Her companion, Herit, chimed in. “Yes, so very good,” she said smoothly. “What can we do to help, Nebet?”
“Put together a tray for Sitamun and bring it to her chambers right away,” Nebet replied. “Bread, fruit, some jute mallow leaf soup, a bit of roast duck if you’ve got some…”
“Wine?” Herit inquired.
Nebet replied without hesitation. “No wine. A jug of fresh water will do.”
Sita pursed her lips.I suppose I deserve that.
Nebet turned to her. “Is there anything else you need, Sitamun?”
“Can one of you go to the temple and find Prince Bakenamun?” Sita said. “I didn’t see him at the ceremony for Renenutet, and I need to speak to him at once.”
Ahura perked up at this request. “He’s already in the palace. We just picked up his empty trays.”
“What? Where?”
Ahura pointed to one of the bedchambers that Sita remembered having been unoccupied when she left.
The guards were watching her every move, and she was parched, half-starved, and covered in sand, but Sita couldn’t wait another second to see the brother she’d neglected for so long. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but that day, she vowed to make things right between them.
“Nebet, please keep the guards occupied for a little while,” Sita said, and before anyone could object, she walked to the chamber and pushed through the thick curtain.
Kenna sat beside a slight, bald-headed girl who was tucked into bed. The bedchamber was messy, with an odd assortment of objects strewn across every surface—piles of scrolls, tiny alabaster jars, bundles of dried leaves, feathers, and animal bones tied in twine. Either the girl didn’t care to keep her room tidy, or someone had turned the place upside down.
Kenna and the girl spoke quietly, their heads bent close together. The girl had bruises on her arms and a fresh bandage around her neck, and her brother’s face was creased with worry. They both looked up in alarm at Sita’s arrival.
“Sitamun?” Kenna exclaimed, jumping up so abruptly that he knocked over the stool he’d be sitting on.
The girl gasped and sat up in bed. There were wadjet eyes tattooed on each of her shoulders, marks usually reserved for a high priestess. But this girl couldn’t have been older than thirteen.
Sita frowned. The girl was familiar.Veryfamiliar.
“You’ve returned!” Kenna wove around the clutter to reach her, stopping short of an embrace. “I was worried.” He paused, gathering himself. Sita had never seen him so flustered. “I…I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
“Kenna—” Sita began.
Kenna raised a hand. “Wait. Before you continue, there’s something I need to say to you. When you came to the temple that day, you were trying to tell me about…about what was going on with Father. And with you and Mery. I understand that now. I was a fool not to see it, not to have put the clues together.”
“Kenna, please—”
“I belittled you. I turned you away. And when you disappeared, when no one could find you…I thought that Mery had…” His face crumpled.
“Kenna.”
Sita knew Kenna didn’t really like being touched, so instead of pulling him into her arms the way she wanted to, Sita tried to put all her affection into the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “If I had taken the time to understand you better, to visit your domain instead of always expecting you to come to mine, then you wouldn’t have had so many reasons to doubt my word. You deserve better. Especially from me.”
Gratitude smoothed the worry lines on Kenna’s face.
“You know the truth about Father, then?” Sita asked.
Kenna nodded. “I deduced the likelihood of death by poisonduring the mummification process.” He tilted his head toward the girl on the bed. “Nefermaat supplied the rest.”
Sita froze. “Nefermaat,” she whispered.
The lamb.
“You’re the girl I saw at the Festival of Bast,” Sita said in awe. “You’re the girl who had a vision of the Oracle of the Lamb. You’re here!”
