by Diana Ballew
The crowd, stunned to silence, watched with macabre fascination as Kheper fought to maintain balance. The chariot thrust to one side, then the other, but somehow he managed to keep it from tipping over. When both wheels again gripped the earth, the crowd in the pavilion cheered.
Once the chariot was stable, Kheper raised his bow again, though the horses had nearly overtaken the target. Kheper twisted to aim behind him. The twang of the bow as the arrow loosed sounded above the cacophony made by the drum of the horses’ hooves, and not one second later, a massive yell went up around the plain as Kheper’s arrow found the center of the bronze plate.
Tossing the bow aside, Kheper reached down and untied the reins to slow the horses. By gradual degrees he drove the chariot in a wide arc until the horses fell into a slow trot before the pavilion.
Tetisheri could see blood trickling down Kheper’s sides where the reins had bitten into his bare skin. Yet he seemed not to notice. His gaze, sure and straight, focused directly upon her face, oblivious to the cheering and calls of congratulations from the crowd that surged around his chariot.
When the horses drew to a halt, he dropped the bloodied reins and stepped down from his perch as if he’d just completed a regular training exercise. His chest glistened with sweat, and at that moment Tetisheri thought him the most valorous man alive.
“So, brother,” Iset called above the swelling crowd that circled him as he approached, “you proved me wrong.”
Kheper grinned, though his attention remained riveted on Tetisheri’s face. “When you challenged me, sister, I told you I would do it. You promised a prize,” he said, turning to face Iset with mischief alive in his features.
“Ah, yes. I did promise, didn’t I?” She looked at Tetisheri. “I should have asked, I know, but I made a bargain with my brother,” she said in a low voice. “He seeks a kiss from you, and I said he had to prove himself first. We made a bargain — and when I challenged him, I did not think he would be able to do it. Please, Teti, will you honor my bargain?”
Kheper glared at his sister. “You didn’t ask her?!”
The face she showed him held indignation instead of remorse. “Well, I didn’t think you could do it!”
Tetisheri put out her hand and stayed further argument. A shiver darted up her spine as she let her gaze be captured in his. “I will honor Iset’s bargain.”
Suddenly, the world became silent. No one spoke. The breeze didn’t even dare to stir.
Kheper stepped up to the raised platform upon which Iset’s party stood. Iset backed away, her dark eyes momentarily hard and calculating as they flicked to the tall soldier who remained hidden in the shadows at the rear of the pavilion.
Moving forward, Tetisheri lifted a hand to Kheper’s cheek, then softly touched her lips to his. Before she could back away, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her more deeply into the kiss. As his lips firmed on hers, his heat snaked into her, and she forgot that they stood before hundreds of people — her brother included. Her whole field of vision, all her attention, narrowed to the point of contact and the fire it caused inside her belly.
Then, without warning, he broke the kiss, and she felt instantly bereft.
When her eyes again found focus, she saw that her brother now stood alongside Kheper.
“What are you doing, Teti?” Though his tone sounded temperate, she could see by his thunderous expression that he disapproved of her actions. She knew the complaints that were already forming in his mind — how her behavior would reflect badly upon him; how whores met an early death.
“Teti merely fulfilled a bargain I made, Khay. A harmless bargain,” Iset said soothingly. She reached out and placed her hand gently upon his forearm.
Khay looked at her, then at his sister, long and hard, before finally allowing his lips to lift in a mockery of a smile. “It is as you say, Princess, a harmless bargain.” He cast a warning glare in his sister’s direction, then turned and strode back to the area where the horses were tethered.
Iset watched every step he took in mute fascination. The muscles in his broad back bunched and stretched, and she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to feel the strength of those muscles beneath her fingertips. Now that she understood the touch of a man, she appreciated his boyish athleticism all the more.
The pavilion had all but emptied when Anen approached Iset. She’d deliberately slipped away from the other women until she stood alone in the darkened tent.
“Princess,” he said, then bowed slightly in pretence of observing respect to his royal lover, just in case others watched.
When the last of the attendants finally moved beyond earshot, she melted against him as if he were her lifeline.
His seduction of her had been speedier than even he had anticipated; she all but threw herself into his arms during their third meeting in the garden. In keeping with his plan, he’d acted as if reticent to deepen their relationship and allowed her to set the pace, but it wasn’t long before her questing fingers began to probe beneath his kilt, seeking out her reward.
The mixture of wantonness and naïveté became a powerful aphrodisiac, and before he knew it he had lifted her against the rear wall of the garden and thrust himself within her heated body. He covered her mouth to keep her from crying out at the painful invasion, but less than a minute later she wrapped her thin legs about his waist and locked him within her, sucking the marrow from him with as much eagerness as the most ardent whore.
Even now, he felt himself harden as he remembered that first frenzied encounter. It had been the same every night since.
“Princess … be careful,” he warned, as her hands started to wander. He gripped her tiny wrists, pressing hard enough to hurt before he pushed them away. “If we are to achieve our aims, we must remain discreet. No one, not even the servants or slaves, can see us together.” He backed up and made certain there was an appropriate distance between them should anyone choose to enter the tent.
“But, Anen,” she cooed, “we are quite alone.”
“For how long?” he whispered urgently. “Do you wish to marry this Nubian? Do you wish me dead?”
She bowed her head and slowly shook it. “He is old and ugly and a savage. The only man I want is you.”
A look of satisfaction crossed his features for just an instant before he carefully masked it. “Then do as I say. It won’t be long, and we can be together always. But we must remain careful.
“Have you arranged the assignation with the young man who will do the deed for us?”
Again she shook her head. “He hasn’t answered my summons.”
“Then use his sister’s name. Send him a message that she needs his help. He would not deny his sister, surely.”
She looked up, a smile forming as she recognized the merit in such an idea. “I will. Tonight.”
“And you know what you must do—” he looked at her as if daring her to defy him. “You must seduce him to the point that he will do anything you ask … anything.” He didn’t add “just like you do for me,” though the words quivered on the tip of his tongue.
“I understand, my love. Whatever I need to do, I shall do.”
“Good.” He reached out to caress her cheek. “Then I shall see you in the garden after he comes to you?”
“I will wait all night for you if I must,” she assured.
“You had best go to your ladies now, before someone misses you.”
She turned away, then hesitated. When she turned back to beg a kiss, he was gone.
“Father?”
Menkhepere glanced up to see his son and probable heir approach the raised gilt chair of kingship. He hadn’t noticed that the hall had cleared of people. Even Rekhmire, his vizier, had departed. Only one priest and the guard at the door remained.
“What is it, Kheper?” he asked, though he kept his attention trained on the hunting scene that adorned the far end of the hall. His painters had only recently finished it, an echo of the one in the royal bedchamber, only
larger. A reminder of her.
After going down on one knee to show obeisance, his son sat on the top step of the dais.
“I wish to take a wife, father. Her name is Tetisheri. She will be my great wife if I become Pharaoh.”
Menkhepere’s face finally turned toward his son, a younger, slightly stouter version of himself. “Tetisheri? I do not know this name. Is she a member of the court? A cousin from a noble family?”
“That I do not know, father. Teti was all but orphaned at birth. She, and her twin brother Khay, were raised by an elderly baker and his wife in Abydos. When the adoptive parents made their journey to the afterlife, Khay and his sister came to Thebes to find work. I met them upon the road.”
Pharaoh cast a stern glance toward his son.
“It is not the custom to take an unknown commoner to great wife, Kheper. Royal blood is kept pure. The future of the world depends on this. The Elohim are your forebears. The blood of Pharaohs and princes flows in your veins. Would you taint it in offspring that are not bred for kingship?”
Kheper rested his forehead on his hand and stared at his feet in disappointment. He had known his father would argue thus. And though he expected it and had rehearsed the answers he would give, those answers now seemed insubstantial. Still, he had to try. He hadn’t even spoken to Teti yet, but he felt certain that her pride would not allow her to become a lesser wife. Besides, he didn’t want her to be a lesser wife. He wanted her as his only wife. Her beauty and grace suggested noble breeding whether she could prove her heritage or not.
“I know this is the custom, and I know the priests will say as much when I announce our marriage. But if you could meet her, Majesty, and her brother, you will see that she will make a suitable first wife for an heir to the seat of Egypt.”
Menkhepere pursed his lips, remembering the young woman he had wanted to take to wife all those years ago. He also remembered how he felt, despite her status as one-time slave. His happiness had been fleeting, and her face still haunted him every day. The mural that he looked upon was painted there in honor of his precious Alia, though none but Rekhmire knew it. He had loved her, body and ka. He still did, though she remained lost to him in this life. Could he deny his son such a love?
But what if brother and sister were spies for Egypt’s enemies? Quite a few had been active in recent times.
Pharaoh stood. “Have you checked their story — that they do hail from Abydos and not one of the rebel territories where dissidents abound?”
“Why would they lie? Teti is meek and unassuming, and a good influence on Iset, for whom she is now a companion. And Khay has proven to be a strong and able rider. He has trained with my men since their arrival in Thebes and shows great zeal and promise. For all I know of them, I cannot believe either would play false.”
Pharaoh shook his head at his son’s lovestruck naiveté. “If you are to become Pharaoh, your greatest tool will be caution. Remember that. Enemies and spies can hide anywhere, assume any guise. The worst betrayal I experienced in my early years came at the hands of the brother of a woman I loved and a wretched concubine sent as a gift for diplomatic purposes. Under the eyes of many here at court, they schemed and plotted and nearly destroyed me. Your mother was one of their victims. Trust no one completely … even someone you think you love.”
Kheper stood and turned to face his father. “I will have their story verified, but I would also like to bring her before you, so you might measure her innocence and beauty.”
Pharaoh nodded. “So be it. Bring the brother, also. I promise nothing just that I will meet them and measure her suitability as a royal wife. I will observe both. Much can be discerned from the private interactions between people. If they are as you say, then we can discuss the prospect of your marriage. However, even if she is all you believe, as future great wife?” He raised a brow in question.
“I understand, Father.”
For the first time since his son had entered the hall, Pharaoh noticed the welts that ringed Kheper’s torso. “Rekhmire tells me your actions today marked you as valorous, my son.” He didn’t mention the injuries or pain his son must have endured to perform such a feat; that would lessen his pride, and royalty must always remain proud … even when faced with a pain of the heart that endured half a lifetime.
“It was good that you proved your prowess in such a way. If you lead the army when Egypt assaults the Mitanni or show strength against the Syrian chiefs, your place in the king lists will be assured. The greatest epithets will accompany your name for all eternity, as with the great warriors of the past.”
With that, Pharaoh strode from the hall.
Kheper remained where he stood, noting the empty chair that sat alone and apart from all the other furniture in the hall. Though beautiful, with magnificent lion heads carved into the armrests and a cushion covered in the softest of linen, threaded with gold, he knew that when it became his turn to assume the seat, he would become as remote from everyone and everything as his father. Maintaining ma’at would be a great burden. He saw the constant loneliness in his father’s eyes and sometimes wondered whether it sprang from more than the weight of kingship.
The gods would ultimately choose, of course, but as things stood, he would become sole heir to Pharaoh’s kingdom, if he could best his brothers.
Chapter 15
“Where is Teti?” Khay asked, his breath coming in hard gasps as he entered the garden.
Iset reclined on a bench by a tiny pond. She watched him a moment, then smiled a coy smile. “Your sister sleeps in our chamber as always at this time, Khay.”
“Then why was I summoned?” Stepping closer, he glared in anger. Good, she thought. His emotions had been stirred; it would take little effort to turn that anger into lust. She now knew how easily she could manipulate a man who was overcome by lust. Anen thought he knew her, thought he controlled her. But she knew better; she saw it in his eyes at the peak of his pleasure. At that moment she held sway, and he was helpless as a baby bird.
Ever so slowly, she stood and moved in a sinuous glide until she stood before him. She had deliberately bathed and scented herself in the most erotic of spices, the ones she knew aroused a man beyond sensible thought.
“I have begged you to come and see me, Khay — why wouldn’t you come?” She reached out and touched his bare chest lightly and was gratified when a rash of goose bumps rose across his skin.
“Princess, you know why. My life would be worth nothing if I dallied with you.”
She splayed her hand over his heart. It beat furiously, and she couldn’t hide her grin of satisfaction.
“Oh, Khay — we need not do anything to put you in danger, but you know that I will soon be sent to marry with that awful Nubian savage. Would you deny me the chance to have just one honest kiss from the man I adore before I am condemned?” She glanced away as if her admission filled her with embarrassment — after all, she could not risk that he would see through her act. When she again looked up, she showed him the hint of tears.
Khay’s face reddened even as his eyes took on a pitying sadness. “Is the idea of marrying him such a hardship?”
“You do not know what a burden it is, Khay, to be brought into this world solely for the purpose of diplomacy. I cringe when I look upon him. His voice fills me with dread and his eyes revolt me. The idea that he will … he will touch …” she leaned into him and blinked rapidly, forcing the tears to track down her cheek.
Khay drew her into his arms and held her tight, rocking her like a child. “I wish there was something I could do to help you, Iset. But you know I cannot.”
“I know … I wish …” she shook her head and then hugged him tighter, “I just wish it were you instead.” She pressed her wet lips to his chest and waited. She could feel his arousal spring up hard against her belly and moved ever so slightly against it, a ploy she knew would push him closer to the edge of insanity. She opened her mouth against him and grazed her lips across his skin until she found his nipple
. Her tongue darted out.
“Iset,” he begged breathlessly, “we cannot do this!” He tried to put her from him, but she clung like a vine.
“Please, Khay, give me this boon. I am condemned to a virtual death. Will you not at least grant me one kiss?”
She lifted her tear-streaked face, and the look in his eyes told her she had won.
His mouth descended, tentative at first; then, when she opened her lips and sought his tongue, he plunged inside, filling her. When he lifted his head, she pulled him back.
And then, somehow, they were lying on the cool grass.
“Oh, Iset, you bewitch me,” he whispered, as she opened the front of her gown to reveal her breasts.
He swallowed hard, then, with a shaky hand, he cupped her warm flesh. It was smoother than anything he had ever touched before, and he felt his fingers shake with the wonder of it.
“Yes, Khay, that feels so wonderful. Would you deny me this, just once in my life?”
When she looked into his face, showing him lust-filled eyes, he knew he was completely lost. Slowly, she walked her fingers down the front of his body until she found her prize. He drew in a sharp breath when she unhitched his kilt until he lay naked before her. She didn’t wait — but gripped him tightly in her hand. He groaned, the pleasure a sweet agony.
All his secret dreams had become real. She stroked him as if she revered him, and his body reacted in the only way it could. Fire raced through his loins at lightning speed, and he knew he must stop her, or—
“NO!” he cried as he tried to still her hand before it was too late.
But his body was past the point of no return, and with a savage groan he erupted like an untried boy; his seed shooting over her like a fountain. Every muscle in his body clenched and pulsed. The burning heat consumed him until he felt almost delirious with the joy of it. He squeezed his eyes shut and rode the torrent, unaware of anything beyond the feel of her fingers as they milked him and the raging storm of his climax.