The Falcon Rises (The Desert Queen Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  I waved my thanks to Menmet, who smiled back at me and then cast her eyes to the ground. Now I could see why. Amenhotep was leaning on one arm watching me. The look in his eyes told me he was thinking intensely about my story. I remembered myself after a moment and so too cast my eyes to the ground. A hush fell over the hall as we waited for word from Pharaoh. Had I made the wrong choice? Said the wrong thing?

  Then he began to clap loudly. I felt relief wash over me as the people joined their Pharaoh in applauding. He stood and called one of his servants to him. “Bring me the gift.” So startled was I that I looked him full in the face without permission.

  “Nefertiti, I had no idea you were such a skilled storyteller. There was much truth in the words you spoke. It is indeed the Aten that is worthy of our worship, and you do me a great honor by including the god in your story.” I blushed and said nothing despite my relief. “This gift is for you. Open it now,” he directed his servant. The old man eased the lid of the wooden box up, and inside was the most wonderful necklace I had ever seen. It was a falcon, its wings spread open, the wingtips held by a gold chain. Encrusted with colorful, shimmering jewels, it almost seemed alive.

  I reached out to touch it. “It is beautiful, Amenhotep. Thank you.”

  He smiled, and deep grooves appeared on either side of his full lips. “You are truly pleased?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “Beyond description. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

  He removed the necklace and stepped behind me. It felt cool on my skin and heavy, much heavier than my green necklace had been. “It is fit for a queen, I think. My queen.”

  He stood in front of me now and surveyed me. Pleased with what he saw, he took my hand and led me around the room so the gathered guests could greet me. Without fail, each applauded loudly and said, “Well done, Queen Nefertiti.” When we finished our walk we left the gathering and walked into my chambers. My servants immediately disappeared, leaving us alone. I could see that someone had scattered silky, fragrant flower petals all over my floor. I followed the path and saw where it ended. In my bed.

  I looked up at Amenhotep, and he said tenderly, “There is no sense in delaying the inevitable, is there? I want to be yours, and you must be mine. Tomorrow, my priests will meet us at the Blue Stone on the way to the temple. There we will be joined in marriage, and from that day forward you will be Queen Nefertiti. Later, we will have a large wedding with many formalities. But tonight, let it be just Nefertiti and Amenhotep, children of the Aten and the Shining Man.”

  I swallowed nervously, suddenly wishing I had drunk more wine. “Very well, Majesty.”

  “No, remember. Tonight I am only Amenhotep.” He leaned against a nearby cabinet. He was tall, so tall that I felt small standing next to him. He removed his crown and set it to the side, running his hands through his short hair. Following his example I released my long hair from the ebony pins that Menmet had poked in my hair.

  As I reached for the necklace he said, “Let me help you.” I turned and lifted my auburn curls. He removed the heavy necklace easily, and I could hear it clink as he set it next to the crown. He kissed the bare skin of my neck, and I froze as warmth filled my body. Amenhotep rubbed the arch of my neck and let his hands wander over my shoulders. I faced him and kissed him freely. His hands were in my hair, and his kisses became more urgent. Images of Alexio tried to stir in my mind, but I refused to think about him. I enjoyed the moment, Amenhotep’s fragrance and the expert touch of his hands. I could see he was no inexperienced boy but a man who knew how to please a woman.

  Breaking away from his embrace for a moment, I untied the gown and stepped out of it. He watched me with an appreciative, serious smile, and we walked to the bed. He stripped his tunic off quickly, and I let my eyes drift over his athletic body. As I stood naked in the cool chamber I felt a moment of doubt. What was I doing? Then reality set in. What choice did I have? I remembered Queen Tiye’s words again. Yes, I would be a queen and not a prisoner. Who was to say that this was not what the Shining Man wanted? We fell into the soft bed together; our hands were hungry for one another and our kisses increased our passion.

  “Amenhotep,” I said in a whisper. He shuddered slightly, so I said his name again as a small smile curved on my lips. I refused to let my mind race. I would be present in this moment. So what if I did not love him with the white-hot fervor of my first love? He was worthy of love, and I had been chosen to love him. I could not deny that I wanted him.

  “Nefertiti,” he said, “You are mine now. All mine.”

  “Yes,” I said as he entered me. “I am yours.”

  Despite the building passion between us, Amenhotep did not hurry. He moved slowly at first, kissing my breasts and face. He was playful and patient. I got to know his body and felt as if he completely enjoyed mine. I had not expected that. It was a happy surprise.

  Sometime later, we lay in the tangled sheets of my bed. His fingertips traced my face, and I kissed them.

  “Do you think you will ever love me?” he asked me quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Love is not easily produced, and sometimes it never comes. I am no fool in these matters.”

  “I am sure you are not, Amenhotep. I think there are seeds of love here in this very bed and in our hearts. Let us water the seeds.”

  He smiled, showing his beautiful teeth. His eyes were now lined with kohl, but I remembered how he looked as the gardener. Those were kind eyes, the eyes of a good man. Yes, I could love a good man. “You are very wise. From whence comes such wisdom?”

  I thought of Farrah, Mina and my father. “My tribe. They are a wise people.” He kissed my hand, and we looked at one another as the moonlight fell in on us from the open window.

  “We are your tribe now. We are your people,” he corrected me.

  “I know this. Forgive me.” I kissed his hand back. “I perceive that you are a good leader—one who cares about his people. For that, I am grateful.”

  “I have so much to do. It weighs on me sometimes,” he admitted. “I am glad to have a partner in this dream of mine. A city—no, a kingdom—that serves the true god. The Aten.”

  “You have to know that not everyone will be happy about such an idea,” I warned him.

  “I know this full well. One day I will tell you about my brother; then you will know how aware I am of the price that has been paid. But no talk of kingdoms tonight. We are just two people, not kings or queens. Remember?”

  Feeling bold, I slid out from under the sheet and laid my head upon his chest. I wrapped my leg around him and held him close. If this was all I had, I would make the most of it. I heard his heart beating evenly and loudly. I refused to close my eyes, for I did not want to dream about Alexio. Amenhotep caressed my arm, and soon we were kissing. After a few moments, I could feel the urgency rise in him and he was covering me again.

  “What are you doing?” I said with a playful laugh.

  “I am watering those seeds you were talking about.”

  I laughed again and kissed him wildly. Sometime close to morning, we fell asleep. I did not dream about anyone or anything. I woke feeling tired but peaceful. Amenhotep was gone, but Menmet drew my bath and prepared me for morning worship. This would be my life now. I was at peace with that. If I could help Amenhotep lead his people to peace and protect my own, so much the better. At least my life would have been worth it.

  “Someone did not sleep long enough, I see. Our Pharaoh is an amorous man.” As Menmet’s statement was not a question, I did not feel compelled to answer.

  “My hair is a mess. Perhaps today is a good day to don one of those beautiful wigs.”

  “Oh yes, my lady. You will look like a proper Egyptian then.” She knew by my look that I was offended but quickly apologized. “Please, lady queen. I did not mean that.”

  “I am too tired to worry about it. Help me get ready.”

  “The water is hot. Enjoy the bath, and I will go find you somet
hing beautiful to wear. Is that acceptable?”

  I nodded and stepped into the water, the sore parts of my body thankful for Menmet’s thoughtfulness. I called to her, “Nothing that shows my breasts, Menmet.” She obeyed me, and somehow at the appointed time I was ready to stand with Amenhotep to welcome the sun. This was the first time I had worn an Egyptian headdress, and I felt nervous about it. When I saw Amenhotep’s face I knew I had made the right choice.

  “My queen,” he greeted me with a look of appreciation.

  “My Pharaoh.” I nodded at him, trying not to picture him as I had seen him last night. We took our places aboard the deck and, as the attendees watched, made our morning oblations to the Aten as it rose. When it was done, we disembarked with plans to make our way to the Blue Stone. I had never been, but I was anxious to see Amenhotep’s kingdom—and my new kingdom.

  As we stepped off the boat I saw we had a visitor waiting for us. Ramose. Immediately I thought the worst. Something was wrong at home. Zerzura had fallen. Oh no! Dutifully the rugged-looking general slid off his horse, wisely remembering that no one should be higher than the Pharaoh.

  “General, I am surprised to see you here. What has happened?”

  “Forgive me, my Pharaoh. I have disturbing news to share with you. If we could speak.” He indicated that he wished to speak in private, but Amenhotep did not grant him an audience.

  “You may speak before my queen, General. What has happened? Out with it.” I could see Amenhotep was not a man who was accustomed to asking anyone anything twice. I warned myself to remember this. Ramose’s face demonstrated his surprise at the announcement that I was now queen.

  “My wife has been murdered by the queen’s servant. I seek permission to pursue this girl. I believe she has gone back to her Meshwesh home.”

  “And you had to come out here to ask me this?” Ramose had something else to say, but he refrained when Amenhotep raised his hand. “What is this servant’s name?” Amenhotep asked.

  “Ayn,” Ramose replied.

  “Do you know anything of this?” Amenhotep asked me.

  “Ayn came with me, yes, but I know of no plan to kill Inhapi. As far as I knew, Ayn and Ramose were…friendly.” I added, “Ayn would not kill unless she were threatened.”

  “We have no time for a trial now. You may search for the girl, but if she is in Zerzura, do not pursue her. My wife will make sure she is returned in that case. I do not want to send the army of Egypt to steal back one girl. Is that all?”

  Ramose wisely held his tongue. Amenhotep continued, “Then that is my command. You may retrieve the girl, but do not harm her. If she has gone home, you will wait. My wife will arrange her return when we return to Thebes.”

  We climbed aboard the litter prepared for us, and I watched as Ramose and his man returned to Thebes. He had not gotten the audience he wanted, and now I had the Pharaoh’s ear. How could Ayn have done such a thing? Why? There would be time to discover that truth, but now was not such a time. This was my wedding day.

  I felt Amenhotep’s hand in mine and squeezed it. He had been correct. A crown was a heavy thing to wear. Perhaps that was why the mekhma never wore crowns. Serving our people had been a joyful thing. But now I was more than the mekhma of the Meshwesh.

  I was truly the Queen of Egypt.

  Epilogue

  The Falcon Rises—Pah

  The woman’s eyes glistened as she rubbed my skin with mint oil. The cool sensation soothed my red skin, which had been burned during my trip to Thebes. My head itched still, even after the round-hipped priest had shaved my head and rid me of the ragged haircut left by the Kiffians.

  Why was I here? I could not remember clearly. I took the cup of clear water that the priestess, Magg, handed me. Magg, that was her name. As I drank, I felt refreshed for a moment. It was in these moments of clarity that I remembered who I was—or at least who I had been.

  And what I had done.

  Now here was Magg again covering me with a comfortable, loose robe and leading me to the balcony that overlooked the center of the city. We were up high—higher than any hill I had climbed. I caught my breath as I wrapped my arms around a green painted column. The wind whipped my robe, tossing it in the air and showing my bare legs. Magg pointed and clapped and said something to me in her unintelligible, toothless language.

  I looked down in the direction of her pudgy finger and saw her. A woman on her knees before a massive gold throne. Musicians were playing a frantic tune, and the people cheered the woman’s name.

  Nefertiti! Nefertiti!

  The woman beside me repeated it, “Nefertiti! Nefertiti!” She nudged me with her arm, coaxing me to say it too.

  It was my sister. I released the column and slowly walked to the edge of the balcony to get a closer look. I could not stand without feeling dizzy, so I knelt and leaned over the edge. My sister raised her hands and said some words that I did not hear. The crowd roared in response, and the man who sat before her rose, reaching out his hands to her. She slowly ascended the steps and took the seat beside him. The meaning was clear. My sister Nefret had her own crown now. She would rule as the Queen of Egypt, and I…

  Why was I here? Alexio! I turned to Magg. “Where is Alexio? Where is my husband?”

  “No man here. No man at all. This is the home of Isis, and you are her priestess. No man.”

  “I have to go home. Why am I here?”

  She said something else I did not understand and waved around her. “Home of Isis. You home.”

  “No!” I said as I ran back into the temple and toward the dark green doors with the long golden handles. As I ran I could see the doors were closing. “No!” I screamed as I ran faster. The doors closed in silence, and I beat my fists against them until I fell to the ground in a heap.

  Now I remembered how I got here. I had been walking. Walking with Astora. We were looking for the white flowers for my father’s tea. He was better now but needed the flowers to get stronger. I had kissed Alexio goodbye and promised him I would return soon. The night before I had slept the entire night without any nightmares, although I did see Farrah and Paimu hovering outside my window. Sometimes I forgot my name and the names of the people around me, but he was always there. My Alexio.

  See, Nefret? It is me he loves. You left, and now it is me. Just me.

  Alexio, help me!

  That is what I shouted when Astora led me outside. She struck me, and I fell to the ground. When I woke up, I was heaped across the back of a camel and my shoulders were burning in the sun. I screamed and screamed, but in the desert, there is no one to help you. I thought my captors were Kiffians, but I soon learned they were not. Just slavers and mercenaries. They were sent to find me, and they had.

  Then I passed out. I woke up again and was staring into the eyes of the bright-eyed priestess. Who had done this? Nefret? Astora? I could not imagine, but I was tired, too tired to cry or struggle anymore. I walked back to the balcony, unafraid of any punishment the priestess might give me. She grunted at me and waved at a small table of food. I grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it in my mouth. It was stale and hard to swallow. This was not chula bread at all.

  No more bread from home for me. Would I ever see home again?

  The sound of her name echoed throughout the city: Nefertiti! Nefertiti! I looked up in the sky expecting to see a bird, and I was not disappointed. Others would not see him, but I could see his silvery outline there, just above the courtyard where my sister now sat.

  Farrah had been right. The falcon would rise—and it had. Now nothing would stop it from soaring above us all.

  I had been wrong. I was not the falcon.

  I had always been the Bee-Eater.

  Read on for an excerpt from The Kingdom of Nefertiti,

  Book 3 of The Desert Queen Series

  The servants lifted my heavy robes as I took my seat upon my husband’s throne. The gold fabric draped over the back and across the dais smoothly under their experienced hands. I held the h
eavy brass crook and flail in my hands; the weight seemed easier to manage this morning. At least now the regular courtiers appeared less shocked when I sat in Amenhotep’s place. He had been gone two months now—this had been his idea.

  “The people need to see you as Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. Lead them, my wife.” His confidence in me gave me strength, but it did little to put my heart at ease. He was, after all, in the arms of Queen Tadukhipa even now. I had hotly contested this arrangement, but after a visit from the Hittite-Mitanni king, I could hardly stand in my husband’s way. If we wanted peace with the Hittites, Amenhotep would have to honor the marriage put in place by his father. How strange these Egyptians were! Sons inheriting wives, concubines and harems. It was a strange thing indeed, but my husband assured me his heart remained with me. Like so many things in my life, this matter was out of my control. I would make the best of it. And as Queen Tiye often reminded me, the prize had not been won. Amenhotep had not yet announced to anyone who would be his Great Royal Wife; however, my rule these months was very likely a test, she whispered to me during our evening meal last night.

  Another test in a life of testing, I thought wryly. I knew Queen Tiye hated Tadukhipa beyond reason, almost as much as she hated the priests of Amun. She seemed to have little love for anyone except her dead son Thutmose and, of course, Pharaoh. Poor Sitamen was ever her shadow.

  Memre informed me that more royal visitors had come to the Theban court, ready to pay homage to Pharaoh. I sat up straight as Queen Tiye came to stand beside me and Huya bowed before us. With a clap of his hands, the outer doors opened and I blinked against the sunlight that poured in through the throne room. My wig itched and my stomach rumbled, but I kept my face like stone as the small contingent of foreigners approached.