Once the baskets were emptied, the assembled gathered before the trench, leaving ample room for what was about to unfold.
The priestesses ceased their drumbeat, filling the courtyard with a pregnant silence before starting again, louder and fasterthan before. As if racing to match them, Rae’s pulse quickened as the door to the citadel was thrown open. The king emerged into the light.
Meryamun gazed out at the assembly, his eyes piercing beneath the double crown, which dazzled with gold and diamond and electrum. He wore a knee-length black schenti and, over his bare chest, a wide falcon-shaped collar studded with emerald and obsidian. A long green cape was fastened over his shoulders, which rippled behind him as he descended the steps toward the platform.
The drums beat louder and faster still.
When Meryamun reached the platform, the three masked priests raised their hands, and the priestesses carrying the red vases—whose movements, like the music, had been growing more and more frenetic—all stopped at the edge of the trench.
The priests dropped their hands, and the music ended.
In perfect unison, the priestesses hurled the vases into the pit, and Rae flinched as they shattered on the ground below. The priestesses withdrew in silence.
Rae scanned the figures on the platform. The princess looked positively reptilian in deep green embroidered with gold; Neff was in sacred white and wore the same short wig she’d had on when Rae had first seen her. The queen was also garbed in green, her gown accompanied by an amethyst-studded vulture collar around her neck.
Where is Prince Bakenamun?Rae wondered. He was not on the platform, and though she stretched to look, she could not spot him among the congregation of priests.
Meryamun stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest, the royal crook in one hand and the flail in the other. “My people,” he said, his voice carrying across the vast space. “When my father lay dying—may he live forever in the West—I promised him Iwould restore Khetara to its former glory, the glory envisioned and realized by King Sematawy, who gave his life to unite the Two Lands under one crown.
“But great deeds come at a high cost, and not everyone has the fortitude to pay such a price. Some may even go so far as to attempt to undermine this sacred work, to allow their weak hearts and simple minds to guide them to annihilation.” He paused, his eyes hawkish. “That ends here.”
Rae’s hands balled into fists.
“Modern pharaohs have been satisfied with a tempered version of execration. They have burned their enemies in effigy; they have broken the red pots. Well, we have burned, and we have broken. We have made our offerings to the gods of war. But today, I say to you: That is not enough!” His shout rang across the courtyard. “It hasneverbeen enough. When our resolve weakened, the fissures in our once-formidable kingdom appeared. Today, we strike a blow against our enemies, both within and beyond our borders. We lay a curse upon the heads of all who oppose Khetara and its king, wherever they may roam. Today, we armor ourselves in blood.”
A side door opened in the citadel, and a parade of ragged prisoners emerged, their heads hooded and their wrists bound behind their backs. Guards prodded them toward the pit, hoisting them back to their feet when they stumbled and fell.
Red-hot fury poured through Rae’s veins, and as she watched the men and women stand in front of the trench, it was all she could do not to issue a war cry and launch herself toward them.
Not yet, she told herself.Wait for the signal.
The prisoners were silent as they faced the assembly, though Rae thought she could hear one of them sobbing. She scanned the line, trying to discern which one was her father, but without being able to see their faces and with their arms bound behind them,she couldn’t be sure. Their time in the dark had hollowed them, made them all pale and shrunken and knobby-kneed.
Rae flicked her gaze to the sky and measured the angle of the sun.
She prayed.
“Traitors stand before you,” Meryamun declared. “These Sakeshi men and women stoked the fires of rebellion in Low Khetara. Not only will their deaths channel the old magic that my father and his predecessors were too feeble to employ, but it will send a message to all who mean to betray the sanctity of the crown. The might of the gods themselves will come thundering upon their heads should they raise a weapon or a word against me.”
Rae’s muscles twitched. The guards stationed along the ramparts were all turned inward, watching the ritual. It was almost time.
“I do not speak lightly of betrayal,” Meryamun continued, descending the steps from the platform and making his way toward the prisoners. The ram-masked priest followed him, taking the crook and flail from the king and passing him a ceremonial mace. “I know betrayal both broadly and acutely. It is one thing to be betrayed by a hundred faceless peasants, but quite another to find treachery at the heart of your own house.”
Rae and Neff’s eyes met. Something wasn’t right.
Meryamun stopped beside the first prisoner, a slight, stooped figure in a dirty white tunic. “It brings me back to what I said about the necessity of fortitude. Great sacrifices must be made to steer this kingdom back to glory, and I will spill that blood. Even if it is my own.” With that, he removed the prisoner’s hood with a flourish.
The crowd gasped, and Rae’s stomach twisted.
Standing before them, his angular face bruised and battered, was Prince Bakenamun.
29Neff
An instant.
That’s how long it took for Neff’s carefully laid plans to disintegrate. The instant she saw Kenna’s face, she knew it had all gone completely, terribly wrong.
Meryamun silenced the bewildered chatter of the crowd.
