Then, words sliced through the water, clean and clear and full of heat.
“I need you to fight, sena.”
Strength began returning to her limbs. She pushed at the water and found purchase. She began to swim upward, though it was slow and hard going.
A face hovered beyond the surface, brown and warm and familiar, and she worked to reform its rippling pieces into a whole.
She was reminded of gold and silver fish, their scales flashing in the sun, their mouths open and nibbling at her fingers. She remembered the carnelian Isis-knot amulet she’d worn since she was a girl.
With this amulet, the blood of Isis, the spells of Isis, and the magic words of Isis shall protect you from those who would do you harm.
Isis.
The name buoyed her. She recalled a bright face lit by torchlight, paired with another like it, somber and kind.
Perhaps you are capable of unimaginable things too.
With renewed vigor, she fought toward the surface, but she still could not penetrate it. She grew weak, and the weight of the water began dragging her back down.
I can’t, she thought.I’m sorry…
That’s when the shock wave hit. A blast of horror and anguish caused the silent waters to explode with noise. The wave launched her up, up—until she burst through the surface and into the light.
***
Sita gasped as her consciousness breached. Karim’s arms were wrapped around her waist, his lips pressed against hers.
War raged around them, cacophonous, dizzying.
Someone was screaming.
She pulled away from the heat of the kiss and found her hand wrapped around the hilt of a knife buried in Karim’s chest.
Then Sita was screaming too.
Karim grunted and jerked the dagger free.
“What are you doing? Don’t pull it out!” A horrified Neff stood with a tall, muscular woman who was shouting at Karim. Sita recognized her as one of the new servants she’d met upon her return to the palace.
“It’s all right,” Karim said through gritted teeth. Sure enough, his skin began knitting itself back together before their eyes.
“What in the name of Ra…” the tall servant said. “I don’t understand. You should be dead!”
Karim gave her a wry grin. “Raetawy, you have no idea how right you are.”
Sita threw herself into Karim’s arms, hugging him tightly and tangling her fingers in his dark, sandy hair. “You came back to me,” she murmured in his ear.
When she pulled away to take in the wonder of him, Karim reached up to remove the scarab necklace from around his neck and place it over her head. “I told you I would.”
Sita smiled, then furrowed her brow at the servant girl. “Raetawy? I thought your name was Ahura.”
The servant scrutinized her. Only then did Sita notice that the woman wore golden scale armor and carried a sekhem scepter, its stone head spattered with blood. Both seemed to fit her far better than a white kalasiris and a food tray.
“You’re no servant girl,” Sita said.
“Correct, Princess,” Raetawy confirmed. “I’m not.”
Sita gazed at the three of them standing in a circle on the platform. The wind picked up, its intoxicating fragrance so potent that the air was alive with it.
