“We shall place her front and center,” said Kamilah. “Soromeh’s lady-in-waiting will probably not come back. She was the only one who could obtain anything from our sister. This Naími, on the other hand, did not hesitate to bring her back by force. We can judge her methods, but the truth is that Soromeh is currently sleeping in her room, while the rest of her convoy is dead.”
“You want to make her the new lady-in-waiting?” asked Sethy, incredulous. “She killed four men!”
“As any soldier of her close guard would do in similar circumstances.”
“Soromeh will be furious,” noted Damon.
“They shall keep each other busy,” said Kamilah, closing the conversation.
Sethy thought for a moment and ended up nodding.
“We’ll double her guard, as planned. Every night, the main door of her chambers, and her servants’ bedroom, will be locked. Naími will have her own lodgings, outside the royal wing. Her contacts with Soromeh will be limited, and always under watch.”
Kamilah nodded, satisfied. Damon, on the other side, clenched his jaw. He was not allowed to oppose the royal children once they made their decision.
* * *
Naími had been brought to a tiny room that only contained a wooden bed, a water jug, and a chamber pot. She was sitting on the floor, legs bent under her like a scribe, and was trying to meditate.
Anubis was stretched on the bed, hands behind his head, ankles crossed.
“I must admit, I am impressed,” he said, bowing his canine head. “You’re in the palace! All right, we still don’t know if you’re going to be executed come morning, but…”
“Let me concentrate.”
“Oh, you’re not afraid of me anymore? That’s refreshing.”
“You could have stopped me at any time. I’m starting to believe that you do, indeed, wish for the success of my mission.”
“A mission that you’ll probably fail if you keep taking such risks. What were you thinking, killing city guards? And manhandling the princess! All this only leads to your beheading!”
At this moment, the door opened, and a servant bowed deeply.
“Lady Naími? Please forgive the delay. His highness the prince asked me to lead you to your chambers.”
She got back on her feet and sent a furtive, satisfied smile to the jackal. Anubis bowed his head in respect.
Chapter 5
Changing of the Guard
Iram kneeled next to the bed and lifted the sheet. In the darkness, two pale eyes stared back with suspicion.
“Onamu, are you ready to come out? It’s time to bring the morning meal to her majesty.”
A moment of hesitation. The kid made a vague gesture towards himself.
“Yes, you have to wash and put on clothes, like every day,” said Iram. “After that, we’ll go down to the kitchens to fetch her majesty’s meal, and, like every morning, we’ll try to convince her to eat, and, like every morning, she won’t touch a single bite.”
He breathed deeply and let his head fall on the mattress.
“That won’t stop us from trying once again.”
The child slowly came out from under the bed, to Iram’s great relief. It was getting easier to convince him. Onamu had spent the first two days hiding, before hunger made him leave his spot. Three other days went by before he accepted washing himself and four more before he said even a word in front of Iram.
“It’s starting to stink,” said Iram, pointing under the bed. “You know I don’t mind you hiding food, but try to restrain yourself to fruits and nuts, all right? No meat,” he explained with more insistence.
He helped Onamu wash his face and get dressed. The kid was uncomfortable in the clean linen and fitted sandals, but he accepted them because he knew that meant he could wear the braided wig. He worried whenever his bright hair was visible and could only relax when it was hidden. His face, covered in large freckles, was harder to hide, but he was generally left alone by the palace inhabitants, who believed him to be contagious.
Once ready, both went down to the kitchens. The protocol demanded that meals got delivered to the princess’s chambers by the cook and that they should taste a bite from every plate. Since Soromeh was unwilling to see anyone, Iram had tasked himself with fetching and testing all her meals. Over the days, he figured out where to fetch fresh water and where to send the clothes to be cleaned, as well as how to dust the curtains, clean every room from floor to ceiling and make sure there was always food, water, and wine available for the prince and Sir Damon when they came to visit.
The presence of her brother and her fiancé did not have an impact on Soromeh. Lying in bed or sitting on the balcony, she reacted to nothing and no one. Sometimes, she was brought back to reality when Onamu sat next to her. She lifted her arm, he curled against her, and both stayed, unmoving, staring at nothing, in silence.
When Iram and Onamu came back from the kitchen, carrying food, they found Sir Damon standing in the middle of the living area. His face was somber. Soromeh was still sitting at the table, in the same spot they had left her. She stared at the grain of the wood and did not react to her fiancé’s words.
“The embalming proceedings have started. She’ll be buried with her father’s family, unless you wish to place her in your funeral chamber.”
Soromeh had no reaction. After a while, Damon placed something in front of her. It was a leather bracelet, covered in a golden plaque that bore Soromeh’s name. It was a servant bracelet, like the ones Iram and Onamu both wore.
“I’m sorry,” said Damon.
Soromeh suddenly stood up and went to her room, slamming the door behind her. Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, glanced one last time at Misha’s bracelet, and left the chambers in silence.
Iram and Onamu, discreet and silent so far, finally moved to set the table. They left a wide space around the bracelet.
Soromeh came out of her room. She had exchanged her light sleeping gown for an everyday dress. Her face was clean and her hair brushed. Iram was surprised to see she had even put on sandals.
“I can’t stay trapped in here,” she whispered, staring at the bracelet. “I need air.”
Iram went to fetch the sun umbrella and the tall fan made of ostrich feathers. They followed her out of her chambers. She avoided the stares and did not answer to greetings or condolences.
Two guards always followed her. Onamu kept turning every three steps to glance at them with worry. He was back to clinging to Soromeh’s dress, trying to look smaller. She was also nervous, closing her fists, biting her lower lip, and jumping every time someone said a word.
Iram could recognize a spooked animal that was ready to flee.
“Your majesty?” he whispered, unsure. “If you wish, Onamu and I can go back to your chambers and leave you alone.”
“That wouldn’t change a thing. Out of my chambers, I’m always followed by guards.”
Iram quickly glanced around. They were currently walking in a deserted corridor with many rooms and, further on, an intersection. The many arches were covered by linen curtains. Oil lamps burned, evenly spaced on the walls.
“I could offer you a distraction,” he muttered.
Soromeh stayed silent for a couple of steps and nodded. She whispered something to Onamu, who released her dress. Iram gathered his courage.
When they reached the next lamp, he faked tripping and caught its flame with the umbrella. The dry braided leaves immediately caught fire. Iram yelled, shook it frantically, and walked a few steps back to reach the next door. The curtain started burning.
The guards ran and snatched the umbrella from Iram’s hands. The first threw it to the ground to stomp on the fire, and the other pulled the curtains to do the same. Iram started groveling and apologizing. Onamu cried, loudly, and a handful of people appeared at the other doors to witness the scene.
Between two frantic apologies, Iram caught Soromeh’s eye. She was rooted in place and was staring as if she was seeing him for the fir
st time.
A moment passed. Then she started running.
* * *
Naími entered the palace training grounds, ignoring the curious stares of the soldiers. It wasn’t often that a woman came close to the barracks, even rarer when she was a noble.
The captain of the guard—a very tall, very muscled, and very dark man—barked an order, and the soldiers went back to their training. He bowed to Naími.
“My respects,” he said, bluntly. “Debeheni, Captain of the Royal Guard, at your service. You’re the little princess’s new lady-in-waiting, aren’t you? The replacement for the one that was found without her head?”
Naími swallowed back her indignation.
“I am indeed at her majesty’s service, and the orders are to keep that gruesome detail from her. She doesn’t need to know more about the suffering of her closest servant. I request that you keep this to yourself.”
“All right, all right, I’ll keep it in mind. What about you, noble lady? What are you doing around here dressed so nicely?”
Naími felt awkward in her new clothes. The royal family had gifted her many things in gratitude, and she had no other choice but to wear the dresses, jewelry, oils, and perfumes when walking around the palace.
“I came to fetch new soldiers for the princess’s close guard. I have a note from Pa-Heb,” she said, offering a roll of papyrus.
“That old fox is still stuck in bed, I see.”
He quickly read the message and raised a hand. His troops stopped immediately.
“Silas, Harouk, and Dewei!” he shouted. “Come here!”
Three men left the crowd and stood at attention. Debeheni stared at them for a while, doubtful.
“What is that old fox even thinking?” he groaned. “You, you’re too thin, and you— you look like a scribe, not a soldier! I hope you all have good legs. You need to be fast to guard the little princess!”
“Can I leave with them?” asked Naími, growing impatient. “I can’t leave her majesty alone for too long.”
Debeheni waved them off and went back to shouting orders.
Naími and the three soldiers left the training grounds and the noise of clashing weapons.
Once inside the palace, one of the three men stepped in front of her and crossed his arms. He was the one that looked like a scribe, his face strict, posture straight, and skin like bronze.
“What does this mean?” he snapped. “This was not the plan!”
“Glad to see you too, Dewei,” she snapped back.
“Don’t be sarcastic. We raised you better than this. Ten days without contact, Naími! And when you finally remember our existence, it’s to send us into hiding among those sweaty humans—and then you change our post with no subtlety whatsoever! The captain of the guard is a suspicious man. He might mention this to the king and ruin whatever advantage you—”
She brandished a papyrus in front of his face. It was their orders.
“If you take the time to read the seal at the bottom, you’ll see this is not my name,” she said. “Pa-Heb, chief of Princess Soromeh’s close guard, picked you three to replace the ones that fell in combat. I am just the messenger.”
Dewei squinted and grabbed the papyrus.
“You put our names in his mind,” he guessed. “I just hope you didn’t leave any trace of your interference.”
“Are you implying I can’t do something as easy as that? I’m not the defenseless child you adopted, Dewei. I have complete mastery of your teachings, and I don’t need—”
“Don’t start, you two,” said the soldier to their left.
He was taller than all of them by at least a head and could have lifted them all without trouble. His thick, black brows made him look even more dangerous.
Naími sighed and turned towards him.
“You’re right, Harouk. We can’t afford to be suspicious. How have you all been, these past few days?”
“Not bad,” he said, shrugging. “If you forget the hard pallets and disgusting food, and you don’t want to know about the latrines.”
“Don’t complain,” said Dewei. “We don’t even need all of this. Angels have to remain above such mortal preoccupations.”
“Not like our little feral girl who, after only a handful of days, is now a noblewoman!” said Harouk, showing her off. “Naími, I had no idea you could look so classy.”
“Don’t mock me,” she said, landing a solid punch on his arm, which he barely noticed. “The jewels weigh more than the stones of the palace. Sadly, inside these walls, you have to buy respect with gold.”
“Don’t listen to them,” said the third soldier. “We know you’re doing everything you can to ensure the success of your mission.”
He was tall and graceful, too pale for the Egyptian sun, too thin for the king’s army. His hair fell freely over his shoulders, and his gaze was serene.
“Thank you, Silas,” she said with an honest smile. “It’s good to know that one of you appreciates my work.”
“We do appreciate your efforts,” corrected Dewei, “but the success of this mission supersedes everything. Next time, warn us before changing the plan.”
“Why even bother?” she said, starting to walk again. “None of you have free will! These decisions rest on my shoulders and mine alone. This mission depends on my choices. Why do I need to share if it doesn’t count?”
Her eye caught Silas’s, and she immediately seemed to deflate under his patience.
“Forgive me. These last few days have been hard. Life at the palace is an unending parade of shallowness, and the princess, whom I’m supposed to stay close to, refuses me entrance to her chambers.”
“By the way, why did you assign us to the youngest princess?” asked Harouk. “I heard the other guards talk. No one wants that job.”
“No other post would allow us to get so close to the nobility. She’s young. She won’t be suspicious of you three.”
“Still, you need to be careful,” said Silas, his tone thoughtful. “You changed her destiny. You may not be limited by celestial laws, but these kinds of things never come without consequences.”
“She’s just a child,” said Dewei. “Our powers will be enough to bring her from her chambers to the throne room and back again.”
They reached Soromeh’s chambers to find a distressed group of guards. The princess had disappeared once again.
* * *
Soromeh heard the trumpets sound the alert. From her spot on the highest branch of the tallest sycamore of the royal gardens, she could follow the panicked guards. She knew the doors of the outer wall would be closed until further notice and that the docks would be under heavy surveillance.
She let her head fall back on the trunk.
“Misha, you would already have found me,” she mumbled, her voice empty.
She wanted to cry, but the tears did not come. She only felt a void where she used to have emotions. Having Misha’s death confirmed did not change anything in her. The greenery and the wind in her hair brought her no comfort.
She remained there a good part of the day. Sometimes, guards appeared on the stone paths but never raised their heads. She watched them pass, indifferent.
At one point, when the sky was painted in reds and gold, a different silhouette approached the royal gardens. The oracle Naími walked briskly, followed by a huge guard.
“Over here, Harouk.”
“It’s a jungle,” he said, looking at the thousands of plants around them. “Do you think you’re going to find the princess under a bush?”
“The palace was searched thoroughly. There’s been no trace of her since this morning. The gardeners are the last ones to have seen her.”
“Why haven’t they said anything before now?”
“The palace inhabitants love her,” said Naími, exasperated. “I think they wanted to cover her escapade.”
“Wait, look.”
He was pointing at the base of the sycamore. Soromeh had left her sandals near the roo
ts.
“Princess Soromeh?” called Naími. “We can see you through the leaves.”
“Go away,” whispered Soromeh, hiding her face in her hands.
“Your Majesty?”
“Go away!”
At the base of the tree, Naími was thinking. Her decision made, she started unlacing her sandals.
“You’re not going to climb a tree in the king’s private garden?” asked Harouk.
“Would you prefer shaking the trunk until she falls like an overripe fruit?”
He measured the sycamore with a glance.
“That was not a serious suggestion,” said Naími while removing her earrings. “Hold all this and stay alert, in case one of us loses our footing.”
“Do you want me to go instead?”
“No, I need this opportunity to read her mind. I need to do more than establish a verbal and visual contact—I need to actually touch her too. She would never let me get that close at any other time.”
Harouk evaluated the tree’s height.
“Is it safe? You never know what can happen when you do that.”
“I managed to read Pa-Heb’s mind and two other members of the nobility. I doubt a child’s mind is more complicated than theirs.”
She then grabbed a branch and climbed easily.
“Your majesty?” she called, halfway there. “I came to help you back down.”
There was no answer.
Naími reached her. Soromeh was sitting astride one of the last solid branches, curled into herself, her face hidden in her hands.
“Come, grab onto me,” Naími cajoled.
Soromeh shook her head, face still hidden. The oracle looked down and saw other soldiers approach the private gardens. She would have no other chance.
“Soromeh!” she snapped, grabbing her by the wrist, “Look at me!”
“Let go of me!” shrieked the princess.
She raised her head, her eyes catching Naími’s, and froze. Her expression became empty.
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 6
