I lowered my eyes and toyed with the fig’s stubby stem. There was a tiny tear in the skin of the fruit, and its sticky, opaque juice oozed onto the tip of my thumb. I quickly licked it off. “I have no desire to be a queen.” I’d had enough of being a leader in my own time as the Meswett, the prophesied savior of our people in the future, and I had no interest in taking on such a role here and now.
When I raised my eyes to Heru’s face, his liquid amber gaze was dark and intense. “Perhaps you should not have become the Great Father’s wife if you were not interested in all that the role entailed,” he said, a slight edge to his words.
I clenched my jaw and tried to hold in my instinctive reaction, but arguing with this man was part of who I was. You had to grow used to standing up for yourself when your significant other was a five-thousand-plus-year-old “god” of time. Despite the effort, I was on my feet within seconds.
“That is not fair,” I said, taking a step closer to Heru and pointing my finger at his chest. “I had no choice. You do not know—”
Black spots spread across my vision, working their way in from the outer edges, and the blood rushing to my head roared in time with my heartbeat, growing as loud as a raging river. “Whoa . . .” The fig dropped from my loose grasp, and I could feel myself swaying, though I couldn’t seem to stop the unwanted motion.
Heru grabbed my elbow to steady me, his grip sure and strong. “What is wrong, Hat-hur?” He stepped closer, lifting his hand. “Are you unwell?” He touched the crook of his index finger to my chin and tilted my face upward. The dizziness was fading, but I was suddenly weak in the knees for a reason that had nothing to do with my current affliction.
I was so close to him, to the smooth skin of his sculpted torso. As I looked into his golden eyes, as I watched his pupils slowly dilate, I could practically feel my body greedily soaking up every ounce of naturally produced bonding pheromone within him.
“Alexandra?” Set said, my name—my true name—heavily laden with concern. He touched my shoulder. “Does this have something to do with what Nuin told Aset and me?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Heru blinked, seeming to wake from a somewhat dazed state, and I wondered if he was soaking up my bonding pheromones, too. A horrifying thought began to erode the edges of my temporary bliss. If we bond in this time, and I leave . . . he’ll die. That could never happen.
Shaking his head, Heru blinked several times in rapid succession. His focus shifted so he was looking over my shoulder. “Who is Alexandra? And what are you talking about, cousin?”
I sighed, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing it had to. Sure, I literally had to be around Heru to keep myself alive, but there was no way I could allow any form of physical intimacy between us—not if such a brief touch could trigger the initial stage of bonding on his part.
“It is what she is called, where she comes from,” Set said. “Now take hold of her. We must bring her to Grandfather.”
My entire body tensed as Heru’s arms started to slip around me. “No,” I told him. “There is no need.” I pushed against him weakly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Heru said. “You are barely staying upright.”
I pushed against his chest harder. “I am fine. Let me go!”
“As you wish,” Heru said, releasing me as I shoved one final time.
I stumbled back several steps, and when the backs of my legs hit the inset bench, I plopped onto my butt and the back of my head smacked against the wall. “Ow,” I grumbled, rubbing the tender spot at the base of my skull. The plaster covering the mud-bricks hadn’t done much to cushion the impact.
When I glared up at Heru, I found him standing where he’d been, arms crossed and a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. His expression, however, was completely bland.
Straightening my back, I stood. “I thank you for your help, but as you can see, I am fine, now. I should return to my”—I swallowed roughly—“my husband.” Which is supposed to be you, I thought as my eyes lingered on Heru.
He nodded, showing no signs of making any further move to help me. I met Set’s eyes, and he offered a conciliatory smile and a shrug.
I was only a few yards past them when I heard the sound of their footsteps behind me. I stopped immediately and turned around.
Heru and Set halted as well, only a few feet in my wake.
I narrowed my eyes but said nothing as I spun back around and continued on my way. Until my hand brushed against Heru’s in a backswing. Again, I stopped and faced them. Both men were inches from running into me. Set took a step backward, but neither Heru nor I did.
Pursing my lips, I tilted my head back to look up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Following you,” he said with an innocent smile.
I glanced at Set, but again, all he did was shrug. I returned my focus to Heru. “Why?”
“To make sure that if you collapse again, someone will be there to catch you.” There was a challenging glint in his eyes.
“I didn’t collapse.”
“Because I caught you.”
I took a deep breath, then another. “You—” I snapped my mouth shut and shook my head, suppressing a weak laugh. “Whatever floats your boat,” I said in English. Turning on my heel, I headed around the corner and into the hallway leading to Nuin’s private rooms, voicing no further complaint as the men shadowed me.
A few seconds later, Set laughed. “Whatever floats your boat,” he repeated. When I glanced over my shoulder and caught his eye, he added, “This language has amusing sayings.”
I raised one shoulder, part of me expecting Heru to comment on Set’s use of my unfamiliar, foreign language. I knew he’d heard me speak it with Nuin, but he had to be wondering how Set knew it as well, especially considering that Set, Nuin, and I were the only people in the world who knew English. Heru, however, remained silent until we reached Nuin’s sitting room. Only then did he speak.
He strode across the room to where Nuin was seated in what seemed to be his favorite chair against the far wall, on one side of the senet table, albeit it wasn’t like he had a lot of seating options. The only other chair was the one opposite his across the table. There was also a very uncomfortable-looking wooden settee placed against an adjacent wall, but that was about it.
“Those meetings you and Set have been having; they have been about her”—Heru pointed haphazardly in my direction—“haven’t they?” He sounded neither accusatory nor angry, simply matter of fact.
Nuin rubbed his face, almost looking exhausted, and I wondered if he’d been waiting for this confrontation. After the expectant silence had grown to an uncomfortable level, he nodded.
“You taught him that guttural language—no doubt confided in him about her—for what reason?” Heru asked. “Is he replacing me as your Blade?” I didn’t know what it meant exactly, but “Blade” was clearly a title.
“For a short time, yes,” Nuin said, absolutely calm.
“Why?”
“Set is replacing you as my Blade because I trust none more than I trust you,” Nuin told him.
“That makes no sense,” Heru said.
“Ah . . . but it does when you consider that I shall be entrusting you with the life of my beloved.”
Heru shot a wary glance my way. “You mean Hat-hur?”
“You may call her Alexandra . . . or Lex. She prefers those names.”
“Then why did you introduce her to everyone differently?”
Nuin stood, and even drained of most of his sheut, he still outshone Heru, both in his sheer presence and in the amount of power emanating from him. “My decisions are my decisions, and they are final. Think carefully, Grandson, before you question them.”
Heru’s head bowed, but Nuin’s words didn’t cow him for long. His neck straightened, and he held his head high. “She is unwell.”
Again, Nuin nodded. “She is.”
“How is that possible?” It was an honest question. As a Nejerette, I should h
ave been all but indestructible, outside of violent physical harm.
Nuin patted Heru’s shoulder, the picture of honesty and friendship. “You must trust me in this—she needs fresh air, exercise, and companionship to maintain her health.”
“That seems wise . . .”
“And I am entrusting you with the task of keeping her healthy.” Nuin paced away from Heru, rubbing his chin ponderously.
“I am right here, by the way,” I said with a weak wave. “No need to talk about me like I am not.” Set was the only one to look my way.
“So . . . what? You are making me her nursemaid?” Heru said.
Nuin paused, then pivoted to face Heru, his posture tense. “I am making you her Blade.”
Heru’s hands balled into fists. “For how long?”
“For the rest of today, and then we shall see.”
“Is this a punishment?”
My heart sank at hearing Heru’s words.
Nuin shook his head slowly. “Punishment? Are you so eager to insult my lovely wife?”
Heru’s head swiveled in my direction, and when his eyes met mine, I caught a flicker of shame.
I swept my gaze back to Nuin in time to catch his wink.
“No,” Heru said, almost pleadingly. “It is just . . . I would like to know what I must do to regain my former position.”
Nuin expelled a puff of breath. “Exactly the opposite of what you are doing right now. Be her Blade.” He glanced my way and smiled. “Look out for her. Protect her.” Something he saw on my face altered his expression, and his gaze sharpened, becoming hawkish. He shifted his glare to Heru. “Do not leave her side. She is more precious to me than anything else on this earth.”
Heru bowed his head. “As you say, Great Father. What would you have me do with her for the remainder of the day?” I could barely believe the subservience I was hearing from him. I’d never seen Marcus acquiesce to anyone, but then, Nuin didn’t exist in my time.
“We are leaving in the morning. I am entrusting you in making sure that she has everything she needs for the journey.”
Heru inhaled and opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever he’d been about to say and breathed out heavily. “Gather your things,” he said as he brushed past me. “I will be waiting in the courtyard.”
I watched him stride toward the curtained doorway. “What ‘things’?” I muttered under my breath, fairly certain I owned nothing but the clothes on my back, and even my dress was borrowed.
But as it turned out, I did have “things.” Nuin retreated into the bedroom for the briefest moment, then returned, carrying a flat wooden container about the size a small jewelry box. It was crafted from some dark reddish-brown wood and inlayed with another wood almost as pale as ivory in a simple geometric pattern. Two bulbous knobs no larger than the tip of my pinkie protruded from one of the longer sides, directly opposite each other on either side of the box’s seam. A thin leather cord twined between and around the knobs in a tight figure eight, ensuring the box stayed shut. Something within rattled as I accepted the small container.
I raised my eyebrows. “What’s this?”
“The remainder of the turquoise beads that formerly made up your dress”—Nuin looked down at the turquoise, quartz, and silver belt around my waist—“other than those you are wearing, of course.” He laughed suddenly. “What is it they say in your time . . . you are an independently wealthy woman.”
I accepted the box, shaking it gently. “Thank you for this, Nuin. Really.” I smiled wryly. “And that term comes from a slightly earlier time than mine.”
Nuin waved his hand dismissively. “Go, my Alexandra. Have fun. The time in Heru’s presence will do you good. You will feel much better when you return.”
I let out a soft laugh. I already felt better after the brief contact with Heru in the courtyard. It was impossible not to imagine actually being with him again. I opened my mouth, then hesitated.
Nuin tilted my face up with a finger under my chin. “What is it?”
I cleared my throat. “Is there, um, any way for something to happen between us—Heru and me—without risking bonding on his part?”
“There is not,” Nuin said, and my heart sank.
“I see.” Looking down at the box, I started to turn away.
Nuin grabbed my arm just above the elbow. “However, there is a way to place a sort of block once a bond is established, much like a memory block.”
My mouth fell open. “But—but . . . why did you not just do that for me?” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with Heru—the opposite was true—but not having to worry about feeding the bond would give me more time to focus on learning to control my borrowed power so I could return to my Heru, who I wanted to see even more than his ancient counterpart.
Nuin was shaking his head. “I no longer contain the power to do such a thing.”
“But I do?”
“No,” he said, again shaking his head. “Even with my sheut, you cannot create such a block within yourself.”
My shoulders sagged as I grumbled internally about why he’d even brought it up.
“Now, dear Alexandra, go find Heru and enjoy your day of shopping.”
I perked up a bit, and not because of the word “shopping,” but because I was about to experience what it was like to trade and barter in an Old Kingdom marketplace. It was an archaeologist’s dream.
“And be careful,” he added.
I eyed him.
“I meant what I said to Heru, dear Alexandra. His new position as your Blade is far more significant than being my right hand. The moment you arrived in this time, you became the single most important person alive.”
14
Lovers & Wives
When I entered the courtyard, a small crowd of young men were milling around Heru near the gate, their skin tones varying from Heru’s golden tan to the darker brown of my gardener friend. Each was lean and fit, obviously well fed, and dressed similarly to Heru in above-the-knee, white linen kilts. And every eye watched my approach.
Self-conscious, I tucked my hair behind my ear and offered the group a hesitant smile as I neared, stopping a few feet from Heru. “What are they here for?” I asked, sweeping my gaze around the crowd of young men. They were quiet, watching us both.
“They are our porters for the day,” Heru told me.
My eyes widened—there were so many of them.
Heru tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, studying me. “Or did you think you and I would lug back all of the merchandise ourselves?”
“I, um . . .” My neck and cheeks flushed, but I kept my gaze steady on him. It wasn’t difficult; Heru’s eyes had always captivated me, and they weren’t disappointing at the moment. “I suppose I did not give the matter much thought.”
“Evidently.”
I fought the urge to grind my teeth. I wanted to shout at him that I wasn’t really an idiot, that I was only acting like one because in my time everything was done differently. But I couldn’t; I’d barely known this version of Heru for a day. I took a slow, calming deep breath. “I was not aware that so many young men were employed in this house.”
Heru broke eye contact, doing a visual assessment of the group. “They are not, but I tasked a few of our own to find a few more who were willing to help out this afternoon, and now we have attained more than enough helpers.” He hesitated, his attention returning to me. The path his eyes trailed over my face was almost palpable, tracing my nose, my cheekbones, my jaw, and my lips before returning to my eyes. “It would seem that word of Nuin’s queen has spread.”
I ran my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing the soft linen skirt unnecessarily. “What do you mean by that?”
Heru shook his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” He gripped my elbow and guided me through the gate, releasing me as soon as we were walking along the street’s slightly uneven paving stones. Unlike the previous day, when the roads had been all but empty, there we
re now people everywhere—rushing around or pausing in front of tall mud-brick walls to chat. There was even a pair of men repairing a portion of a villa wall that had collapsed.
We headed in the opposite direction of the canal docks. Heru’s strides were long and nothing close to leisurely, and the pace wasn’t overly conducive to casual conversation.
“Are we walking the whole way?” I asked.
Heru glanced at me like I was dim-witted.
“Instead of taking a canal boat . . . ?”
“Yes.”
“Is it very far?”
“Not too far.”
“How long will it take?”
“A quarter of an hour,” he said, his words clipped. Lucky for me, the ancient Egyptian’s divided their day into twenty-four hours much like the people from my time—twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night. A quarter of an hour was a period of time that had genuine meaning to me. Finally, something was familiar.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. Our small parade of porters chattered away behind us, but the silence between Heru and me thickened until it was almost choking. Unable to stand it any longer, I blurted, “Listen, Heru . . . I feel awful about you losing your usual position as Nuin’s Blade. I completely understand if you blame me for—”
“Did you ask Nuin to order me to be your companion while you traded at the markets?”
“I—no, I did not.”
“Then I have no reason to blame you.”
I took a few breaths, willing myself to hold my tongue. I failed. “But you do blame me. You will barely even look at me, let alone speak with me. You must think—”
“I do not.”
I curled my fingers into fists and growled in frustration. “Why are you always so—”
“You speak as if you know me,” Heru said. “You do not.” His words were as effective as a slap.
I stopped walking and stared at him as he continued on. The porters stopped as well, fanning out behind me. It only took Heru a few seconds to catch on, but he was already a dozen feet ahead. He slowed, stopped, and turned.
Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2) Page 12
