“That is the message, my prince,” Neff murmured. Her stomach growled. She’d long since missed her midday meal.
Noticing her distress, the prince seemed to relent. “I suppose they’ll be expecting you back at the temple. Go, then. But now that you’ve told me this prophecy about my father, it is imperative that you keep it to yourself. One never knows who to trust, so you must guard your secrets with care. You were right to keep it from him—which is why I’m not having you whipped for lying to the pharaoh. I will handle it from here. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my prince.”
The prince grinned, his face lighting up with pleasure. It was terrifying how handsome he was when he smiled.
“Good girl,” he cooed, and lifted a ringed finger to his lips as a reminder.
Neff bowed and turned, walking slowly out of the hall, through the courtyard, and past the palace gates. When she was out of the complex, she began to run, her sandaled feet slapping the ground until she reached the temple gardens. She was going so fast that she nearly crashed directly into Prince Kenna.
“Hey, hey, hey!” he exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders. A basket hung off one arm, with what looked like the remains of a simple meal inside. “Where have you been? I waited, but you never showed.”
“I was… at the… palace,” Neff said between panting breaths.
Kenna’s face drained of color. “Why?”
Neff opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how much to say.
“The king,” she began. “He wanted me… he wanted—” She looked at the prince’s sharp, angular face, and his wild nest ofblack hair. He wasn’t handsome like his brother. But he was a most beautiful and welcome sight.
She couldn’t help herself. She fell into Kenna’s arms and sobbed like a lost, terrified child.
The prince’s body went rigid at her embrace, but slowly Neff felt him relax. Then, she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders. He patted her gently. For what seemed like a long time, he just let her cry. Neff finally understood why he’d cloistered himself at the temple, far from the machinations of the palace.
They were both part of something so big and so terrible that she could only see it in pieces, like watching a sandstorm approach through a keyhole. Whatever was coming was just as unstoppable. Just as catastrophic. She wanted to tell Kenna everything that had happened, but she’d promised Prince Meryamun that she wouldn’t speak of it. She had to obey. Didn’t she? If she told Kenna and his brother found out, surely she’d be severely punished, and it might even put Kenna himself in danger.
No. She had to stay silent.
When her sobs finally faded to sniffles, Kenna spoke.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”
Neff held on to him tighter, as if doing so might keep them both from blowing away in the coming storm.
“No,” she whispered into his chest. “I’m not.”
14
Sita
The dead geese lay in a pile on the prow of the hunting ship, their pink legs curled under them, golden eyes staring. Sita lounged under a canopy nearby, nursing a cup of wine. She gazed at the birds, their downy feathers blowing in the breeze coming off the river, amazed that moments ago they’d been soaring through the air, blood churning through their veins.
Alive and free, she thought,until—
“Got you!”
Mery stood on a papyrus skiff next to the larger boat, a polished wooden stick gripped in one hand. He was naked aside from a short pleated schenti. Bending down, he pulled a dead goose from the marshy waters and held it up, raising a cheer from the revelers on the ship.
Fowling with sticks was one of Mery’s favorite pastimes, and Sita wasn’t sure what he loved more—the art of the hunt or the glory of the kill. Sita enjoyed sailing, and the heft of a spear in her hand, but never really developed a taste for the hunt itself. Still, she almost always accompanied her brother on his expeditions. After all, it was a rare chance for her to get away from the palace for a long afternoon.
Mery locked eyes with her, his grin dimming when he saw she wasn’t cheering like the others. Dropping his weapon onto the skiff, he took up the long oar and poled himself alongside the prow of the ship. From there, he nimbly hopped onboard and crouched next to her, his chest heaving with exertion. His body glistened under the bright sun, as lean and sleek as a panther.
“A gift,” he said, dropping the sodden corpse onto Sita’s lap.
Sita jerked upright, spilling her cup of wine. Her thin dress was soaked through. “Mery!” Repulsed, she picked up the dead goose and laid it on top of the pile with the other birds.
Her brother laughed, and some of the other revelers joined him, because the prince should never laugh alone.
