Banishing the bothersome thoughts about Neferure, I mock slap his shoulder. “Such flattery! We aren’t at court, you know. It isn’t necessary.”
I feel his eyes upon me, and I face him. How I adore the way those crinkles at the corners of his eyes have turned into creases and lines, the constant reminder of the laughter and joy he brings into my life. Even though he is advancing in years—Senenemut is well into his forties now—he is still beautiful to me.
“I mean every word,” he says, and I know it’s true. I feel his love and devotion every minute of my existence, and sometimes, it seems the only true part of my life, the only part where I can be fully myself.
I study the lovely and peaceful structure. Its every aspect is constructed with perfect balance, the very essence ofmaat. Although we are too far away to see the carved details on the walls, I know that every surface is covered with the story of my life—from my divine creation when my mother was visited by the god Amun in the guise of Thutmose I to the glory of my expedition to Punt to scenes of my interactions with the gods, surrounded by my immediate family including Thutmose III and Senenmut.
“Now tell me where we are really going to be buried.”
“There.” He points to two adjacent spots in the hill above the valley. “That is where you and I will rest near each other forever.”
We smile at each other, delighted that we’ve been able to keep our secret. I will not be interred in the cliff tomb constructed for me when I was a princess, or the tomb of my father that had been reconstructed for me as a queen, or near this mortuary temple made for me as a pharaoh. Formal tombs are often subject to looting, because of the many goods with which we are buried, and we do not want our afterlife together to be disrupted. Hence, these private burial places.
It delights us both to know this life is not the end for us. Together, we will rejoin in the hereafter, and the trappings of our tombs will ease the journey. Our sarcophagi are nearly identical, save the engravings; both are pink Aswan granite and the same shape and size. The hidden cliffside tombs Senenmut has designed for us are very close and angled toward one another, so that we may always be in each other’s view. And he has devised the most exquisite night sky—complete with an accurate rendering of the stars—for the ceiling of both our tombs, so that we may forever stare at the heavens together.
I turn away from the cliffs to kiss my love. His lips are soft, and his arms strong as they encircle me. I am about to lose myself in my passion for this wondrous man, when I hear the sound of a throat clearing.
Breaking away, I stare at the soldier making that noise, not masking my fury. My moments alone with Senenmut outside my palace chambers are so rare that I resent the interruption.
“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. But one of Pharaoh Thutmose the Third’s couriers has journeyed up the hills to deliver a message.”
I pull away from Senenmut. In all the years of our shared rule, I do not recall Thutmose ever going to such lengths to reach me. “What did he say?”
“Pharaoh Thutmose the Third awaits you in the palace at Thebes, and requests that you join him at once. The matter is urgent.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
1458BC
THEBES,EGYPT
What could possibly be so crucial? Our world rests on a series of carefully planned rituals, meetings, festivals, and rites. Disruption and urgency do not tend to play a part, as such behavior is not gods-like. Never before has Thutmose thought it necessary to break from that orchestrated order and summon me.
Senenmut and I race down the cliffside back toward the Nile. Once we cross the river and alight from the royal barge, we rush into the private chamber off the throne room. There Thutmose awaits.
He is not exactly waiting, but pacing. I have never seen my strong, self-possessed co-ruler so flustered and anxious. Even while heading off on a military campaign, navigating the tricky elite families in Memphis, ensuring the safety of our borders, or leading his own sacred ceremonies in Iunu, he is calm and measured in his bearing. Kingly, even.
“What on earth is happening?” I ask, breathless from dashing through the warren of palace corridors.
Thutmose turns toward me, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks wet with tears. Even though his arms are heavily muscled from hours of charioteering, archery, hunting, and rowing, he looks so youthful without his kingly wig and crown. I am reminded that he is a young man, one with other wives who also gallivants at the harem palace.
Sprinting to him, I grab his shoulders and shake them a bit. “What is wrong? Tell me.”
“It’s Neferure,” he answers in a whisper.
I cannot speak. I cannot ask the necessary next question because I am terrified what Thutmose might tell me. My body begins to shake in fear.
I feel Senenmut at my side, his hand on mine. He takes the reins, asking, “Is Neferure all right?”
“She has been t-taken,” he stammers, barely able to say the word.
This, I hadn’t expected. Death by any number of illnesses, yes. That is the fate of many of our people, and royal blood offers no protection. But a kidnapping?
“What do you mean—taken?” Senenmut asks. To a stranger’s ear, his voice sounds even, but I can hear the panic rising. Neferure is precious to him.
“She is being held by representatives of my grandmother Mutnofret’s people.” Thutmose is barely audible.
“As a prisoner?” I find my voice.
