by Sabrina York
“Let him.”
“Your father would be ashamed of you!”
“His legacy is not one I want to be associated with.”
“How dare you speak against him? His tomb is not even closed!”
“He hated me. I was not the ruthless son—I was the weakling. The embarrassment. I cannot rule Egypt as he did—by blood and terror. Amenmesse is the son who should have been firstborn.”
“Please do not speak like this. You will anger the gods.”
“They are already angry with me, Mother. And you only want me to be king so that you hold power, too. If Amenmesse rules, you have no power—unless he marries Sebi.” He had never spoken his true feelings to his mother. Has my father’s death loosened my tongue?
“I must protect you and your sister.”
A pang of sorrow shot through his heart. She had borne him. His father’s power had corrupted her and made her a self-centered and greedy woman.
“Mother, I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. I’m tired and much weighs on my mind. I need to go to the boat. All will be well tomorrow.”
Indifference swept over him. Who was this woman, really? Does she even care for me? Or is she so selfish she can’t see beyond her own needs? He kissed the top of her head.
“Very well. When I see you tomorrow, you will be king of Egypt. All these wild notions will be gone.”
He nodded.
“I have dreamt of this day for a long time. Do not disappoint me. Tomorrow, my children will rule Egypt.”
He watched her walk away then sighed. Tomorrow. When he was king, he could change the rules. Perhaps not the ones dictated by the gods, but the laws of the land could certainly be altered. The vastness of Egypt spread as far as one could travel in many days, in any direction he chose. I am the most fortunate man alive. Why don’t I feel like it?
He made his way over the rocky path to the riverbank covered with low trees and scrub. The torch-lit launch lay in the distance. Drumming carried through the air, growing louder as he neared.
He stumbled and almost fell. “What?” Something brushed against his leg.
“Meow?”
“What are you doing out here?” He reached down and stroked the black feline that wrapped itself around his legs. “I’ll bet you are looking for scraps. Different colored eyes; how unusual.”
The cat nuzzled him. He lifted it and rubbed his cheek against its head. “Why don’t you come with me? I’d love a dinner partner.” It purred. “A cat with a golden necklace? You must belong to someone special.”
“Meow.” It hopped out of his arms and trotted toward the boat launch.
“Let’s go, then.”
The animal led the way, occasionally stopping to wash or meow its impatience at his slower speed.
The cat stopped and sniffed the air then hissed, its fur bristling. It growled, low and long.
“What is it? Do you see an asp?” He crouched and patted its head.
With a sear of hot pain in his side and a whisper of Amenmesse, the world blackened.
Chapter Five
The cat licked Katharine’s face.
“Fishy breath. Stop it, silly furball. I’ll get up and feed you.” She pushed the animal off her chest and sat up. A warm breeze blew across her. I’m outside.
“Meow?”
“What is going on?”
“Meow?”
“Not you! I’m talking to myself.” Where the heck was she? No, hadn’t been drinking. Probably not abducted, since she wasn’t tied up or anything. Maybe sleepwalking? Yes, that had to be it. People did a lot of that when they were tired or stressed. She stood and stretched, her back a little stiff from lying on the ground. How long have I been out here?
The purring cat figure-eighted around her legs, and she picked it up. The moon hung low in the sky, full and round, but its light filtered across the landscape, barely illuminating any feature. Nothing looked familiar. Water trickled from nearby and she tried to determine where it originated. How far did I walk?
A low moan sounded behind her. She turned, her heart hammering in her throat. Coyote? The cat hopped out of her arms and walked in front of her a few steps then turned and meowed at her.
It disappeared into the underbrush about twenty feet away. She hurried to the spot then crouched down and peered into the darkness. The bush, heavy with the scent of musky flowers, parted in the middle. A sandal. Two sandals. Two feet in two sandals. A man!
He moaned again and she backed away. Was he drunk? Hurt? I have to call 911. As she turned, she bumped into a tall woman.
“He’ll die if we leave him here.” she purred. “We have to help him.”
“I-I was going to call 911.”
“There are no telephones here. We have to save him. Do as I tell you and he has a chance. If not, they’ll see his weakness and kill him.”
Bile crept into her mouth as her adrenaline surged. Kill?
“Who’s trying to kill him?”
The woman leaned closer. “I’ll tell you everything once we get on the boat. Right now, both your lives are in danger. They already nearly killed him. You can save him.”
Her eyes gleamed in the pale moonlight—one green and one blue. They seemed to be lit from within, and Katharine sensed power behind her words.
“I have to get home. I’ll call 911.”
“No time. He’ll die.”
“I got lost…I don’t know where I am.”
“Make a choice. Help me, and he lives. Otherwise, his life is over.”
“Okay. How?”
“Let’s get him out of the bushes. My name is Bast. I am his friend.”
“I’m Katharine. Nice to meet you—even though the circumstances aren’t the best.”
“We need to hurry. Grab his ankles.”
They tugged him, and she couldn’t believe how heavy a man could be without having an ounce of obvious fat on him. Muscle weighed more and this man—hard and cut—was weighty. His shirtless chest, deep brown and smooth, bulged, and he wore some kind of loincloth or kilt. You didn’t find a man this hot lying around just any day.
They edged him into the moonlight. His skin gleamed with perspiration, and his black hair brushed his shoulders. It’s probably not acceptable to fondle an injured man. She shook her head. The man was injured, and someone was trying to kill him—and she stared at his chest. I do need that one-night stand.
On his side, just below his ribcage, blood coagulated on his skin in an oval patch. A puncture wound. Fortunately, not bleeding anymore. He winced, as she touched the sticky blood near the wound.
“It’s deep,” Katharine whispered.
“We need to get him out of here.”
“Where are you taking me?” He struggled to sit.
“Be quiet if you wish to live,” Bast said. “We’re trying to save you.”
His head bobbed once before he passed out. They dragged him a bit farther, and then pulled him to his feet.
“This way,” Bast said. Each of them put an arm over her shoulders and they half dragged, half carried him down the path. “We need to get him on the boat. If we have to, we’ll pretend he is drunk and we are his women for the night.”
“What?” Katharine scrunched her nose.
Bast smiled. “It’s half true.”
She shook her head. Bast was about as wacky as Missy.
The drumming stopped as they approached the boat launch.
“Welcome, Seti.” An old man stood on the dock, arms crossed and smiling.
“The vizier,” Bast whispered.
Katharine gaped at the odd clothing and the torches—had she stepped onto the set of a reality television show?
Bast slumped Seti over onto Katharine and left her to support him on her own. She whispered to the vizier, and his eyes grew wide. He immediately waved the guards away and helped the women get Seti onto the boat.
“You must not let anyone stop you,” he whispered. “I will see what I can do here.”
“We’
ll sail straight to the house. Katharine is a doctor.”
“I’m a vet—”
The vizier looked at her and scowled. “Wearing odd clothing. Are you sure you can save him?”
I’ll try.” She turned to the other woman. “Can we trust the oarsmen?”
Bast helped lower Seti to the deck. “Yes, they will protect him at all costs. But we have to leave before Amenmesse comes back.”
“Hurry!” the vizier said. “The wind blows strongly tonight. Your sails will be full.”
The boat rocked as the vizier moved from side to side. Katharine held on. How had this night gotten so crazy? When did I agree to a boat ride? “I need to go home.” She moved to step ashore.
“I will help you get home soon,” Bast said. “Please, help him. Madame Eve knew you would be the one to save him. She sent you.”
“Excuse me?”
“She sent you to Seti. He is your chosen.”
Katharine sat on the hewn bench. Her feet tingled. Every drop of blood was undoubtedly in her toes, and the swaying of the boat made her head spin. Her date was not only injured, but his attacker was on the loose.
“Eve?” Seti whispered. He moaned and slipped into unconsciousness again.
Chapter Six
Seti fingered his side.
“Leave it alone. It’ll get infected.” The musical voice lilted with an unfamiliar accent. Roman? He tried to open his eyes, but they stung and filled with tears. His side throbbed.
“What happened?” he whispered.
“You were stabbed. We found you in the bushes by the river.”
“My half-brother. He tried to kill me.”
“What?”
“Amenmesse. He wants me dead.”
“Why?”
A hand brushed his stomach and through the pain, flutters of desire rose through him. She pinched at his wound, and the desire rushed away. “Ouch! What are you doing?”
“Checking to see how deep it is. You need stitches, but I’m not equipped to handle that out here.”
He groaned. What nonsense is she talking? “Where am I?” He squinted and saw the dome of the night sky above him, black. No moon in his field of vision, just darkness. Maybe my eyes aren’t really open.
“We are on your boat, heading to your house. Bast is guiding the oarsmen.”
“Bastet is here?” he raised his head, but the dizziness overtook him and he collapsed. Oh, by the gods, it hurts.
“Yes. Now lie still and let me clean your injury.”
He listened to the rush of the water as they skimmed over it. Will he attack the boat? Maybe his half-brother presumed him dead. If only luck would hold out, he’d make it to the safety of the house.
“This’ll sting,” the woman said. “It’s water.”
A frigid coldness sliced through him, followed by a burning that bore into him like a hot stake. He shook, his teeth chattering. By the gods….
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but we have to get it clean.”
She wrapped linen over his injury and around his back. Her hair trailed along his chest as she tied the bandage. Her touch was light as a butterfly flitting over his skin, and he kept his eyes closed, lest he spoil the magic. The phantom touches aroused him despite his pain, and he twisted to hide his state.
She covered him with a blanket and sat beside him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I wish I’d had some antibiotic cream to put on your wound—it would feel a lot better.”
Her hair brushed against his face, as the wind blew over the ship. He shivered.
“Bastet said Eve sent you,” he said.
“About that….”
“She told me that Eve would send someone for me. Someone who would also need help.” His head spun from speaking.
“Careful. Relax and try to rest. We can talk later.” Her hand brushed his forehead.
He listened to the water lapping the sides of the boat for a few moments, feeling sleep on the edge of his consciousness. The night held mysteries—many more than the one’s he’d expected. This woman, Eve, and Bastet. The gods mocked his indecision over taking his father’s place by sending him puzzles he couldn’t begin to unravel.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Katharine.”
“Lovely. I am Seti. I assume Bastet told you.”
She pressed on his bandage. He groaned when the searing pain swept over him.
“You need to get to the hospital. I’m sure you need stitches.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Her breath hitched.
“You’re worried?” He raised his head.
“Lie down and rest.” She lowered him to the thin mattress.
“I want to see you, but my vision is so cloudy.”
“We’re on a boat in the middle of a large river. I’m not going anywhere. I really need to be home working.”
“Katharine?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you not want to be here with me?”
The pause lingered longer than it should have for a simple answer then he felt her hand on his chest. Warmth spread inside him, and he lay his hand over hers. So loving. If only….
“I’m glad I was here to help Bast get you to the boat. You could have died if no one found you.”
“But you did. Eve sent Bastet to bring you to me. I feel it as surely as the Nile swells over the banks each season. You are meant to be here.”
He listened to the night for a few minutes, waiting for her to speak more, perhaps tell him of her needs or wishes but she remained quiet. Was she looking at the stars? Or at him? His curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes, pushing back tears of pain. The moon wavered in the sky like a large pebble in the bottom of a pool, and he blinked to clear his vision. After a moment, the moon stilled and his head steadied. He turned to her, and his heart sped.
Divinity. Her hair, long and straight, pale as moonlight and as reflective as silver grain, waved around her face like a sea creature in the river breeze. Her lips were full and dark against her fair skin. Her nose, tiny and slightly upturned, looked like it had been molded from a flower petal. She watched the moon then turned to look at him. Joy streaked through him when she smiled. By the gods, she must stay the night.
“Can you help me sit?” He tried to push up with his hand, grasping the side of the boat for leverage.
“Whoa, hold on.”
She put her arm around his shoulders. She smelled of sweet flowers and deep perfumes he didn’t recognize, and he wanted to bury his face in her neck. His vision swirled as the pain spiked.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded, leaning against the side of the boat. The intoxicating scent of her lingered in his nose.
“Do you want some water?”
“Please.” The odd garments she wore outlined her curves and legs. Perhaps the clothing was for travel. He followed the curve of her hip and leg down and back up again until she stood then he looked away.
The small rectangular sail furled and cracked in the wind. The vessel wasn’t meant for more than a short trip down the river, but it sped along on the current and with the wind. The bare floor held a few woven mats for seating, and the long mattress he rested on would have been shielded by a canopy in daylight. Two oarsmen rowed at the far end and a shadowed figure stood with a long pole, steering.
“Bastet?”
“Hmm?” Katharine knelt on the mattress and held a waterskin to his lips. He drank, the cool liquid filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. Close enough to smell, almost taste the scents that enveloped her, he leaned closer.
She moved to sit beside him.
“Is Bastet steering?”
“Yes.”
“This night is unlike any I have had.”
“Same here. Times ten.” She pushed her hair away from her face. “How long does it take to reach your house? I need to call a cab so I can go home.”
“The river runs quic
kly this season. But you don’t need to leave on your cab tonight. Stay with me. We can go to town together in the morning.” Surprise crossed her face and she shook her head.
“Oh, no. I have to go back tonight. I have work to do.”
He reached for her hand and cupped it in his own. She trembled under his touch. “What work cannot wait until tomorrow? I owe you for saving me. And who would refuse a future king’s request?”
Chapter Seven
Future king? Maybe he hit his head when he fell. Or maybe she’d hit hers. The sleepwalking gig had gotten out of control. There wasn’t a river near her house, nor any hot men walking around in loincloths. She’d been reading too many romance novels and now she was dreaming them. Things are out of control.
He squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong? Do you not find me acceptable? Did Eve not bring us together so we could help each other?”
She gulped. That must be the explanation. The 1Night Stand date Missy had set up, combined with a long day at the clinic—she was sleeping hard and having the weirdest fantasies ever. She pinched herself.
“What are you doing?” He laughed, holding his bandaged side, then doubled over.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Amenmesse will pay for this.”
“Why would your own brother try to kill you?” And why all the drama in my dream? I thought I just needed sex.
“My half-brother.” He blew out a long, slow breath. His dark lashes fluttered against his strong cheekbones, and she pushed his hair from his face.
“But why?”
“He wants the throne of Egypt. He thinks he should rule.”
“Egypt?”
“Yes, I am firstborn son. By birthright, the throne is mine. My father lies cold in his tomb and when the sun rises over the pyramids tomorrow, I will be crowned.”
“You are telling me you are going to be a pharaoh?” Crazier and crazier. I definitely have an imagination.
“That is what some call it, yes. We call it king.”
