“Tell the Pharaoh that his son has been born.”
“And the queen? How is she?”
The old woman gives Nehi a pointed look as if she can see directly into his heart. “You may tell the Pharaoh that his wife is well enough. She should be up and around in only a few days’ time.”
Nehi lets out a sigh of relief and ignores the midwife’s curious look. “Thank you. I’ll let the Pharaoh know right now,” he says and takes one more look at Aniya before he leaves.
He’s halfway to the Pharaoh’s chambers when he realizes he’s still holding the gift for Aniya in his hand. It will give me an excuse to come visit her again soon. Nehi is so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the odd quiet of the hallway. Guards should be posted outside of the Pharoah’s door, but none are there. Nehi looks around, but the hall is eerily silent. His breathing quickens and feels loud and out of place. Where are the guards? Even when Pharaoh is absent from the palace, his personal chambers are always well secured.
Nehi's pulse accelerates as he pulls open the doors from the outer chamber into the receiving hall. It too, is quiet and deserted; the next set of doors is also without guards. Nehi lets himself into the next hall. Usually filled with scribes and visiting dignitaries, it is completely empty. No guards stand at attention at the next set of doors leading to the final antechamber where Pharaoh meets with his most trusted advisors. Nehi has only been in this room a handful of times accompanying Rahotep. He’s never been beyond the next set of doors into the Pharaoh’s own personal room. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he places his fingers against the handles. Entering the Pharaoh’s chambers uninvited is forbidden, punishable by death, but Nehi can't ignore the feeling that something is truly wrong. Pharaoh is in danger. He knows it before he opens the door.
“Hello? My lord?” Nehi steps into the great room. Nothing but his own echoing voice answers him back. Nehi walks toward the center of the room. He spies an enormous four poster bed and quickens his steps when he notices the outline of someone laying on the bed.
“My lord?” He calls out again, a little louder this time. The figure does not move. Nehi steps up to the raised bed and pushes aside the gauzy mosquito netting. Pharaoh looks back at him, though the ruler’s eyes no longer see anything.
Great gods of Egypt.
A movement on the bed behind the Pharaoh’s body catches his eye and Nehi looks in horror as a great, brown cobra lifts its head and torso off the bed, its hiss loud and threatening. The snake raises, swaying back and forth like a pendulum, until its head is level with Nehi’s own. It strikes and misses its mark only because Nehi steps back at the same time falling off the platform and onto the floor. Nehi wastes no time for the beast to attack again but scrambles to his feet and runs for the door.
No wonder there are no guards. Someone planned... The words run through his mind as he opens the door.
Rahotep is standing there, his fingers pointed at Nehi’s heart. “Sleep,” the high priest says and Nehi’s world goes dark. Nehi’s body crumples atop the gift he still holds in his hand. The delicate wood of the weaving tools he kept after Aniya’s failed attempt to escape breaks into pieces between his fingers and falls to the floor.
Already deeply asleep, Nehi’s unconscious mind takes in Rahotep’s final command and obeys.
“Forget.”
Aniya looks down at the child.
Her son.
He will be Pharaoh some day. Not because of destiny, or through wishful thinking, but because he is the only male heir of Akhenaten, the great Pharaoh of Egypt, her husband, and as of yet, there were no other male heirs to lay claim to the throne.
And now, there never will be.
Aniya pushes away a tear, careful not to smear the black kohl outlining her eyes. She is still not used to wearing it, even after almost a year of living in the palace.
She lifts the baby from the bed, careful to support his head, holding him as she held her younger brothers and sisters when they were newborns. With eight younger siblings, she had become quite skilled at child rearing. Especially after her mother died.
It had been the best part of becoming Pharaoh’s third wife -- being able to support her brothers and sisters. Her father no longer drank himself into a stupor. He even was able to find a wife of his own, a kind woman who couldn’t bear children of her own but was glad to become mother to Aniya’s siblings.
“We’ve both lost a parent, haven’t we, little one?” she whispers to the babe in her arms. He eyes her drowsily, taking in her face before finally succumbing to sleep.
“I think he would have liked to meet you,” Aniya says as the tiny pharaoh-to-be falls asleep. She thinks of her late husband. He had been more than kind to her. After some time together, she thought he may have even loved her. And she had come to love him, too. In her way. She loved him enough to miss him now that he was gone.
“May Osiris have mercy on his soul,” Aniya whispers. Even though it was against the law to speak of any other gods than Aten, Aniya still remembered, and made a point to say the prayer to the god of the underworld again.
A quick knock on the wooden doors of her chambers precedes two guards as they enter the room and flank the entrance. An entourage of servants follows a tall, slender woman into the room, -- Nefertiti, Pharaoh’s first and Great Royal Wife. Her steps are quick and she walks with conviction, as if she owns the entire palace. As of tomorrow, for all practical purposes, she will.
Tomorrow will be the fortieth day since Akhenaten's death, and the Pharaoh’s spirit will finally be making his journey through the Duat. Though Aniya’s son will someday become Pharaoh himself, Nefertiti will be named regent and will assume control until the boy is old enough to assume the throne -- a decision that Nefertiti gets to make.
The Great Royal Wife crosses the floor in a few, quick strides, her followers racing to keep up. Aniya looks up and tries not to be afraid. It doesn’t work. Nefertiti has never been overtly unkind to Aniya since she became Akhenaten’s third wife. Mostly, Nefertiti hadn’t bothered to notice her. There was no reason for her to. After all, as third wife, Aniya is a queen of Egypt in name only, little more than a highly-prized servant whose only purpose has been to bear her husband a son. Nefertiti was the Great Royal Wife - a confidant and helper to the Pharaoh in all matters.
The queen stops in front of her and looks down at the baby sleeping in her arms. Her face is a mask, and Aniya can not guess what true feelings lie beneath the queen’s carefully-laid exterior. “Have you given him a name yet?” Nefertiti asks.
“No, not yet.” Aniya pushes aside a small lock of black hair and gazes at her son. He is only a few weeks old and is indeed very beautiful.
She had been frightened at first when she realized that accepting Pharaoh’s proposal might not bring forth a son, but the king had been kind. When she confessed her fear of not being able to bear an heir for him, the king assured her that he would not be angry with her. It had been Rahotep who had promised a son, not her. He vowed that he would be pleased with any child, and not to worry. Aniya had taken him at his word. Along with all of Egypt, she was greatly saddened when the king died suddenly, just weeks before he was able to meet his only son.
She was further saddened when Queen Kiya suddenly left Waset to move back to her former home of Amarna. Though Kiya had not paid much attention to Aniya, she had been somewhat kind over the past year. Life in the palace had been more lonely than she had expected, especially since she rarely saw her only friend, Nehi. Occasionally he was able to sneak away some time to spend with her, but his duties as the priest’s apprentice had kept him overly busy. It almost seemed that Rahotep had kept him busy on purpose.
“He has Akhenaten's eyes,” Nefertiti remarks. “And his strong brow. He will be a great leader for Egypt some day.”
“I hope so.”
“With the One God’s blessing of course.”
“Of course,” Aniya says, looking up at the R
oyal Wife. Nefertiti has held strong to the worship of Aten, and Aniya has not been deaf to the whispers in the palace that the worship of Aten has been due mostly to Nefertiti’s strong influence.
“You understand of course, that though the babe is to inherit the position of Pharaoh, it is I who will truly be mother and father to Egypt until the boy is old enough to assume the throne and the duties that will be required of him,” Nefertiti reminds her.
“Yes, Nefertiti.”
“You need to give him a strong name - one that honors Aten and all he has given us. Make certain you have it chosen for the naming ceremony tomorrow evening. After the final funeral rites for Pharaoh are completed, all of Egypt will be eager to learn the name of their new Pharaoh.”
“I have chosen a very powerful name. I will whisper it into his ear as the sun rises in the east.”
“Good,” Nefertiti says. She reaches out to stroke the baby’s head, but then pulls her hand back. “I want him to learn from Rahotep as well. The Vizier knows many things. He can teach him well.”
“Rahotep? Is he to remain the high priest, even though Pharaoh is…” she almost said the word ‘dead,’ but corrects herself, “crossing into the Duat?”
“Certainly! He is needed now more than ever. Why do you ask such a question?”
“I don’t trust him.” The words slip out before Aniya can stop them.
Nefertiti raises a single brow. “Well, I do. That will have to be good enough for you.”
“I understand,” Aniya says, recoiling from her mistake. She had been so careful to stay away from Rahotep since she had been crowned queen. After the pregnancy was confirmed, he seemed only too eager to stay away from her as well. When Akhenaten passed away suddenly, she had hoped that Rahotep would eventually be replaced as Vizier. It seems that was not to be the case.
“I hope you do, little Aniya. I hope you understand that your presence here is only to honor the memory of Pharaoh and because you were lucky enough to bear his heir. Neither you nor Kiya were ever truly loved by the Pharaoh. You were just a means to an end.” Nefertiti leans down and whispers in Aniya’s ear, “There is only one true queen of Egypt. You’ll do well to remember that.”
As quickly as she came, Nefertiti turns around and leaves the room. Aniya’s hands shake as she holds the future of Egypt in her arms.
Nefertiti folds her arms and waits in the hall as her servants pull open the massive cedar doors to her own private chamber. A pair of guards scout out the room for intruders and return to announce that the room is empty. She enters alone, leaving the guards and servants to wait outside her chambers. They are used to the queen’s desire for absolute privacy and stand attentively in the hall.
The queen crosses through the ornately decorated room, her mind barely registering the lavish furniture and jewel-encrusted decorations. She has other things on her mind. She pauses for a moment to take off the imposing crown. Outside of this room, she always made sure to wear the headpiece; the people of Egypt need to be reminded that she and Pharaoh are one, especially now that he is gone.
She places the crown on a table and studies her reflection in a mirror of hammered gold. Without the crown sitting on her bald head, she feels smaller. Nefertiti shakes her shoulders as if she can shake off her self doubt by force. She needs reassurance that she is still in charge, still the beloved Queen of Egypt.
She walks through an arch that leads to an outside garden. Akhenaten had it built for her when they were first married, back when she loved him more for the man he was than the position he filled. That was long ago. Flowering vines of jasmine and hyssop cover the walls of the queen’s private garden and perfume the air. Nefertiti comes to a stop before a bubbling pool of water dotted with floating, blue lotus flowers.
A lone, black jar sits on the lip of the pool. She picks it up and holds it carefully in her hands. She pulls out a stopper and pours out a single drop of black, oily liquid. It hits the water and then begins to elongate, twist and expand. The waters stir and bubble furiously until the entire pool is filled with the obsidian liquid. Just as quickly as it began, the water stills completely, as silent and smooth as a mirror.
Nefertiti kneels down and gazes into it, her midnight reflection gazing back at her. “By the power of Aten, the One God, I have summoned you.” The mouth of the reflection doesn’t move, but stays completely still as Nefertiti makes her request, “Tell me, who is the most beloved woman in all of Egypt?”
“Royal First Wife and Queen of Egypt, beautiful are you, proud and regal,” the reflection speaks back to her, “but Egypt has given her love to another - the mother of the new Pharaoh.”
Nefertiti’s mouth twists into a fierce scowl. “Aniya,” she hisses.
A knock at the door beckons Nefertiti back into her chambers. She places the blue crown on her head once more, masking all traces of her anger with a cool, impassive countenance. “Enter,” she says when she’s ready.
The doors open and Rahotep steps into the room with a large, covered basket in his arms. He sets it down on the floor and bows before the queen. When the doors close behind him, he approaches so close to Nefertiti that they are just a whisper’s breadth away from each other.
“My queen,” he says, and places his lips against hers, pulling her into a fierce embrace. Nefertiti returns his caresses just as enthusiastically.
“Has she chosen a name for the child?” Rahotep asks when they finally pull back from each other.
“Yes, but she has not yet given it to him.”
“Our plan will not work if she has not given the child his name. Once she names the child, the One God will bestow him with the secret name of his soul. The ceremony will not work without his secret name.”
“She will have given it to him by dawn. I’m certain of it. Did you do what I asked you?”
“Yes, my Queen.” Rahotep steps back to the basket he carried into the room, removes the covering, and lifts to display it to Nefertiti.
A basket of fruit, fully ripe and mouth-watering sits in his hands. Nefertiti inspects each piece. All are familiar to her, save one. The basket was brought as a gift from a foreign dignitary visiting for the final burial rites of her late husband. Nefertiti picks up the unknown fruit and carefully cups the shiny, red fruit in the palm of her hand. She inspects the skin, the brown stem, the single green leaf -- not a single blemish.
“Are you sure the curse will work?”
“Trust me, my queen. The curse will work most certainly,” Rahotep says with a smile.
“I can not deliver this myself,” the queen says. “Aniya doesn’t trust me, and she most certainly doesn’t trust you. Someone else must deliver this to her. Someone she knows and likes.”
“I have just the person in mind,” Rahotep says as he plucks the fruit from the queen’s hand and places it back into the basket.
“Good. Make sure he is certain that she’s given the child his name before he delivers the basket. And make sure he tells no one where the fruit came from. I’ve already heard whispers from those that think I had something to do with Pharaoh’s death. I don’t want anyone connecting me to Aniya’s.”
“You needn’t worry. I already possess this servant’s secret name. He can’t disobey me. I’ll simply forbid him from telling another living soul about where the fruit came from.”
Nefertiti nods in approval and Rahotep makes his way to the door.
“What did the visiting lord call this fruit, by the way?” she asks before he leaves.
“An apple.”
ELEVEN
Nehi’s jaw clenches as he walks through the palace. The deserted early morning halls echo with his footsteps. Sweat beads along his brow, though it’s still cool and his muscles tense with exertion. He’s never been able to defy Rahotep’s orders in the past, but he’s never tried as hard as he is right now. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth as he chews the inside of his cheek. He’s willing himself to turn around, but his legs be
tray him. They take him where he does not wish to go.
He’s arrived. Guards part and stand aside for him to announce himself.
Leave. Turn around. Run away.
His fist shakes with effort as he tries to keep it firmly rooted against his arm, but it lifts of its own accord and knocks on the tall, cedar door in front of him. It opens and there is Aniya, cradling her sleeping son in her arms. “Nehi! What a wonderful surprise. Come in. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Rahotep has been keeping you very busy. Every time I try to come visit you it seems that he has whisked you off for more training.”
Nehi looks at her for a moment before he finds his words. “Yes, I’m sorry. I would like to have been able to see you more often, but as you said, the life of a priest in training is a busy one.” Nehi nods his head at the sleeping baby. “Have you given him a name yet? I know all of Egypt is eager to know what it is.”
Please say no. Then I can go, and you’ll stay safe.
“Yes, just a few moments ago. Would you like to know what it is?”
“Actually, I’m looking forward to the surprise this evening at his naming ceremony.”
Aniya waits a moment, but Nehi says nothing more. The distance that has grown between them over the past year is not easily bridged. Aniya smiles and remarks on a basket of fruit in his arms. “What is this for?”
“A gift for you,” he says, placing the basket on a table. “From an admirer.” His entire body is vibrating with the effort of fighting against himself.
“An admirer? I wonder who that could be.” She lays the sleeping babe down in a cradle.
“All of Egypt has come to admire you, Aniya. Especially now that you have given Egypt an heir. Here, would you like to try this?” Nehi asks, holding up a particularly colorful piece of fruit.
“What is it?”
“I’m told it’s called an apple and is very delicious.”
“Hmm...it looks strange, but I’ll give it a try. Would you like to try some, too? I can cut it in half.”
Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3) Page 7
