Taken (Chosen by Egypt Book 1)

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Taken (Chosen by Egypt Book 1) Page 3

by Lilith T. Bell


  “It’s a ridiculous agreement, Eili. You’re accomplishing nothing by doing this,” her father said as he snatched up a bundle of Eiluhepa’s belongings.

  Her father had been a powerful man and a feared warrior in his youth, but civil war and being driven out of Hatti had aged him. Eiluhepa felt a wave of guilt, knowing that this would be a new burden on him. It had been her father’s desire to save their nation from King Urhi-Teshub’s incompetence that had led to their exile, but none of it could have ever happened if it hadn’t been for Eili.

  She gently took back the bundle from her father. “I failed to fight them off. This is what I deserve.”

  “They surrounded the village and sent in a few of their men to make you attack and reveal yourselves. The best you could have done is died fruitlessly.”

  “Death is more honorable than defeat.”

  “I suppose Tarhun should have died after he was defeated by Illuyanka.”

  The reference to their sky god made Eiluhepa pause. Tarhun had failed in his first battle with the great serpent Illuyanka and lost his eyes and heart. For his revenge, he had married the mother goddess Arinna and fathered a son, Sarruma. When his son was grown, he married the serpent’s daughter and Tarhun demanded his eyes and heart as a wedding gift from the serpent. Once they were returned, he went to do battle with the serpent again. But his son learned of how he had been an instrument of vengeance and followed his father to the battle, demanding his father kill him alongside Illuyanka. And Tarhun did.

  Hearing her father mention that story was startling. Yutis had been taken from her because the Egyptians had failed to give their protection as promised. In many ways, Eili had lost her own eyes and heart that day, as she no longer saw the world with any joy in it, nor did she expect to ever love again. The Hittites made war their art and vengeance was the inspiration. Was her father suggesting she follow Tarhun’s example?

  “I’m sure his son would have preferred that.”

  Her father’s hand came down on her shoulder, turning Eiluhepa to make her meet his eyes. “Yutis gave you no sons before he died, Eili, and your word given at the point of a sword is not meant to be kept.”

  Eili felt as though her head had become impossibly light. Though she stood with her feet on the floor of her hut, it seemed she was floating far above and looking down upon the scene. She could feel the shifting tides of time and destiny. Nothing would ever be the same after this. It was a rare knowledge, as usually it seemed that fate hit her blind. This time she understood she was creating her own fate.

  When she spoke, Eili’s voice sounded distant and hollow to her ears. She barely felt her own tongue moving in her mouth. “Killing the prince does nothing. Pharaoh likely has a hundred more sons. I honestly doubt he knows all of their names.”

  “The prince isn’t your true enemy, but he can give you your rightful vengeance.”

  “How?”

  “Wouldn’t you have done anything for the man you loved?”

  And with that the numbness faded. Eili felt warm and alive and a bit sick to her stomach. Itamununemwia was young for a position in command and clearly desired her. The young still had fresh hearts, not yet scarred by disappointment. They could love easily, with no walls to protect them. They could be destroyed so easily that way as well. It was a cruel thing to consider, but even if she couldn’t manage to use the prince for vengeance against her uncle, she could at least have some small measure of retribution by breaking the heart of the man who conquered them.

  “What should I do, then?”

  “I’d assume it would be like making anyone else love you. Find what he enjoys and give it to him.”

  But what did the prince enjoy? Eili knotted her brows together as he thought over that. Making others submit. Having control. Apparently, he also enjoyed Eili’s body, if the looks the prince had been giving her during negotiations were anything to go by. In some ways his tastes seemed similar to Yutis’s, yet taken to more of an extreme. Eiluhepa had to force herself not to relive the very private battle she and the prince had waged on one another’s bodies.

  Once Eili was finished packing her meager belongings, there were stoic goodbyes. Some of the village came out to see her off, but many didn’t. After the raids and so many deaths, the only people she remained close to were her parents.

  When the Egyptians left, Eili was directed to the prince’s chariot, where she was largely ignored except for the occasional question about the region. As night approached and they stopped to make camp she was surprised that she wasn’t put to menial labor. Instead, the prince kept her by his side to ask more pointed questions.

  “Our scouts have found a camp here,” the prince explained as he showed a rough map on papyrus to Eili. “They appear to mostly be Assyrians, but they have Hittite slaves. Are you familiar with them?”

  Eili frowned deeply as she looked at the Egyptian map. It was different from how the Hittites drew theirs, but easy enough to understand and she was familiar with the region. “I believe those are the ones who raided us last year.”

  “So close? Why haven’t you struck back?”

  The Egyptians could potentially have enough power to take on the raiders. It would be strangely fitting, to help one enemy destroy the other. “It’s more than simply a camp. They use that spot frequently for hunting or raids, but they can quickly retreat back to their walled town. May I?”

  Itamununemwia nodded and handed his stylus to Eili, who laid the papyrus down flat on the prince’s makeshift table as she began drawing. She had a skilled hand at it, though had done little in the way of decoration since Yutis had died.

  “If you don’t know where it is, it’s easy to miss. They have it tucked behind these hills and retreat there when an attack comes. We didn’t have the manpower to keep attacking and trap them in there until their supplies ran out.”

  The prince made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to stay here for months at siege.”

  “They’re skilled and brave. They’ll fight to the last man.”

  There was no response. Eili glanced up from the map to see the prince looking at her with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t need to fight every last man. I just need to find that one moment of weakness.”

  Eili felt heat flood her face in a flush as she glanced away quickly, thinking of her own moment of weakness. “What do you mean?”

  “No defense is perfect. There’s always a flaw, some weakness to exploit.”

  “Ah. Of course. You have a talent for finding the weak one, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know if I’d put it that way. I’m more concerned about getting what I want than glory in battle. It’s served me well.”

  “And what is it you want from these people?”

  “I want to conquer them.”

  Something about the way he said that sent a chill down Eili’s spine. “Tribute and their allegiance, like with my people?”

  “No. Your people informed us of what they were doing and have done little except fail to pay Pharaoh tribute this year. These people have been on the border long enough to build walls around themselves. They’re clearly not peaceful Assyrian merchants, as they have some of your people as slaves. These can’t be shown any mercy.”

  Eili found the word mercy coming from the Egyptian to be almost laughable. His mercy for Eili’s people was virtual enslavement. What he would do without mercy might be downright terrifying. Eili considered asking what that might entail, but before she could speak the prince had already switched back to Egyptian and was giving instructions to his captain.

  With a shock, Eili realized they’d spent the entire conversation speaking her native language, Nesili. The prince switched between the two languages so naturally Eili had taken it for granted that the prince wasn’t using Egyptian to speak to her. Eili’s own Egyptian was perfectly serviceable and she imagined she’d be practicing it on a daily basis now, but the fact that Itamununemwia casually spoke Nesili was surprising. Som
ehow, Eiluhepa would have expected a warrior prince to have not bothered with things translators could do for him.

  “If we come around from the north we can move to surround the walls and prevent the raiders from getting inside. They’ll be forced to fight us out in the open instead,” the prince was saying as he showed the captain what Eili had drawn.

  “What prevents them from simply running away and leaving the town under siege?”

  “I’ll direct six hundred of our men from the north, while you come with the remaining men to push the raiders back toward the walls. It should be a noisy approach with a great deal of dust so they go back toward their city all the faster.”

  The captain chuckled, nodding in understanding. “Like herding cattle to slaughter.”

  “Precisely. Their own cleverness becomes their death.”

  Chapter Eight

  The prince and the captain continued to discuss their plans through the evening meal, largely ignoring Eiluhepa. Hours passed before the captain, guards and scribe all left the tent and Eiluhepa and the prince were alone. Apparently once she had given him her word not to act against Itamununemwia, the prince had decided she was completely trustworthy. Such surety struck her as arrogance.

  Eili silently watched the prince strip off his clothing for sleep, revealing a taut, well-muscled body that fairly gleamed with strength and health. His shoulders were broad, but he still carried about him some of the sleek grace of youth, rather than the paunch of belly she’d seen on so many powerful men as they aged. His body was devoid of hair, all the better to highlight the definition of his muscles and show his body to its full glory. There had been stories of the Egyptians pulling their body hair out with honey and strips of linen. Apparently it was true. Not even a fine trail wound its way downward from his navel. No curls framed his manhood, nothing to give a hint of modesty. Eili found herself intrigued by the thought of feeling that smooth skin against herself.

  “Where should I sleep?”

  The prince gave a small start, his head jerking to the side to stare at Eili with those eerie yellow eyes., reflecting the light of the lamps back at her. “Wherever you can find space. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  Clearly he hadn’t. Eili had never been taken as a captive before, but it seemed to her that a man experienced in the matter would have made plans for what to do with her at night. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Three years older than Eiluhepa. Yutis had been the same age Itamununemwia was now when they had been exiled. The thought of how much had changed since then was daunting. “You’re barely a man.”

  “I assure you, I’m fully a man.”

  Her earlier thoughts of seducing Itamununemwia returned in force. Partially because the sight of the nude man made her ache with longing, but also because of the prince’s words to his captain. Their own cleverness becomes their death. Trapping Eili as a hostage against her people had probably seemed like the perfect solution to the spoiled prince, but simply because Eili wouldn’t take a blade to him didn’t mean Itamununemwia was safe.

  In three quick strides Eili had crossed the tent and closed the distance between them. She reached out, fingers skimming over the prince’s rippled stomach, then downward, her fingertips grazing skin low on his belly. The prince inhaled sharply, stiffening, but didn’t back away. No, instead he took a step forward. It would be easy to press against the prince’s body and lose herself in pleasure for the night, but Eili stilled herself. She had enjoyed the prince pushing submission onto her before. Itamununemwia obviously had as well.

  “I don’t think you’ve proven you’re a man yet.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “No.”

  With great satisfaction, Eili turned away and found where her bag of clothing had been set. She moved close to the fire with it before lying down, using the bag to support her head, her back turned to the prince. The Egyptian had already demonstrated he wasn’t the type to force lovers. His reward for that decency would be a night of frustration as Eili planned her next attack. The prince might be the one making Eili submit in the end, but only because Eili had driven him to it.

  Coming Soon: Watch for Siege: Chosen By Egypt Book Two

  Visit Lilith T. Bell’s Author Page on Amazon for more of her books.

  If you liked Captive to Egypt, you may like…

  Trapped: Captive to a Pirate Book One https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0094OPTZO/

  Excerpt:

  August 24th, 1688

  Isla Tortuga, Hispaniola

  Tortuga was rich from the bounty of pirates and privateers. Brigid O’Cullane looked toward land as they unloaded their booty. Her father would never share many details on his life as a privateer, but she had deified him far above the pirates she now found herself surrounded by. The Hispaniolan port was renowned as a haven for the worst of pirates and she was grateful that she was keeping watch on the ship for a variety of reasons.

  “Sad you’ll be missing out, Brian?”

  Having used the fake name for weeks, she was finally starting to respond to it automatically, which was good. She’d worried everyone had thought she was slow when she first joined the crew, as she so often didn’t notice when her alias was called out.

  The voice using her alias would have caught her attention regardless, though. His voice was deep, with a muddled accent that was difficult to pin down. His accent was influenced by all parts of the British Isles and a number of ports in the New World as well. Her father had sounded a bit like that, though heavier on Dublin. Her father had said it was a good sailor’s voice, as it showed a man called the entire world his home.

  It was difficult for Brigid to admit there was anything good about Liam Lynch at all.

  She turned toward the man who’d been speaking to her, passing off the crate she had in her hands. Of all aspects of his life at sea, her father had spoken the most about Liam. He’d taken the lad as something of an apprentice back when Liam was orphaned at twelve and the two had sailed together frequently since.

  “A bit, I suppose,” she lied. “I’m happy to watch the ship with Ol’ Paul, though. I like the chance to prove myself.”

  One detail about Liam that Brigid’s father had failed to ever describe was his face, which the young woman found disconcertingly beautiful. His face was unlined beyond a few faint worry lines crossing his forehead, illustrating his youth and health. His lips were full and well shaped, with the upper lip slightly fuller than the bottom. His nose was straight, lacking any hook to its bridge or the tell-tale asymmetry of having been broken in the past. The only real flaw in his face were two thin scars that ran down his left cheek, looking something like old claw marks. His cheekbones were high and sharp, drawing her attention to pale blue eyes that contrasted dramatically with the dark lashes that fringed them.

  The piercing gaze of those eyes seemed to look right down to the core of her and she quickly looked away again, feeling her cheeks warm up. Under the bindings she used to keep her breasts flat, she could feel her nipples hardening as shivers rushed through her body. Desire didn’t seem to care that she hated the man.

  “Eh, you’ve proven yourself well enough already, lad. We’d best watch out or you’ll be stealing my job next.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Liam smirk and give her a wink.

  “Oh, that’s not what I’ll be stealing,” Brigid said, passing on the next crate down the line.

  Liam laughed and once he’d handed off the crate, he gave her a friendly slap on the back. With the wet dock beneath her feet and the unexpected touch, it was enough to make her stumble. One of her boots slipped on the slick wood, throwing her body forward, head first off the dock and toward the sea below.

  Powerful arms wrapped around her instantly. One of Liam’s hands was braced at her chest, the other catching her at the upper thigh. His touch made her heart pound far harder than the prospect of going headfirst into the churning waves. At her thigh his fingers slid upward as he pulle
d her back toward him, brushing against the juncture of her thighs. Just that incidental touch was like being struck by lightning, making muscles clench and flutter. She was jerked back against his chest and held there for a moment to get steady on her feet. She could feel the fingers at her chest slide against the bindings there, clearly having noticed them. She pulled away from him frantically, scrambling backward from the edge of the dock.

  Their eyes met. One of his brows was raised and he was giving her a shrewd look. He’d felt the bindings and had certainly been close enough to guess at a lack of manhood between her legs. Was he paying enough attention to have realized and seen through her disguise?

  “That’s the last of the cargo. I’d best get back there before Ol’ Paul drinks himself into a stupor,” she said in a rush.

  Liam said nothing. Brigid hurried up the gangplank, trying to ignore both the rush of abject fear and confused arousal. Putting off her plan any longer would be too much of a risk. She had to find out what had happened to the map and flee the ship before the night was out.

  Get Trapped: Captive to a Pirate Book One for free https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0094OPTZO/

  Books by Lilith T. Bell

  Captive to a Pirate https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B1399KM/

  Slave to a Pirate https://www.amazon.com/dp/B008ZIE3IE/

  About the Author

  From her earliest memories, Lilith was fascinated by storytelling. The ability to take words and create entire universes seemed like magic. From Little House on the Prairie to The X-Files novelizations, she read voraciously. In her early teens she began reading romance novels—starting with one of her favorite authors, Johanna Lindsey—and there was no going back.

  Today, Lilith lives in the rural northwoods with cats, rats, dogs, chickens, rabbits, cows and miniature horses. Best of all, she lives there with the love of her life and gets to write stories to transport others to the universes she has created.

 

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