Still, his partners had not planned to arrive until the ninth day, which meant that there were a few more hours that he could spend listening to her voice and breathing in her scent and fixing her image in his mind—just a little more time to figure out exactly how he was going to break her heart.
He crossed to her sleeping area and retrieved her bed mat, then returned to the middle of the chamber where he lay both mats down next to the false shrine. Without a word, she sat down upon her mat and rested her back against the wall of the shrine.
He shot her a look and she returned a guilty grin. ‘Why not rest against it? There is no one inside it after all...as far as I know, at least.’ She winked at him.
He poured her a cup of beer and watched her carefully. ‘You have changed, I think.’
She chuckled softly. ‘Perhaps I have been inspired.’
‘By digging through the tunnel?’
‘By managing to keep you alive.’
‘How did you do it, Aya?’
‘Pharaoh helped me,’ said Aya. ‘She gave me her breath and I gave it to you.’
‘You were brilliant.’
‘On the contrary, I was mad. So were you. The malevolent spirits confused our thoughts. You kept raving about how I was the heir to the Horus throne. Imagine that!’
Her laughter hit him like a stone. But of course she did not believe him. Would he have believed her if she had told him that he was the divine descendant of a living god? He would not belabour the point. Besides, what truly mattered was that they had survived. He raised his cup. ‘In that case, to madness!’
‘To madness!’ she echoed and the two lifted their cups and drank.
* * *
The bittersweet liquid slaked her thirst, but when she looked up from her cup, she nearly spat. Her sheath! She had been talking to Intef all this time without noticing her own nudity. Worse, he seemed to notice her bare breasts the moment she did, causing a heavy blush to flood into her cheeks.
‘I feel as if I have just waded into a pool of lotus flowers,’ he said, then laughed. She watched him swallow more beer—though he did a rather terrible job of it—and politely look away.
She reached for her sheath and pulled it over her, feeling an inexplicable embarrassment. There was nothing to be ashamed of, after all. Egyptian women bared their breasts often, for they were one of the loveliest features of a woman’s form.
Still, Aya rarely displayed her breasts in such a way. The advisor to a pharaoh did not have time to indulge in such flights of vanity.
Now it seemed that her vanity had run away with her thoughts. To what had he compared her breasts? A pool of lotus flowers? What a ridiculous comparison! Surely he had been mocking her. Still, the idea sent a strange warmth through her.
‘Intef, are you all right? You seem to be choking.’
‘It is nothing,’ he said. ‘Just...the beer. It is so...lovely.’
She had never heard beer described as lovely. Then again, she had never enjoyed a cup of beer with a man she had recently brought back from the dead.
‘It is nice to rest here in the daylight,’ she commented, tearing off a chunk of bread and chewing it thoughtfully. The light itself felt like a kind of food. It poured down from the tunnel in a luminous stripe, making her heart feel light.
A memory rushed in. ‘Oh, Intef, I nearly forgot to tell you the news!’
‘What news?’ he asked her.
‘I defeated my demons! In my vision last night I stopped them one by one.’
‘Really? How did you do it?’
She sat up on her knees beside him and pretended to raise a bow. He nearly gasped. The breasts that he had been so skilfully avoiding up until now reared up into his direct line of sight.
She pulled back her string and readied her invisible arrow.
Her pose was magnificent. She looked like some divine huntress kneeling there, her head high, her stomach taut, the swooping curve of her back like a bow itself.
‘Is that Bay you are aiming for?’ he asked, hoping she would take a long time spotting her imaginary target.
‘It is Bay on a chariot riding faster than time,’ she said.
She sighted a target somewhere across the chamber and trained her invisible arrow on it.
‘Remember to breathe,’ he told her, though he might have been speaking to himself. She took a deep breath and he watched her breasts rise and fall before him. ‘Now let go,’ he muttered.
She let her imaginary arrow fly. He exhaled.
‘Can you guess where it went?’ she asked Intef. He already knew: it had landed inside his very heart. ‘Well?’ she asked.
‘Did it slice right through Bay’s wicked beard?’
She was shaking her head delightedly. ‘I severed the reins of his horse. I sent his chariot to the ground.’
‘Well done!’ Intef praised. He was paralysed by her loveliness. He could have watched her for days. Months. Years.
‘Oh, but I am not done.’
And the gods are great and terrible, he thought.
She loaded another imaginary arrow.
‘And where is that one going?’ he asked.
She cut him the sternest of looks. ‘An archer never says.’ She retrained her eyes on her invisible prize and breathed in.
She was heartbreakingly beautiful. It was not just the red in her cheeks or the gap in her teeth or the way her black hair hung down her neck like a feathery headdress.
It was the new certainty in her gaze—the unmistakable boldness that seemed to have emerged with her success with the bow...and now the chisel. He could feel the power radiating off her like heat. It made him feel weak, at her command.
She released her next invisible arrow, then another. ‘And those arrows—where do you think they went?’ she asked.
‘Through the heart of Bay himself?’
‘Nay, for in my vision Bay was no longer Bay—he became the High Priest. I sent my arrows into each side of his robe.’ She flashed the haughty grin of a conqueror and his stomach took a lusty plunge. ‘I pinned him to the ground.’
‘Congratulations!’ he said. ‘You overcame your captors!’
As for Intef, he could not seem to overcome his desire to seal her grin with his own lips.
‘But then the High Priest became the Serpent himself and I had only one arrow left.’ She filled her chest with air and pulled her imaginary bow taut. Then she did something utterly ruthless. She puckered her lips and kissed the air, as if blowing the Serpent of Chaos a goodbye kiss. ‘I sent that arrow right through the serpent’s head.’
He gazed up at her, unable to speak as she released her final arrow. Who was this fiery goddess standing before him? What had happened to the woman who had failed her Pharaoh, who regretted everything she said and did, who feared she could not chisel well enough to do her duty?
‘It is all thanks to the Goodly Thief,’ she said. She held up her invisible bow.
‘You named your bow the Goodly Thief?’
‘Do you not like the name?’
He laughed. ‘I am honoured.’ He could not stand to look at her any more, lest he combust with longing. ‘Come, sit next to me,’ he said. ‘Let us rest a while.’
She glanced across the chamber. ‘I think I shall go bathe myself first. Saving your life was rather dirty business.’
He tried to conceal his chagrin. ‘Of course.’
* * *
When she returned, she seemed to gleam in the low light. She handed him several wet cloths. ‘You are welcome,’ she said, her eyes scrutinising his filthy limbs.
He laughed and stood, wiping down his limbs and watching the cloths become dark with dirt.
‘There is so much to do now, is there not?’ she mused. ‘I have been thinking about how we might find the heir.’
‘Ah,’ he said, steppin
g to the other side of the shrine to discreetly cleanse the rest of him.
‘I know you will be returning to your family first,’ she said. ‘I have decided to take refuge in Pharaoh’s mortuary temple until you are able to join me. I will be safe there and I can begin our plans to find the heir.’
Intef said nothing in response. He returned to his mat and forced a grin.
‘Is there something the matter?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’ Our plans, she had said. Curses.
‘I suppose we must decide when to make our escape,’ she said. ‘Tonight?’
‘Too soon,’ he blurted. He lay back. ‘We should remain here tonight and tomorrow and recover our strength. I am still very tired, I fear.’
That was a lie. He was not tired at all. He had never been more awake.
Chapter Twenty
‘I am also tired,’ she said, lying down by his side. ‘So much chiselling...’ She gathered his bed sheet around her and in moments she was asleep.
He understood at once that this was how it would always be. He wanted her, but he could never have her.
At best, his desire for her was an inconvenience. At worst, it was a trick of the gods. Or perhaps it was a trick of the tomb itself, which seemed to teem with demons and illusions.
He could never have her. Whatever they had forged together was made of glass. Even if he could spare her the pain of witnessing the tomb pillaged, he would still be the man responsible for doing it. It was an unforgivable offence. No matter what happened, the glass was going to break.
Besides, she was already elsewhere. She was thinking about their escape, beyond that where she would go and how she would find and protect the heir and beyond that how she would undo the damage to Tausret’s tomb. None of it involved him.
She was a kind of rainbow—so close to him, but totally beyond reach.
And that was well, for rainbows were dangerous illusions. He did not want to indulge in their beauty. He did not want any part of them. They kept people smiling and bathed in colour, even when the world was falling apart.
Intef remembered the last time he had seen Nebetta.
He had been standing on the western bank of the river at his favourite fishing hole, watching a fish writhe and twist on the line.
‘I knew I would find you here!’ Nebetta had said. ‘Will you not join me at the Min feast?’
‘Is it the Min Festival already?’ Intef had asked, though he had been listening to the sound of beating drums across the water all afternoon.
‘The ferry is leaving soon,’ she’d said. She’d held out her hand to him. ‘Join me, Intef. Let us return to the land of the living and dance and be merry. Do you not hear the lovely sistrums and the trumpets calling?’
‘They sound like dying donkeys.’
She’d laughed heartily, as if he had meant the comment as a jest. The silken black strands of her hair had swept across her lovely face and she’d threaded them out of the way with unconscious grace.
I do not deserve her, he’d thought.
She’d sniffed the air. ‘They have sacrificed four bulls. Can you not smell them roasting?’
‘I smell nothing.’
‘Come, Intef,’ she’d begged. ‘Do you not wish to dance with me?’
His fish had given a wild flop, then seemed to freeze.
‘Go, Nebetta. Enjoy yourself. You will have your pick of men to dance with. As you can see, I am busy.’
She’d stepped backwards, as if he had just given her a shove.
‘Come, Intef,’ she’d said, but with less enthusiasm. ‘Do you not like my new dress?’
He had studied her closely. She’d worn a clean white sheath that had been perfectly fitted to her slim figure. A thick pectoral made of colourful glass beads had lain heavy on her chest and a matching belt had brought colour to her lovely waist. Around her shoulders she’d worn a fine, gauzy shawl that must have cost a dozen barrels of wheat in trade.
‘You look as if you have raided the closet of the old Priestess of Isis,’ he’d said.
She had cringed. He’d hated hurting her, but it had been the only way to make her understand. He was not going to dance with her. Not ever.
‘Do you not like how I have painted my face?’ she’d asked.
He’d gazed at her mystical eyes, which had been kohled and then powdered with glorious green.
‘I see you have been deep in the malachite pot.’
Her breaths had been short. ‘I thought you liked the colour green against my skin.’
‘You know that I have joined the rebel army, Nebetta. I am a soldier now. I cannot go off dancing with you. I must do my duty.’
‘Every man in Thebes is in the rebel army. They are all at the feast.’
‘Not every man.’ His stomach had turned, as it always did when he thought of his father’s death.
She’d stared out across the river. ‘You must let him go, Intef.’
‘I cannot,’ he had whispered.
‘You will not,’ Nebetta had replied.
A breeze had come up and tousled her hair, but she had not attempted to correct it. She’d only stared off across the river while a single tear made a green malachite path down her colourless cheek.
He’d cut the fishing line with his knife. His fish had lain motionless on the ground, but he had not attempted to retrieve it.
‘I am sorry, Nebetta.’
Nebetta’s ferry boat had sounded its bell, but it had been Intef who had silently walked away...
He had been walking ever since.
Intef gazed down at Aya’s slumbering form. She had rolled on to her stomach and her arms had stretched out on to the floor. It was as if she were embracing the tiles, protecting her Pharaoh. Even in her sleep, it seemed, she would not cease to do her duty.
What a good woman she was. How loyal and true was her heart. He knew that heart could not belong to him, or anyone else. It belonged to Pharaoh Tausret alone.
And thank the gods for that, for he had never wanted her heart. Love was only pain and he did not wish to suffer any more. He had done his duty as best he could, had kept her at a distance. And that was well, for soon he would give her to Setnakht.
He had no choice.
He braced himself against the shrine as a wave of nausea hit him. Setnakht would marry her to his son Rameses and she would become a royal brood mare, just as Tausret had been. Her life would no longer be her own. It would be no life at all.
But was that not the fate of all living souls? What did life mean if one could not serve some useful purpose? She had sacrificed her life up until now in the service of Tausret and was obviously proud of that fact. Who was he to decide what she would or would not wish? What mattered were the thousands of lives that would be saved by her marriage—both living Egyptians and Egyptians yet to be.
No life was worth more than any other. Not even the life of the woman he...
He quickly slid down on the bed mat beside her and turned on his side, facing away from her. He seemed to be seeing things more clearly now, with so much daylight pouring in. There was no future for them, nor could there ever be. If Intef did not do his duty and give Aya to Setnakht, men would die. There was no more to think about.
He closed his eyes and, finally, went to sleep.
* * *
She awoke to the sound of his gentle snores. He was lying on his side, facing her. She could tell because she could feel the wind of his breath in her hair. It occurred to her that it was the first time she had ever slept beside a man. It was not an unpleasant sensation, though it was rather difficult avoiding the desire to nuzzle up against his chest.
She wondered what other pleasures lay unexplored between them. She feared there were many and also that she would never know them. She sensed their association was quickly coming to an end.
She had always sensed that he was hiding something from her and now felt certain she knew what it was: he was not going to help her find the heir. It was the only explanation for his misguided obsession that she was the heir. It was a lie he told himself in order to retain his own honour, for he planned to save his family and then return to the army where he belonged.
Strangely, she did not blame him. He was a good man, an honourable man, and it made sense that he would wish to return to his duty. It also meant that after this night she would never see him again.
The thought made her feel unexpectedly bleak. In her life at court, she had known many men. To a very few, she had even been attractive. She could count on one hand the number of times she had been propositioned by such men, though she had always refused them. She had never trusted their intentions, nor did she feel anything for them at all. In her mind, they were just alternative versions of Bay.
Now all she could imagine was Intef’s touch, his kiss, his arms around her, and how much she wished to feel those things one last time before their time together was through.
* * *
When he opened his eyes again, all was dark. The cool night air was pouring in from the tunnel and he gulped it into his lungs. He felt full of energy and lay restless upon his bed mat, wondering what he could do to occupy himself.
The storerooms certainly needed tidying, as did the hall. They would need to bring the latrine to the surface—a task that he would insist on doing himself—and return all the furniture to the storage rooms. There really was much to be done.
He was pulling himself off the bed mat when he heard her sigh.
‘Intef, are you awake?’ He could not see her, but it sounded as if she was lying on her back.
‘I am awake, but I did not believe you to be.’
‘I have been awake for some time,’ she said.
‘It seems that we have become creatures of the night.’
‘My thoughts will not cease.’
Saved by Her Enemy Warrior Page 15