At his hesitancy, my heart started to sink. “Why not?”
“Because you are the wife of Nuin.”
“I was his wife when you first made the offer,” I reminded him.
“And because I would prefer not to make settling in here any harder than it has already been for you.”
I leaned forward and licked my lips. “But do you not see, learning the common language will make settling in here easier, and—”
His jaw clenched. “You should ask my sister; you and Aset seem to be getting along quite well.”
Sparked by his avoidance, my temper smoldered. “If you have no desire to help me, please, just say so. I merely thought that since you offered . . .” I shrugged and stood. “Clearly I was mistaken. Thank you for the kitten.” Turning, I strode toward the doorway.
“Hat-hur. Stop,” Heru commanded, and I heard hints of my Heru in this younger version’s voice.
I halted in front of the curtain, my spine rigid. Something about him calling me by my false name made my smoldering temper flare. I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Then another.
“Ankhesenpepi is a dangerous woman to have as an enemy,” he said. “How did you manage to make one of her so quickly?”
I glanced down at my forearm. The skin was unblemished now, but it had been marred by angry red scratches only the night before. “You,” I said softly, not caring that it was only the partial truth, then passed through the curtain.
11
Reveal & Revile
I returned to Nuin’s rooms after another quick stop by the kitchen, carrying two bowls, both for Rus. One contained an odd concoction of some sort of grain gruel—likely barley—a raw egg yolk, and chopped up chunks of some light meat that had been stewing in a copper pot over the fire a few feet away from the outdoor oven. The cook, Heni, had mixed it all together in a dish the size of a modern cereal bowl, then handed the bowl to me along with another empty one for water.
Rus was asleep on one of the chairs in the sitting room when I passed through the curtain. He was sprawled on his back, his forelegs stretched above his head and his hind legs extended so his rear paws hung over the edge of the chair, and his round little belly bulged comically. It was ridiculously adorable.
I crossed the room and held the bowl of kitten glop near his nose. His whiskers twitched, closely followed by his nose, and within seconds, his eyes were open and he was stretching his neck out to get closer to the food.
I set the bowl on the floor near one of the chair legs. “You’ve got to get up, lazy boy.”
Rus part-jumped, part-fell off the chair in his eagerness to gorge himself.
“Have at it,” I told him, laughing softly.
I retreated into the bedchamber to fill the other dish with water from the washing bowl, then returned to sit on the floor and watch my kitten eat and purr simultaneously. When I tried to pet him, he added a faint growl to the mix.
“Okay, okay . . . your food, not mine. Got it. And here I was so looking forward to having a snack . . .”
At the sound of footsteps, I glanced over my shoulder. Nuin had entered the sitting room, wearing the same white linen kilt wrapped around his lower half that every other man of this time seemed to favor. He crossed the room, crouched on one knee beside me, and took hold of my chin, turning my face from side to side and peering into my eyes.
Frowning, he released me and sighed. “Your withdrawal symptoms are advancing more rapidly than I anticipated,” he said in English. “This will greatly affect the deterioration my sheut causes to your ba. You won’t have time to learn everything you need to learn, complete your task, and rid yourself of the power safely.”
“This day just keeps getting better and better,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck in a vain attempt to relieve the ache. “So what am I supposed to do about the withdrawals? Because having my soul torn apart isn’t really that appealing . . .”
“My dear Alexandra, at this rate, you’ll be dead long before the power within you has a chance to do any such thing.”
Blanching, I stared at him. “What—what are you talking about?”
“At the rate your symptoms are progressing, the bonding withdrawals will kill you within a week unless we can find a way for you to start feeding the bond.”
“But—but I can’t feed the bond . . .”
“You can.”
“No, I really can’t. I tried to feed it—” I blushed at what my words implied. “I mean, not like that, exactly, but I went to talk to Heru . . . asked him to teach me the common tongue so I’d have an excuse to be around him and soak up whatever residual bonding pheromones he might give off, but he said no.” Suddenly overwhelmed, I started blinking rapidly in an effort to hold back tears. “Maybe if we told him, he’d be more understanding . . .”
Nuin shook his head. “I am not convinced that that is the wisest path. Heru has, well, I guess you could call them ‘strong opinions’ about bonding.”
“What do you mean?”
“He views such relationships as weaknesses, and I think you’ll agree that weakness is something both this and your Heru detest.” He paused. “The possibility that it would drive him away . . . it is too great. All would fall apart.”
I stared into his rainbow eyes, so full of intelligence and concern, and swallowed roughly.
Nuin squeezed my shoulder. “You will spend time with Heru. I’ll see to that, but for now, I’d advise against telling him anything about your future relationship. Perhaps when he has come to know you better . . . but not yet.”
Feeling the oddest sense of rejection, I nodded. “How will you get him to spend time with me?” I hated the idea of Heru being forced to be around me, especially when he seemed so opposed to the idea. But then, dying would be a whole lot worse . . .
The hint of a smile teased Nuin’s mouth. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
A wave of cold fear washed over me as I recalled what Dominic had told me in the At—that Marcus was already showing signs of withdrawals as well. “Nuin . . . what about Marcus—Heru in my time? He might be a little tougher than I am, but won’t he eventually be in as much danger?” I frowned, thinking of the only other instance I’d left my own time. “Am I still anchored to my timeline?” If I was, then however many days passed for me in this ancient time, the same number passed for Marcus in my native time. “Can we, I don’t know, unanchor me?”
Nuin shook his head. “There are some limitations to your body that even my sheut can’t overcome. You will forever be anchored to your original timeline, whenever you are.”
“So we only have so much time . . . until Marcus”—I blinked, breaking the seal holding my welling tears at bay—“dies.”
“As matters currently stand, yes.” Nuin reached out, wiping the tears away with his thumb before brushing a strand of hair out of my face and hooking it behind my ear. “Which means we must change how matters currently stand.”
I sniffled. “But . . . how?”
Nuin smiled. “You are about to have your first lesson in how to use your new powers.” The vibrant colors swirling around in his irises dulled for a moment, and I realized he’d entered the At. A few seconds later, he returned, blinking as he rose to his feet. “Come, dear Alexandra, there are two more people you will need for this task.”
“Okay . . .” I cleared my throat and gave what I thought was a pretty valiant effort to pull myself together. I stood, brushing off my backside and stretching in another vain attempt to alleviate the ache sinking ever deeper into my muscles, bones, and joints . . . into my ba, my very soul. “Who else do we need? And what task?”
“Aset and one other, and the task is saving your Heru.”
***
We found Aset in the Hat-hur temple, standing on the ramp just outside the inner sanctuary and speaking with Denai and a fairly pale man with light brown, shoulder-length hair and a trim physique. Aset smiled when she noticed us approaching.
Denai bowed h
er head to Aset and the man as we neared, then turned and bowed to Nuin and me in turn. Her bow to me was deepest, despite what I had confessed to her the previous evening. She slipped away on hurried, bare feet, herding a few stray priestesses as she went. Within seconds of our arrival, Nuin and I were alone with Aset and her companion inside the temple. The man turned to face Nuin and me as we joined him and Aset on the ramp.
For a moment, I forgot all about my and Heru’s apparently impending deaths. Because I recognized this man. I’d met him once, on a bus, before I’d learned what I really was . . . so I’d been unable to recognize him for what he really was—Nejeret. His hair had been dyed blue and styled in short spikes, and his kind, handsome face had been pierced in a number of places, giving him an edgy, menacing look, but his eyes—those pale, almost silvery blue irises—those were the same. He’d claimed they were contacts at the time, but now I knew better.
He was staring at me almost as hard as I was staring at him, a faint, friendly smirk curving his thin lips.
“Nekure,” Nuin said. “I do not believe you have met Alexandra . . . ?”
The man—Nekure—grinned, glancing only briefly at Nuin before returning his focus to me and bowing. “A pleasure, my queen.”
I, too, glanced at Nuin. “I am not your queen.”
Nekure flashed another broad grin and gave a slight sideways nod. “As you wish, my goddess.”
I pressed my lips together and breathed out through my nose. “I am not a—”
“He knows, Lex,” Aset said. She stepped closer to me and, linking our arms, pulled me toward the sanctuary. “He is teasing you.” She glanced over her shoulder as we passed through the doorway. Side by side, it was a tight squeeze, but we managed.
It was cooler inside the sanctuary than it was out in the main temple and just as dim as it had been when I first arrived, but I was still entranced by the colorful hieroglyphs and symbolic depictions of the goddess Hat-hur.
“He is the only other person who knows the truth about who you are and from whence you come,” Aset added, and it took me a moment to realize she was talking about Nekure.
My eyes bulged. “You told him? Aset—you cannot go around telling people about me.”
Aset rolled her eyes as she sat on the floor, pulling me down with her.
I grumbled internally that the limestone floor would probably leave a dirty smudge on my one and only dress, the same one I’d swapped my original shift with Denai for the previous evening. It was a silly concern, but then, I really didn’t love the idea of walking around with a dark smudge on my butt for the next who-knew-how-long.
“Oh, please, Lex,” Aset said. “You are the one who told me I could confide in him. That I had to confide in him.”
Frowning, I shook my head. I felt like I’d been doing a lot of both lately. “You are speaking of when we met in your past?”
Aset nodded. “And your future.”
“Uh-huh . . .”
Nuin and Nekure sat as well, Nekure beside Aset and Nuin beside me, so we made a neat little square inside the sanctuary.
I continued to stare at Aset. “And did I tell you why it was necessary to confide in him?”
“Because he is essential to helping you complete the process that will restore ma’at to the universe.”
I looked at Nuin, then Nekure, then back at Aset. “Which is . . . ?”
Smiling, Aset shook her head. “Not something that you can know yet. You told me that, too.”
I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds as I scanned the faces of these three people who suddenly seemed to know more about my past and future than I did. Again, my gaze settled on Aset. “Is there anything else you should tell me that I told you not to tell me about?” I asked, just a touch petulant.
Aset grinned, a mysterious glint shining in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.
The seconds of silence stretched out, until finally, I sighed. “Alright, Nuin, what is this ‘task’ we came here to do?”
“Nekure,” Nuin said with a nod.
Following Nuin and Aset’s lead, I looked at Nekure. His eyes were closed, and his hand was outstretched in front of him, like he was waiting to catch something dropping from the ceiling.
Without warning, his eyes opened, and his hand closed. When he uncurled his fingers, a tiny, crystalline butterfly rested in the center of his palm.
My eyes widened. “What . . . is that made of At?”
Nekure nodded.
I glanced at Nuin, then back at the other Nejeret. “And you just made it?”
Again, he nodded, and as he did, the little butterfly evaporated in a poof of colorful mist.
“But . . . how? You are just a Netjer-At.” I shook my head slowly and focused on Nuin. “You could do that, but a Netjer-At . . . ?”
“Ah . . . but Nekure is not just a Netjer-At,” Nuin said, his colorful eyes glittering even in the dim light of the sanctuary.
Confusion creased my brow. “He is not?”
“He is my son,” Aset said.
I blinked in surprise and stared at Aset. Her son? “That is impossible. Female Netjer-At are physically incapable of having children.”
“After manifestation,” Nuin said. “Which is why, from the moment my first Netjer-At offspring was born, I forbade any female Netjer-At to lie with a man, Netjer-At or human, prior to manifestation. The resulting offspring would prove to be too powerful of a vessel for Apep, should he come to know of its existence.” Nuin shook his head slowly, regret filling his eyes. “I underestimated my counterpart’s determination . . . and depravity.” He sighed.
“I do not understand.” I stared at Aset. “So . . . how?”
Aset sighed. “I was taken shortly after my twentieth year, just when I started to show the first signs of pre-manifestation. He was a possessed Netjer-At from the lands to the north who had offered his body to Apep willingly, and he stole me away from my mother’s home, wounding Heru in the process. He intended to take me away, to the cold lands, but before he could, I was saved and he was”—her lip curled—“no longer a problem.”
I glanced at Nuin for the briefest moment, and based on his stony expression, concluded that he’d been the one to rescue Aset.
“But I was not saved before he could have his way with me.” I met Aset’s eyes, her hard, challenging stare, and realized that she’d told me about this once before, when I was in the hospital after waking from a coma that resulted from an attempted date rape—“It was a long time ago and no longer has a hold over my life, but I understand the terror,” she’d said.
I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Aset, I am so sorry for what you went through.”
She offered me a tight smile. “I have made my peace with it.” She looked at Nekure, her eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. “And now I have my son, the only child born of two Netjer-At, though only we four and Heru know of his true nature.”
I shook my head and fixed my gaze on Nuin. “But why does that make him anything different from a regular Netjer-At?”
“Because such a union not only generates a child,” Nuin said, “but a new sheut—not nearly as powerful or multifaceted as the one you currently hold within you, but it does give the Netjer-At some unique talents. Nekure is a special case, but aside from him, such a being cannot be allowed to exist.”
“Because it is too risky?” I said.
He nodded.
“So . . .” I looked at Nekure. “Your unique sheut talent is being able create things from the At,” I said, and he nodded. My eyes narrowed, and focusing on Nuin, I switched to English. “How do you know he’s the only one? I mean, think about how many people are alive in my time . . . people who might manifest . . .”
“Ah, but it is a simple task to see who will manifest by searching the possible futures in the At.”
“Except nobody knew I was going to manifest.”
“Because I was cloaking any such futures. I could not let Heru prevent your bir
th because he saw that you’d eventually manifest and bring about the prophecy. All that has happened had to happen exactly as it did so ma’at can be restored.” Nuin shook his head, frowning just a bit. “Come now, dear Alexandra, you already know this.”
My fingers clutched the linen skirt of my dress. “You’re right, I do. But what I don’t know is how ma’at will be restored. What will I have to do?”
He held my gaze but said nothing.
“How will I get rid of this damn power that’s killing me? I need to know, Nuin.”
He interlocked his fingers and rested his hands over his ankles. “In time . . . when you are ready.”
I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, and when I raised my eyelids, I spoke very softly, enunciated very clearly, “I’m willing to trust you because of everything we’ve been through together, and because I know you play the long game and you must have some reason I couldn’t possibly comprehend for not filling me in, but only so long as you swear to me that there really is a way for me to survive this . . . for Marcus to survive this.” I stared at Nuin, watching him not respond. “Swear to me, Nuin. I need this . . .”
He blinked twice, one corner of his mouth lifted in that insanely irritating half-smile he favored, and finally, he nodded. “I swear to you, dear Alexandra, that there is a way both for you and Heru to survive this and restore ma’at to the universe.”
I exhaled and rubbed my hand over the lower half of my face. “Fine. That’s good enough for now.” I paused, hesitating. “So . . . you’ve been extra diligent about checking the At to prevent Nejerettes from getting pregnant before they’ve manifested . . . except for Aset. Why’d you let it happen to her? Why’d you wait until after she was raped to rescue her? Why didn’t you—”
“I was away, Alexandra, and the Nejeret Apep had possessed was very good at cloaking, so no others detected his intentions before he could carry out the act.”
“You were away,” I repeated, not appeased one bit.
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