I held my breasts. “Do you want to suckle on your queen’s breasts?”
“More than anything in the world.”
“Will you lick them until I moan with pleasure?”
Kepha kept crawling. “Until you beg me to stop.”
“And if I do not?”
“I will rub your clit until it is swollen and wet. Thrust my fingers deep inside you, slicken both your holes until they throb with desire for my cock.”
I drew a ragged breath and spread myself wide. “And then?”
“I will fuck you hard and long until your nails rake my back and you sing your orgasm to the heavens.”
“Is that all?” My clit was throbbing, glistening, and eager.
“No, your Excellency.” He continued crawling forward. “I will sink my face into your joy and suck on your clit and rim your anus with your dew until you groan and writhe like a woman possessed.” Kepha stopped a few feet from the throne, lifted his head and licked his lips. “I am yours to command.”
“Then begin.”
Kepha rose and removed his clothes. He held his stiff cock. “Does this meet her Excellency’s standards?”
“Mmmm…” I tilted my head and tapped my finger on my chin. “I’m not interested in anything that is considered standard.”
Kepha pretended surprise. “Then I’ll be extraordinary.” He rounded the throne and nuzzled my cheek, then slid his hands over my shoulders to cup each breast. His fingers brought my nipples to a point and he scraped his teeth over my earlobe.
I lifted my arms and took hold of his hair. “Face your queen.”
“I’d rather tongue her.” He licked my earlobe. “All my body parts are yours to command.” He stood in the front of me, bowed down, and sucked each breast by turns while his hand pressed against my fleshy mound.
Then he kneeled before me, between my thighs, which were still draped over the arms of the throne, and inhaled, his eyes dilating with pleasure. “The perfume of a goddess.” He looked up. “Accept my humble offering.”
I accepted.
Kepha serviced me as he promised. His tongue and fingers had me writhing on the throne. I scooted to the edge and Kepha, on his knees, entered my inner sanctum like a devoted subject. I lifted my legs over his shoulders and reveled in his adoration. I saw it in his eyes, felt it with each thrust, and gloried in his worship.
He fucked me hard and long. In every way that can be had on a chair—as I sat on it and bent over it, and even with my ass perched on the arm of the throne.
Yet Kepha never sat on my throne. He knew it belonged to me.
CHAPTER 28
The large entourage wasn’t my idea. I merely wanted Fihr, the building minister, and the high priest to help me search for a location for my new temple dedicated to Almaqah.
Duvsha, however, insisted such an important event required pageantry. She was right.
I sat beneath a tasseled howdah atop a brightly festooned camel. Our company included Duvsha, Kepha, five handmaidens, the building minister, a distinguished architect, the Serdar, ten priests of Almaqah, and twenty of the Serdar’s newly formed palace guard.
Ameen made the cut. So did Shani, surpassing even the most rigorous tests.
It was not my first public appearance. I had made several the first few months of my reign. Yet this one exceeded the others in every way. This holy journey outside Ma’rib’s walls demanded I flaunt my divine responsibility.
I wore a linen dress the color of lush mint fields. A circlet of peridot gems hugged my head, its tiny beaded fringe sweeping my brows. My eyes were lined with green pigment, my lids sparkling with crushed diamond. I was the glittering embodiment of verdant fields and fertile fruit trees. Shani’s artistry never ceased to amaze me.
With Nasreen curled in my lap, I smiled at the citizens crowding the streets. They strewed flowers and begged me to bless their babies and children.
I stretched out my hand and beseeched Almaqah to work his benevolence through me. Townsfolk trailed behind us, and in the short time it took to reach the main gate a throng of people had joined our excursion.
Although everyone said I was well loved, the small contingent of guards put me at ease. Everyone does not mean every one.
I had dismissed most of Hasan’s ministers and all of his advisors. The Serdar had fired any palace guard who failed his test. Fudu, the foul-breathed khat addict did not pass. I felt bad for him, as addiction is not easily conquered, but I could not trust my safety or the safety of my court to someone like him.
As I passed through the gates I spotted the young soldier I had shared a lust-filled night with atop the guard platform. He put his hand to his eyes and stared down at me. There was no recognition. The woman in green linen, jewels, an elaborate hairstyle, and ethereal makeup bore no resemblance to the girl in dirty clothes and messy hair who gained entry by fucking.
I summoned the Serdar to my side. “The lookout in the tower must be given a less important job. He is too easily bribed with fleshly pleasures.”
The Serdar nodded, his face betraying neither surprise nor skepticism. “Consider it done.”
An oasis stretched out before me in all directions, the Great Dam its guardian angel. Beyond lay flora-kissed foothills whose craggy terrain caressed an azure sky. Within the cloudless firmament an afternoon moon, Almaqah’s moon, guided our path. It was an auspicious sign.
I must have been lost in reverie when Duvsha maneuvered her camel alongside mine. “We are over four miles from the gates.”
“Priests and petitioners need privacy. Also, one must approach Almaqah slowly. Awe, anticipation, and humility must not be rushed.”
My eye alighted on a thick copse of trees rising from the desert of sand and scrub in the distance. I hastened the camel, leaving the entourage behind as I raced with the wind to where my heart’s tugging led.
Awakened by the camel’s graceless run, Nasreen uncurled herself, and dug her claws into my dress.
Once there, the camel, sensing my urgency, kneeled quickly to let me off. Nasreen leapt away and disappeared into the trees.
“There is water here,” I said when the rest of the entourage arrived.
Several guards swung their shovels into the ground and dug. The hard dirt moistened at seven feet. At twelve, water bubbled through. Almaqah’s temple would have its own water source. The architect and the minister of building claimed I had found the perfect location.
I was not convinced. Not fully. Not until the leaves rustled and a hoopoe bird darted out, its black-and-white-striped wings arcing wide into the blue. I followed its flight over the fields, gasping when it flew over a bull standing on a high plateau. There was no disputing the sign. The bull was Almaqah’s beast.
The high priest saw it as well. “Almaqah bestows his blessed approval.” He pointed so all present would witness this divine sign, then he scooped water from the spring and drank. “Clear and cool.”
“I will build the most magnificent temple ever known,” I said. “It will be a testament to our love and devotion to the most glorious god.” I turned to the architect who was already sketching the terrain. “This temple will inspire and transform every worshiper who visits.” I stretched out my arm. “There will be a long road—a mile at least—that every priest, sinner, disciple, and even I, the queen, must travel on foot to better appreciate the glory of Almaqah.”
“Yes, your Excellency.” The architect drew a long line.
“I want a large fountain in the middle. Water is life.” I turned to the architect. “Design a temple that brings the world to its knees.” I looked at the minister of building. “Hire the best stonecutters, masons, craftsmen, and artisans.”
“Wait!” shouted a voice.
A cloud of dust behind them, the Magus and the Oracle rode fast into our midst. Out of spite, I had not asked them to join our entourage. Now I regretted my immature and hasty decision. Their determination was, if not annoying, rather impressive.
The Oracle, her white braid dusted wit
h dirt, tumbled off the camel.
The Magus, middle-aged and more agile, dismounted with practiced grace. “Forgive our lateness, your Excellency. When we realized the oversight we made our way here with much haste.”
Their lie was another form of disrespect. I must not allow it. But neither did I want to incur their anger.
“I’m glad you made it,” I likewise lied, then turned my back to them and strode away from the nosy crowd. “Follow me.”
A few moments later I heard their labored breathing as they struggled to catch up.
“Your Excellency,” said the Magus, his voice low. “King Hasan always took us on excursions like this.”
I turned to face them. “Then it is good I did not invite you.”
“What? Why?” The Oracle whacked her walking stick against a saltbush.
I lifted my brows at her insolence.
“I mean…” The Oracle’s eyes darted to the Magus. “We are members of the court, your court, are we not? Choosing the site of new temple requires our expertise.”
“I—” I bit off my sharp rebuke, smiled benevolently, and softened my tone. “Prophecies and incantations may whisper a suitable location, but a water source, suitable terrain, and an inspiring vista shout its excellence.”
The Oracle and the Magus shared an inscrutable glance.
Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, the Magus surveyed the vista in every direction. “This site has no equal.”
The Oracle dropped her walking stick, got down on the ground, her forehead in the dirt, and stretched out her skinny limbs.
Birds chirped. The breeze rustled through the bushes. Heat soaked into my skin.
Finally the Oracle spoke. “The temple will stand for a thousand years.”
A thousand years. To the common people it was a long time, yet I had hoped for more.
Suddenly, the Oracle began to shiver, her teeth chattering as though cold. I looked at the Magus to see if this was some kind of ruse, but his mouth was agape.
Deep guttural sounds emerged from the Oracle, nonsensical words with a crooning rhythm that sent a chill up my spine. Her limp body flapped around like a fish. She flopped on her back and stared with milky, unseeing eyes into the sky. “Your name will live forever.”
Nasreen bounded out of the thicket. She sniffed at the inert Oracle and licked her cheek, rousing the old woman from her trance.
The Magus helped her up. “You spoke a prophecy. Two, actually.”
“The first I remember. The second I do not.” The Oracle bent down and picked up her walking stick.
“My name will live forever.” I kept my mixed emotions in check. Doubt, happiness, surprise—my mind and body reeled from her prediction.
The Magus, not to be outdone, withdrew a vial from his ibex-skin bag. He sprinkled its bloody contents on the ground. “From this earth will arise a magnificent temple, the likes of which has never been seen before. We who praise you, Almaqah, stand in awe and adoration of your munificence and glory. Bless us, Almaqah, so that we in turn can give humble thanks in our simple ways.” He turned to me. “What is the name of the temple?”
“Awwām, Sanctuary of the Sabaean Queen.”
The Magus and the Oracle exchanged another mysterious look. They were a confusing pair. Scheming conspirators against me, and also competitors against each other.
I thanked them both, returned to the group, and everyone departed on my order. We were not a mile from the site when the shouting started.
“Look! Look!”
“It’s a mirage!”
“A sign!”
The Serdar came up alongside me. “Your Excellency.” He pointed into the sky. “Overhead. A wondrous event.”
It was more than wondrous. It was a mystical blessing. A particular sensation ignited my body, the same exhilarating feeling as when Momma flew me to the sea, every muscle tingling with excitement, my heart racing, my soul soaring high. Had I even a poppy-sized seed of doubt about my Great Destiny, it was gone, blown to the far ends of the earth.
A giant rukh soared high overhead. The bird was gigantic—no wonder it could carry lions and bulls in its talons. Its colossal wings, wider than a ship’s mast, flapped once before making a vast gliding loop around the site of the future temple. From the safety of my lap, Nasreen caterwauled at the giant bird.
Our procession stopped to watch the miracle. A giant rukh! It was a favorite of many stories, but no one had actually ever seen one before.
The air reverberated with the giant rukh’s mighty cry, a sound like no other. Both a lion’s roar and an eagle’s screech. The giant rukh shot upward into the sky before arcing toward the gray mountains in the distance.
No one moved or spoke until it disappeared.
Then everyone spoke at once, all eyes fixed on me.
I dare not mar the moment with trite words. In truth, I was speechless. So instead I clapped my hands to a slow, steady beat. They joined in, and we entered Ma’rib by breaking into a thunderous applause.
I was living my Great Destiny. What could go wrong?
CHAPTER 29
“Smells delicious,” I said as the handmaiden set down plates of rosemary flatbread, spiced cucumbers, sweet onions, and succulent goat meat flavored with mint.
Taking advantage of the cool breeze, Duvsha, Kepha, and I took our evening meal on a blanket in the middle of the courtyard.
Choosing the temple’s location and seeing the giant rukh had set me on fire with excitement. Duvsha, having drunk too much wine, broke into fits of laughter every time Kepha imitated the rukh’s thunderous cry.
“Father, stop,” she snorted and clutched her belly, “before it hears you and snatches you away.”
I shoved a few bites of flatbread into my mouth. I was ravenous. I devoured several slices of minted goat and stuffed more bread into my mouth while Duvsha and Kepha made funny faces at each other.
“No!” A petrified shriek shattered the air.
At the courtyard’s entrance, two guards held back the Old Woman Who Listens. It was the name the court had given the old harem mother who claimed her nose and ears missed nothing.
“Don’t eat it! It’s poisoned!” She screamed and writhed like a snake, her feet kicking the guards. “Your Excellency, stop!”
Duvsha swung her arm and knocked the flatbread from my hand. “Let her pass,” she shouted.
My mouth filled with water as I stared down at the food.
The Old Woman Who Listens ran forward, her arms waving. “How much did you eat?”
“I . . .” I didn’t feel right. My tongue was numb, my head felt wool stuffed.
“Get a healer!” The Old Woman prodded the stunned Kepha. She sniffed at the goat meat. “I smelled poison, but it’s not this.” She picked up the rosemary bread and shuddered. “The bread is poisoned.”
I blinked and watched a blurry Kepha run into a mist. A cool hand touched my cheek.
“It’s a mixture of several poisons. Your Excellency…your Excellency, can you hear me? Her Excellency needs to be taken to her room.”
A hundred arms lifted me up, voices ebbing and flowing like the waves. I sank into the abyss.
The queen is half jinn. Part smokeless fire. Surely that will save her.
Or hasten her death.
Her breathing is regular now.
She’s too pale. Too cold.
Don’t die.
Did they find who poisoned her?
The Serdar locked up the chef.
The old ministers are fighting.
One of them poisoned her.
I love you.
Shani is interrogating everyone.
Daughter . . .
Bilqīs . . .
Momma . . .
Bits of conversation floated by like thin reeds on a river. Oblivion’s depths were beautiful. Peaceful, colorful, harmonious. I sunk deeper.
Bilqīs.
I jerked. My mouth pierced by a fishhook. I thrashed about, resisted the persistent tug upwar
d through the depths. Something yanked me out of the water and threw me high into the air where the sun sizzled my skin.
Bilqīs.
Momma’s face emerged from the fire like a goddess, her unbraided hair like a flame-colored lion’s mane, her saffron-hued dress wavering like a mirage.
Bilqīs, you cannot stay here. You have a temple to build and a kingdom to grow.
Momma, I’m so tired.
Weariness is for mere mortals. Get up.
I can’t. A weight presses me down.
It is the burden of power. Let it strengthen you.
Momma wrapped her smoldering arms around me and heat flooded my body.
You have much to do. Get up.
Let me sleep, Momma.
Momma grabbed my head, her burning fingernails searing into my cheeks.
Lead your people, Bilqīs. Make me proud. Embrace your jinn spirit and GET UP!
Momma’s mouth opened, her jaw unhinging like a snake. Fire spewed from her flaming maw into my face.
I choked. Gagged. Sat up.
The fiery world melted into the crystal clear air of my bedchambers.
Shani and Duvsha stared wide-eyed, joy lighting their surprised faces.
“Bring water!” Duvsha leapt from the chair. “And food.” Duvsha set her hand on my face. “You were cold as death a moment ago and now you’re burning hot.”
“Momma . . .” My voice grated like stone against rock.
“Don’t try to speak.” Shani touched my forehead.
My lips cracked into a small smile. Momma breathed life into me from the beyond.
Outside joyful shouts echoed through the halls. “The queen awakes!” Their shouts gathered speed and intensity, bursting from the palace doors, their cheers suffusing the sky.
Shani cocked her ear. “All of Ma’rib rejoices.” She took the water pitcher from a handmaiden, poured a cup, and held it to my parched lips. “Sip slowly.”
The cool sweet liquid dribbled down my grateful throat.
“The people love you.” Shani tipped the cup to my lips. “They say Almaqah’s divine light shines within you. Word will spread of how you defeated death and soon the whole world will kneel at your feet.”
Confessions of a Sheba Queen Page 14
