His desire for her burned through his body as she was just within his grasp. If only he could marry her. Why did he continue to entertain the idea of her when it was all in vain? “Yes, my Pharaoh.”
“You can only protect me.” She chewed her lip and lifted her chin.
He nodded. “Yes, my Pharaoh.”
The day waned and the sun was almost set behind the Nile. As the shadows of the evening fell, the dark circles under his eyes from the countless nights he had stood guard by her bedchambers became more apparent and signified his dedication to her. Nothing had happened thus far to her, and all three military leaders—her father, Ay, General Paaten, and Commander Horemheb—were in Aketaten should she need them. The riots were in Men-nefer and Waset, and they were put down. Perhaps she should let him sleep this night.
She put a hand on his armor. “Let Khabek and Hori guard my door tonight. You need your sleep.”
“I will stand guard at your door,” he said, turning his shoulders to her. “You said you don’t trust them.”
“But you are tired. I can see it in your face. You have lost your appetite too,” she said, looking at his thinner frame.
“Food does not taste as good as it used to,” he admitted.
His furrowed brow told her she was not going to get her way this time. “All right, Commander.” She tilted her head. “Will you guard my door tonight with Khabek?”
“For you, I will do anything,” he whispered.
She smiled, outlining his face once again with her eyes before turning to go to her bedchambers.
When they arrived, he opened the door for her. Her steward, Aitye, and lesser servants stood waiting for Pharaoh to enter.
“Sleep well, my Pharaoh.”
“Thank you, my Commander.”
He smiled at the hidden meaning. They held each other’s gaze for a moment.
She entered, ready for her bath.
As Horemheb stood outside her door waiting for the servants to leave her bedchambers, his eyelids drooped. Finally they came out, and Aitye, the last to leave, told Horemheb, “She preferred to be alone tonight. There are no others with her.”
He only nodded in response.
Soon Khabek came to the door for his post as Horemheb tried to hide a yawn.
Khabek cleared his throat. “Tired, Commander?”
“Aren’t military men always?” he responded with a smirk as Khabek stood next to him.
Khabek dropped his spear before scrambling to pick it up again. Rubbing his neck, he cleared his throat again.
“Something on your mind, Khabek?” Horemheb asked, eyeing his movements.
“No,” he said quickly.
There was a tightness around the young guard’s eyes, and Horemheb noticed Khabek had not made eye contact with him that evening.
“Do you—”
“I don’t want to talk,” Khabek huffed, and looked off down the hallway. He shrugged, muttering by way of explanation: “Lady problems.”
Horemheb snorted and nodded. “Don’t we all?”
The soft crackle of the torchlight slowed the blink of his eyes after a while.
“Commander, sit down and rest for a while,” Khabek offered. “You are awake for most of the day and night. I will keep watch and wake you should I see or hear something.”
Horemheb shook his head but sat down anyway. Leaning his head against the doorframe, he looked up to Khabek and said, “Can I trust you?”
“Always, Commander,” he said.
Horemheb was too tired to see the sweat forming on the man’s hands.
Losing control, Horemheb fell asleep.
Horemheb awoke with a start.
There’d been a faint clash. He jumped to his feet.
Khabek was nowhere to be seen. Looking around, Horemheb decided to open the door to Nefertiti’s room to check on her, and to his surprise, saw a figure looming over her bed. A ball of nausea dropped hard in his stomach as he thought he had lost his love at his own negligence. Grief muted him as he ran to the figure and knocked him to the ground. Horemheb pulled out his chest dagger just as the man grunted and sprung to his feet.
Horemheb heard Nefertiti coughing and struggling to breathe.
She’s alive! he thought as he slashed at the man, churning up more vigor in his attack.
The man jumped back, grabbing a spear that lay nearby, and thrust it at Horemheb. Turning, he leaned away from the spear tip as it sliced through the air by his chest, barely knocking his bronze armor. Horemheb grabbed his khopesh with his other hand, and the next time the spear jabbed at him, he spun and hacked off the tip. The attacker looked to his disabled weapon, then broke the spear’s handle across his thigh into two pieces of wood that he held in each hand. He swung them in front of his body as if to ready himself for another clash.
“Wood against bronze makes for no fight,” Horemheb declared.
In answer, the man threw one handle at him and turned to run.
After knocking the piece of wood away, Horemheb saw the man had nearly escaped and without a further thought he threw his dagger, nailing the man in the back. The man fell into the hallway, coughing and struggling to breathe.
Horemheb looked to Nefertiti, who had curled up on her bed watching him fight her attacker. A breath escaped his lungs, relieved she was alive; then he went to end her attacker. Keeping his foot on the attacker’s hand, Horemheb pulled the dagger from his back and turned him over.
Khabek stared up at him.
“You?” Horemheb asked with a cold stare.
“You are lucky you fell asleep, Commander—they paid me to kill you, too, if you stayed watch—” Khabek coughed up blood.
The urge to destroy him caused Horemheb to shove his dagger in Khabek’s chest. “You disgust me. You took an oath.” His lip curled as he grabbed a fistful of Khabek’s tunic at his neck, lifting him bodily off the ground.
“She is not Amun’s divinely appointed . . .” His voice trailed off, and then he died.
Horemheb pulled his dagger out of Khabek’s chest and let him fall to the ground with a thud.
Nefertiti’s soft cries pulled him away from his anger toward the royal guard.
A servant’s eyes grew big upon turning the corner and seeing the dead guard.
“You there,” Horemheb barked. “Go inform General Paaten and Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay, that one of the royal guard broke his oath.”
The servant shrunk into the stone wall behind him, his sights glued to the dead man on the floor.
“Go now!”
The servant looked to Horemheb and the bloody blade in his hand, then sprinted off down the corridor.
Horemheb used the dead man’s tunic to wipe the blood from his dagger before returning it to its sheath. He stood looking down at Khabek and shook his head in disgust. Then he turned and entered back into Pharaoh’s chambers.
“My Pharaoh?” he asked as he drew near to her bed.
The full weight of Nefertiti’s body slammed into his as she threw her arms around him. Her tears fell on his neck and her quick, shallow breaths dropped on his chest.
“You are safe now, my Pharaoh,” he said, rubbing her back. “You are safe, my Nefertiti,” he whispered in her ear, breathing in her freshly perfumed scent, not knowing what he would do if he had been the reason she died. The only light came from the hallway, and the partially opened door kept them in the darkness. His hands roamed over her body, making sure she was not hurt, greedily feeling her warmth under his fingers.
“Where were you?” Her shaky voice and body reverberated to his touch.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer her. “I’m here now,” he said instead. “I’m sorry.” He turned his head into her neck. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, hating that he had succumbed to his need of sleep. He calmed his own heart and breaths so it could be easier for her to feel safe beside him.
She pulled away from him, letting her lips slide by his. “Horemheb,” she whispered, desperately holding on to h
im as her source of strength, “thank you for saving me.”
“Always,” he said, pulling his hand up to caress her face.
“He . . . he had his hands on m-my face and n-neck,” she stuttered, trying to keep the memory from coming, and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “I knocked the candle to the floor hoping you would hear.”
“I did,” he said, nodding to reassure her, pulling her body closer to his, realizing how close he’d come to losing her. “I’m sorry, Nefertiti. Please forgive me. I nearly failed you.”
Her heart raced his as he cupped the side of her face.
“But you didn’t.” She leaned forward again and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “You saved me.”
Horemheb parted his mouth and leaned into another kiss, which she received with an open heart. In the darkness, they could be whatever they wanted.
Clamor in the hallway made their kiss draw to an end. Their shoulders pulled back, but their faces remained close. Horemheb smiled; he could feel the smile upon her face with his hand. He picked her up and let her stand on the floor.
Drooping down, he spotted the scattered candle in the light coming from the doorway. He picked it up and lit it and then placed it back on the nightstand just as Ay and Paaten came rushing in, letting the full light of the hallway fall into the bedroom. Chief royal guard Jabari, behind them, looked over Khabek and kicked the dead man in the head, cursing beneath his breath.
“Are you hurt?” Ay said as he rushed to his daughter.
“No, I am fine. Horem— . . . Commander Horemheb saved me just in time,” she said as she peered over to Horemheb.
“Thank you, Commander,” Ay said as he pulled his daughter into his embrace. “Oh, my lotus blossom, I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you too.”
“Father, I’m fine,” Nefertiti repeated, and shrugged him off.
“What happened?” General Paaten barked at Commander Horemheb, advancing toward his subordinate.
“Khabek attacked her—tried to suffocate her. I attacked him, and he tried to flee. I killed him in his escape. He said he was paid—I assume by Pawah,” Horemheb said matter-of-factly, standing in a soldier stance face-forward.
“That cursed Pawah.” General Paaten clenched his jaw, looking down at the dead man. Then his hot glare landed back on Horemheb. “How did Khabek get in her room and try to suffocate her without you knowing in the first place?” Paaten leaned forward in Horemheb’s face.
Ay pulled Nefertiti close, continually asking her if she was hurt to try and distract her from Horemheb’s answer. Horemheb’s cheeks flushed; he knew the dark circles under his eyes gave him away. “I thought we could trust Khabek.”
“Trust no one.” General Paaten sent a finger into Horemheb’s chest. “Take the night, Commander. I will resume your watch.” Then he turned to Jabari. “Get that mess cleaned up.”
“I have already sent for the servants,” Jabari replied.
General Paaten’s gaze fell back to Horemheb. “I said take the night, Commander.”
“Yes, General,” Horemheb muttered, and began to leave, stealing one last look at Nefertiti before he passed through the open doors. He’d thought he would never taste her lips again, and yet there in the aftermath of the chaos in Khabek’s assassination attempt, he did. He smiled.
Maybe the universe might bestow upon me a life with her, after all . . . somehow . . . in some way.
Later that night, as Horemheb lay in bed, a messenger came to him.
“Pharaoh thanks the Commander for saving her life.” The messenger reached out and handed him something.
“What is this?” Horemheb asked as he tried to make out the trinket.
“Pharaoh says it is the ring her father gave her when she became a woman. It was her mother’s,” the messenger said. “She gives it to you as a token of appreciation.”
The messenger left before he could respond. He rubbed the golden ring and felt a jewel in it. He placed it on his pinky finger, the only finger it would fit.
“I will cherish it always, my Nefertiti.”
Horemheb awoke remembering the night before. The thought of him losing Nefertiti swarmed his mind, but, looking to his hand, he saw her ring on his finger and closed his eyes in relief. Then he smiled, remembering her kiss. He rubbed her ring and let out a breath.
“If nothing else, I have this to remember her by.”
Pulling himself from bed, he brushed his finger on his bottom lip. He could almost taste her again. But then he hung his head. Unless Pawah and Tut were out of the picture, he could never marry her.
I would gladly get rid of that Pawah, he thought.
“But the boy . . .” He shook his head and drew a deep breath.
If I got rid of Pawah, then maybe I could talk to Tut. Maybe he would allow us a secret marriage. He adores Nefertiti. Maybe. It’s the only chance I have.
He pulled on his leather tunic and bronze armor, tied his belts, and left his room to start the day with a new mission in mind: he was going to find someone to get close enough to Pawah to kill him—and make it look like an accident so the people did not rise up against Pharaoh for the slaying of their perceived savior.
Chapter 21
The Time of Love
Two seasons passed, and General Paaten requested a private audience with Nefertiti.
“Has any progress been made with Pawah?” she asked as she stood and walked down the platform steps to General Paaten.
“We are having trouble . . . it is hard to tell whose loyalty is unbroken or whose is willing to break.” General Paaten scratched the back of his neck. “Commander Horemheb seeks opportunity as well.” He refused to tell Nefertiti her father was also scouring his contacts to find some way to get rid of Pawah.
“Is there no one loyal to the throne anymore?”
“There are many who still remain loyal, but Pawah pays those around him. He knows exactly where his men’s loyalties lie. We are at a disadvantage.” General Paaten looked away from Nefertiti, not wanting to fail her, but doubted his own ability—his first instance of doubt in a long time.
“Why can’t we just put hemlock in his drink like he orchestrated with Akhenaten and Smenkare?” Nefertiti whispered, and peered up at General Paaten.
“Who among our allies can get close enough to him to do so?” General Paaten asked. “We’ve tried that many times. Once he even made his servant, whom we had paid more than what Pawah was paying him, drink his cup when the servant wiped the cup with a hemlock-laced cloth after tasting. We’ve lost many men in our attempts, and the more we lose, the more Pawah’s loyalties grow stronger. They see him thwart our attempts and he grows larger than life to them. The more he kills our assassins, the more afraid those loyal to him become, and they are less likely to aid us.”
“Do not strike until you know it will be successful,” Nefertiti ordered.
“All the previous times, we thought it would be,” General Paaten softly said. “It would be so easy to have one of my archers just pick him off—” He flicked his thumb and finger together in imitation of a bow releasing an arrow, but then looked to Nefertiti and regained his composure. “But, in the current situation, we would be hard pressed to do even that, especially since we don’t know who all is loyal to the throne.”
“General, I tasked you with his death. See to it that he dies and does not cause a riot. Do not strike until you are certain death will follow.”
“Thus Pharaoh says,” General Paaten said, and bowed to her before leaving the throne room.
Nefertiti paced back and forth in her room as the sun waned. The General was no closer to Pawah than he was when he’d started. The morning’s messages raced through her mind. She dreaded Horemheb coming to stand watch by her bed and, knowing she couldn’t hide this from him, having to tell him what troubled her.
After her servants had left for the night, the door creaked open.
“In peace, my Pharaoh,” Horemheb said as he entered.
&nb
sp; He began with his official report, as he had done in all the nights previous since her attack. “Royal guards Hori and Ineni stand watch for your daughters, and chief royal guard Jabari stands guard outside your door. I stand guard by your bed, per your command.”
The door closed behind him, and they were both happy to slough off the formalities as the sun set.
For the last two seasons, Horemheb had felt as if a burden had been lifted from his chest as he had come to her room every night and slowly the barriers he had put between them dwindled; he became more hopeful that Tut would allow him to be with Nefertiti—and if not, he resolved that he would cherish this time with her regardless the outcome. Behind closed doors and with the servants dismissed, they could be together—no one dared to accuse Pharaoh and the Commander. For all they knew, he did indeed stand guard by her bed.
He pulled the nearby chair against the doors just in case Jabari decided to renege on his oath as well. The past season Horemheb had tried at every turn to get rid of Pawah, working with General Paaten—it seemed an impossible task—but he put it out of his mind for tonight. He turned around and saw her pacing come to an end. He rushed to her, pulled her into his arms, and embraced her with a lingering kiss.
“What bothers you, my Nefertiti?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Our time together is limited.”
Her whisper soured his stomach.
“Pawah?” he asked as he settled his hands on her waist.
“No.” Her body rocked slightly, afraid to tell him what she had done. “I . . . made a mistake.”
Horemheb tried to think what her mistake might be that would limit their time together—a mistake that did not have to do with Pawah? His mind raced, brining up every conversation, until he landed on a small, insignificant memory.
“The Hittite prince?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “He comes after the next harvest.” She clutched his leather tunic. “I sent a letter the morning after the night I thought you would never hold me again . . . the morning you left.”
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