too late!” He shoved a small amulet into her hand before he spun about and marched from the room without sparing her another glance.
She stared at the amulet for several moments, as a strange chill seeped from it into her palm. It was a symbol of her family that had belonged to her brother, and she wondered what to do next. She felt no affection for anything the amulet represented since, in reality, it now represented nothing at all. And what of Enlil’s threat?
Should I not tell someone?
By rights, the idea of betraying Enlil should make her feel like a traitor, but in truth she felt little — for him, or her homeland. The only glimmer of feeling came from the idea that her brother was born of her mother, and her mother was the one person she truly missed.
Placing the amulet on the small serving table behind her, she cleared the remains of Enlil’s platter.
A soldier stood motionless by the door, waiting for the other servants to finish their tasks. With a meek mien, she approached the man. “Pardon my boldness, but I must speak with the vizier. Can you direct me?”
The soldier did not move a single muscle except his eyes, which, when she followed their angle, not only directed her to Rekhmire, but also Pharaoh himself. His Majesty and the vizier stood just beyond the portal speaking in quiet whispers.
Careful to keep her head bowed, Alia approached and stood at a discreet distance.
Pharaoh caught sight of her and beckoned her forward. “Little Flower, you did well. What news?”
“Majesty, the remaining princes of Retennu plan a rebellion, I think. Prince Enlil started to speak of an attack, then changed his mind and left.”
Pharaoh reached out and brushed her cheek as if she were indeed a delicate flower. The gentle touch sent ripples darting downward.
“This is not news, Alia, though I am pleased you chose to inform me. It proves you will not betray me, or the trust Egypt places in you. For that, you must be rewarded. Although you must remain in the Neferure’s apartments for now, you shall do so as a freedwoman attendant and not a slave.”
Alia’s breath caught in her throat. As a companion to Pharaoh’s great wife, her life would again change. “But, Majesty, I am content to remain in the queen’s service. With respect, you need not do this.”
“Ah, but it is my wish, Little Flower.” He turned to Rekhmire, whose frown suggested he thought his Pharaoh was making a grave mistake, though he said nothing to contradict his lord. Pharaoh bade him go ahead to inform Neferure of Alia’s changed circumstances.
“We can walk together, Little Flower.”
Ever so slowly, Pharaoh led Alia through the maze of corridors and chambers between the great dining chamber and the queen’s rooms. “Do you not wish the freedom to marry and bear sons, Alia? If you remain as a slave, this could not be your lot.”
Alia didn’t suppress her sigh. “Majesty, where I come from, being a wife is just a different form of servitude. Husbands may beat their wives; even kill them for the most minor offences. They are kept from the eyes of other men and hidden away. Except for preparation of food and the bearing of children, their lives are as prisoners. I have escaped that destiny and would wish to keep it so.”
Pharaoh’s eyes caressed her. “You are a strange girl, Alia. But I can assure you that you may stay as companion to Queen Neferure for as long as it pleases you. If you change your opinion and want to marry, you merely need to advise me of the fact and I will grant you unconditional freedom. And perhaps, if my great wife chooses, a dowry will be made available. Tonight you proved loyalty, and loyalty is always rewarded.” He stopped walking and turned toward her again. Raising his thumb, he caught her chin and drew his fingertips softly across her skin. “You are also very beautiful, young Alia. Once men know of your status within the royal household, you will find many suitors awaiting your presence.”
For the merest instant their eyes clashed and held, and Alia’s lungs ceased to function. The skin he touched seemed to sing.
“Majesty,” she whispered, “I do not wish suitors, or marriage.”
“What does your heart desire?”
Her heart? Her heart had stopped beating — it wanted nothing.
“I do not know, Majesty.”
Again he drew his thumb slowly across her chin, and her lip quivered.
“Truly, quite beautiful,” he murmured. For several long seconds he held her gaze captive. She forgot to breathe, forgot to think, and as his golden eyes searched hers, it felt to her as if he touched her soul.
“Perhaps . . .”
Rekhmire’s loud footfalls broke the trance in which her Pharaoh held her. “Go now, Little Flower. ‘Tis late and no doubt another delegation of your countrymen will come seeking concessions on the morrow.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
&nbs
p; Pharaoh greeted his vizier, saying, “Has my great wife been informed?”
“Yes, Neferure understands.”
“That is well.”
As Alia walked the last few paces to the rooms she now called home, she wondered what other changes were in store for her.
The young man went down on one knee before the dark-haired woman as he took her hand. He could see an excitement in her black eyes.
After much debate, Sitiah had chosen for him to remain within the palace for the next cycle of the moon and observe the goings-on in order to decide the best time to spring their trap. He had won the right to take a blade to Pharaoh’s throat.
Enlil, in turn, had set about mustering their forces in the outlying precincts of the city. Other trusted allies were doing the same at strategic points up and down the two lands, awaiting word of when they should strike.
As soon as he had slipped into her quarters, his host quickly sent away all but her most trusted servants.
“So, my young friend,” she said as she stood before him so that her loins were directly in his eye line. The diaphanous dress she wore left little to be imagined. An earthy, musky scent overwhelmed him, stirring his lust. He rose slowly until they were eye to eye and their breaths mingled.
“You took longer to return than I expected. Was there trouble with the other princes?” She turned to the nearby table and poured water from a jug.
“No.” He took the cup and drank deeply, no longer fearing that she would use poison on him. The night of their first meeting she had entered his room just before sunrise and made love to him slowly and tormentingly. In that time they came to an understanding. Although he could smell Enlil’s scent on her skin, it didn’t bother him any — they had each known she would seduce them both. They had even wagered on who she would seek out first. That small wager he lost, but in the end it had won him the greater prize.
He sat on a nearby divan and took a date from the bowl before him.
“We were delayed because there were many soldiers stopping travelers — a regional governor had been ambushed and murdered as he marched north from Memphis, so the roads to and from Thebes are being watched. Enlil, who approached Thebes as an ambassador, was able to move more freely than my men and I.”
“Do you know who killed this governor?”
He grunted as he swallowed the date whole, before leaning forward to take another. “It might be better if you do not know — the less you know, the less danger you are in.” And the less danger you can be to our cause.
She nodded her understanding.
“Would you care for a meal or would you prefer to rest after your journey?” she asked; the feral smile she favored him with left little doubt in his mind what she meant by resting. A part of him disliked the notion of becoming her prey instead of predator, but at the same time, he knew he could take charge of their liaison at any time he chose.
As he stood, he smiled; it was an insincere smile, but she didn’t appear to notice. “I think I would prefer to rest, if you have no objection, Lady.”
Chapter 3
From her vantage down the long corridor, Alia could see that Pharaoh still spoke with Rekhmire. Just as she went to turn the corner, Pharaoh glanced up and sent her a faint smile, mouthing the word “soon.”
Her breath jammed in her throat, and she ducked out of sight within an instant. Surely, it wasn’t what she thought — surely, he didn’t mean that he intended to ... it wasn’t a promise of …?
No, I must have misunderstood.
Back in the rooms of Pharaoh’s great wife, she helped Ineni prepare a late supper for the queen. He tasted and checked the dates and nuts he’d placed on the platter, along with a small quantity of hard goat’s cheese that Neferure loved so much. He tested the fragrant wine before pouring a small cup for his mistress; then, when he was certain nothing had been poisoned or spoiled, he took the tray to her private chamber, dismissing Alia from further duties.
Alia hurried back to her pallet, eager to rest. The day had been long and her tummy still bubbled from Pharaoh’s parting gesture. Excitement warred with fear as she realized the full implication, if his actions indeed promised what she assumed. Again she admonished herself — surely not!
Early next morning, after sharing a small breakfast with Neferure’s women, Alia hastened across the courtyard toward Pharaoh’s formal dining room. In her desire to speak with Rekhmire the previous night, she’d forgotten all about the amulet.
The halls were silent, and she managed to slip into the dining chamber without calling attention to herself. Crossing the room, she discovered the amulet remained where she’d left it. Whether she chose to ally herself to Pharaoh or not, she would hold close this one reminder of her dead brother. As she stretched out her fingers to retrieve the small silver bird, a hand reached over her shoulder to stay her movement. Alia jumped as if stung.
“So, young Alia, your loyalty wavers already,” the unmistakable voice of Pharaoh, deep and full, echoed with restrained anger.
She froze and tried to stop herself trembling.
Bowing her head, she turned slowly until she faced him. He still held her hand, but she knew it would be tantamount to assault upon his royal person if she attempted to wrest it away.
“I beg pardon, Great Majesty. I only sought to retrieve this old family amulet that Prince Enlil gave me before he left last evening.”
Pharaoh lifted her chin with his other hand until he could look into her eyes. “Is this the truth, Little Flower? Be aware that Thoth visits his justice on all who lie.”
“Sincerely, Majesty, I meant no harm. This amulet belonged to my brother, and though he didn’t say so, I assume Enlil gave it to me in memory of him. I merely put it down to continue my duties last evening and forgot to take it when I returned to the queen’s apartments.”
For what seemed an eternity, Pharaoh continued to hold her thus, studying her eyes until she felt he’d stripped away every small measure of her past. Then, abruptly, he let go and stepped back. Her hand began to shake once his solid support had gone.
“I believe you harbor no secrets. But,” he took the amulet from her and examined it closely, “this, I wish to keep for a while, if I may. It looks very like a symbol found on the weapons that were used to seize and kill one of my regional governors recently. You say this is a symbol of your family?”
Alia’s skin began to warm. Could it be that her brother still lived? Was that why Enlil had passed the amulet to her — could Arad be attacking Pharaoh’s men? Although she dearly wished her brother did still live, she prayed she was mistaken. She’d made her choice — to side with Pharaoh. If her brother survived and expected her help in some way, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to betray either Arad or Pharaoh.
“Please, Majesty, keep the amulet, it is but a small thing, a symbol of a past that no longer exists for me.” She uttered the words with a quiet dignity, although she feared he would detect the small note of hope that her brother had survived the wars against Kmt.
For the first time since she’d met this god/king, he flashed a full and genuine smile and to Alia, it seemed as if nothing else mattered. He glowed in his magnificence.
Ever so gently, Pharaoh raised his hand and caressed her cheek, then inch by inch bent toward her until he placed a soft, fleeting kiss upon her mouth. All at once the breath left her body, and heat — a heat unlike anything she’d ever felt swept across her skin like a raging fire. She could not speak or think — it was as if a fever had taken her.
Pharaoh lifted his head and whispered, “I thank you for this gift, Little Flower. You do not yet understand its meaning, but you have given me more than you know.
“Now, it is best that you return to Neferure’s apartments before I succumb to the desire to kiss you once more.”
Not knowing what else to do, she bowed quickly and raced off down the corridor, her pace matching the rapid beat of her heart. When she rounded the corner, Alia stopped and leaned back again
st the cold plaster, using it as an anchor. She daren’t look back — the reality of what had just happened frightened her too much.
Pharaoh was the living god — even heathen women from heathen lands, such as she, knew the power of the man who’d just kissed her. Would his actions bless her or damn her? She didn’t know the answer to that question — nor did she know anyone in this city who she could ask, could trust. Again her heart began to pound. She could tell no one, ask no one.
“How are plans progressing?” Sitiah asked as she dragged her fingernails across his bare buttock. He flinched and she smiled with satisfaction as a rash of goose bumps rose along his arms. “I had expected that Prince Enlil would have slipped in to see us after his audience with Pharaoh last evening,” she said.
This close, he could see that she had rouged her nipples to make them darker.
“Yes, so did I. He must have had reasons for leaving immediately.”
“Hmm,” she mused, her fingertip meandering down his belly. “I wonder whether it has anything to do with the girl.”
He sat up and pushed her hands away. “What girl?”
“That slave, Alia,” she almost spat the name at him. “My women said he wished to find Alia — it seems he was betrothed to the girl before she was captured.”
He deliberately made his voice sound flat and disinterested as he asked, “Did Enlil find her?”
“Oh, yes. My spies tell me Pharaoh thought it a wonderful joke. Alia was serving Enlil at table, and he didn’t recognize her.” Sitiah sniggered as if she, too, thought it funny. “The girl had been among my women when she first arrived in Thebes, but the vizier sent her to Neferure many days ago. I was glad to be rid of her! She was rude and slow to perform her duties — I had her beaten more than once.”
The young prince thought it prudent not to mention that they were hoping Alia would help them when the time came. If she resided with Neferure, all the better.
“What happened — did Enlil offer ransom for her?”