“Has there been much unrest? We thought—” I shook my head, rephrasing what I’d been about to say. We thought the downfall of the 6th Dynasty was caused by . . . was hardly an appropriate way to talk to someone who was currently living in the 6th Dynasty. “In my homeland, we heard rumors of rebellions and regional leaders gaining power, but we were unsure how much truth there was to those rumors.”
“You heard correctly.” Heru’s linen cowl flapped as he shook his head. “Had Khessie taken care of this latest Pepi as she was supposed to, this all might have been a little more manageable, but . . .”
“But what? What do you mean ‘taken care of’? He lived until he was in his nineties.” I shrugged. “That seems pretty taken care of to me.”
“She led him on too well, and he loved her too much.” Heru laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “He refused to lay with any of his other wives, and for whatever reason, Khessie manipulated the At, hiding for some seventy years the fact that none of the few children born to his wives had been fathered by him . . . possibly because she fed on his adoration for her. She should have told us of his refusal and sent him on to the next life so a ruler with the will to produce an heir could be appointed. But . . .”
He took a deep breath, exhaling a tired sigh. “She did not, and Pepi spent the last twenty-five years of his life more or less an invalid with Khessie ruling in his stead. And now, not one of the bastard children born to his wives survives.” He shook his head slowly. “I still do not understand why she would do such a thing, risk the people of this land so recklessly . . .” He shook his head. “Nuin was not pleased, as you can imagine, but she is his daughter, and he has long favored her.”
“I think she was afraid,” I said, hoping my words were quiet enough that the woman in question wouldn’t overhear me. I was pretty sure she was somewhere up ahead, but with the desert cowls, everyone looked alike from the back.
Catching my reluctance to speak at a full volume, Heru moved closer and leaned down so his head was nearer to mine. “Please explain what you mean,” he said softly.
I hesitated, unsure how open I could really be with Heru regarding Ankhesenpepi. “She seems like a woman who would do anything for power, and I would bet that losing power is her greatest fear . . . along with the reason she dislikes me so much.”
Heru made a rough noise low in his throat. “That, and her misperception of our relationship.”
Right . . .
“But I think you may be correct,” he said. “She is devious and conniving, and would likely trade anything short of her life to be in your position—the Netjer-At queen. Even as Nuin’s eldest daughter, she has never been considered such.”
I was shaking my head in disbelief, and the words were out before I even knew what I was saying. “If you think so poorly of her, then why do you—” I snapped my mouth shut.
“Why do I . . . ?”
“Nothing.” I stared at the rear end of one of the donkeys up ahead. “Forget I said anything.”
“If that is what you truly desire.”
***
I was standing in a shallow valley of sand, surrounded on all sides by rounded dunes. The sky overhead was red and orange, and I thought this might be what it would be like to stand on the surface of Mars.
Heru and I had both stripped off our desert cowls once the sun set, starting its nightly trip through the underworld, and now stood barefoot in the sand, facing each other. Heru was wearing nothing but his usual linen kilt, and I had on a decidedly thin slip of a dress. The yellows, oranges, and reds bleeding across the sky set Heru’s skin aglow and his golden irises ablaze. He was stunning . . . and more than a little distracting, with all of that skin and muscle and . . .
“Hit me,” Heru said.
“What?” My eyes widened, and I took a step backward. “No.”
Heru exhaled heavily, a sound that could be mistaken for nothing other than annoyance. “Hit me.”
I shook my head. “I will not. I might hurt you . . .” I fully understood that Heru training me to be less of a defenseless wimp would require me to actually practice defending myself against other people—him, for starters—but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually hit him.
Heru laughed, the sound low and velvety. “Trust me, you could not possibly hurt me.”
Taking a step closer, I gave him a chummy punch on the shoulder. It was pathetic. Even more so because it wasn’t like I was incapable of hitting him. I’d done it before, once; I’d slapped him, but I’d been seething with anger. And, damn it, he’d deserved it. He’d abandoned me in a compound filled with Nejerets during the scariest, most confusing time of my life—other than now, which was decidedly scarier and more confusing. But this wasn’t Heru’s fault. I had no desire to hit him.
“You stare harder than you hit,” he said, settling a level gaze on me.
“‘You stare harder than you hit,’” I repeated in a snotty, singsong voice. “I do not want to hurt you.” I held up a hand, stopping him before he could reiterate how impossible it was for me to hurt his mightiness. “Regardless of whether I even could, why would I try if I had no desire to cause you pain?”
Heru studied me, pursing his lips the faintest amount and narrowing his eyes. The protracted moment of silence started to grow uncomfortable, and he crossed his arms. “If I asked Khessie to hit me, she would do it . . . could do it.”
Jealousy and rage flared to life, intense and uncontrollable. I acted on pure instinct. Clenching my jaw, I pulled my arm back and swung. My palm struck the side of his chiseled face with a smack, stinging instantly.
“Ow . . .” I said, shaking out my hand.
Heru was grinning, his eyes shining. “It would seem that you found sufficient motivation to want to hurt me.”
I mirrored him, crossing my arms over my chest, and started digging the toes of one bare foot into the sand. “If I promise to try to beat you senseless, will you promise to never compare me to her again?”
“So . . . I would not be allowed to say that she is shorter than you?”
I smiled, just a little. “Heru . . .”
“Or that her feet are much more masculine than yours?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I relaxed my arms at my sides. “You are making fun of me.”
“Clearly those comparisons are not driving you to fulfill your promise to try to ‘beat me senseless.’” He grinned wickedly. “Until you show me that you intend to fulfill your side of the bargain, I see no need to fulfill mine.” He tilted his head downward, tucking his chin closer to his neck and watching me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “The curve of Khessie’s hips is enough to make a man—”
“Stop, Heru,” I said, my voice low and even.
“—want to take hold of her and—”
“Be quiet!” I shouted, slapping my hands over my ears.
The dangerous glint in his eyes intensified. “Make me.”
I shivered, partially from the rapidly cooling evening air, and partially from the challenge issued by every inch of his body. Glaring, I stepped closer, stopping when I was only inches away from him and had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
He raised one eyebrow. “As intimidating as your very presence is . . .”
Staring into those golden pools, I slammed the heels of my hands into his abdomen. I skittered away as he doubled over, momentarily breathless, then lunged at him, leaping onto his back, wrapping my legs around his middle and hooking my feet together. I snaked my right arm around his neck, squeezing in what I hoped was an effective choke hold—not that I had any clue how such a thing was actually done—and brought my lips to his ear. “How am I doing?”
Apparently not that well, because Heru straightened and peeled my arm away from his neck with little effort. Luckily, my other arm was hooked over his shoulder, my fingers clutching one very well-formed pectoral, so I managed to stay on his back. Besides, I wasn’t going anywhere with the death grip my legs had around his hips. In fact, I only
had to scoot a few inches lower for my heels to dig into his . . .
“You would not dare,” Heru said between heavy breaths, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for making him breathe so hard.
“I would not?” I continued my slow slide down his body.
Heru dropped to his knees, and leaned back until I was sandwiched between him and the hot sand. The weight of him was enough to steal my breath, and I was certain he wasn’t even trying to hurt me. If he had been, he would have slammed me backward into the sand while he’d still been standing rather than slowly lowering us to the ground. No, he just really didn’t want me shoving my heel into his tender man parts.
I unhooked my feet and slapped his chest with both hands. “You . . . win . . .”
Heru rolled off me and crouched on his knees beside me, helping me up to a sitting position while I coughed and gasped for air. He even tugged down the skirt of my shift for me.
“I believe we have come to an agreement,” he said, meeting my eyes. “If you continue to show that much enthusiasm when I am training you to defend yourself, I will refrain from even mentioning her.”
“Deal.” I held out my hand to shake on it. When he didn’t show any sign of extending his own, I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to mine. Gripping his tightly, I shook for both of us.
Heru looked down at our joined hands, then met my eyes, his expression bewildered.
“It is a custom from my land. We shake hands when we have come to an agreement.”
Heru’s smile was slow to come, but it grew to something radiant. He tightened his grip and shook back. “We have an agreement,” he said with a nod. His smile faltered. “How long is this custom supposed to go on?”
I laughed. “Only a few seconds.”
“Ah . . . I see.” He stood, easily pulling me up to stand in front of him. “And now, little queen, I will teach you how to focus your excessive enthusiasm so you may have a chance to hurt me.”
23
Pain & Gain
Aset and I walked arm in arm alongside the caravan of burdened donkeys, Heru, my ever-present sentinel, following several paces behind us. All three of us were bedecked in our linen desert robes and cowls, as was everyone else, making us look like a procession of overheated, sweaty Halloween ghosts.
It was our fourth day on the hot, dry trek through the Sahara toward the Netjer-At Oasis, and I was fairly certain I had sand pretty much everywhere. The ceaseless hours of hand-to-hand defense lessons Heru required every night ensured that, as did the literal hole-in-the-sand latrines.
Aset glanced over her shoulder at her brother, then leaned closer to me. “He is taking this task of watching over you very seriously, is he not?” she whispered. There was a suggestive twinkle in her eyes.
“Trust me, Aset, nothing like that has happened,” I told her just as quietly, keeping my eye on Heru’s expression to gauge whether or not he could hear what we were saying. “And nothing like that can happen . . .”
“I suppose . . .” A wistful sigh escaped from her. “But you are feeling better with the withdrawals, yes?”
I nodded.
She was quiet for a moment. “You could still tell him . . . about the two of you in the future, no? Even if you do not act on your feelings . . .”
“He does not even know that I am from the future. I really do not think—”
Aset tutted me. “You will have to block everyone’s memories of you when you depart anyway . . .”
Everyone’s except yours and Nekure’s, I thought, which she was perfectly aware of.
“. . . so why not at least be honest with him? He will not remember until your time, and you will feel less burdened in this time.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I am afraid.”
“Of . . . ?”
I sighed. “I fear he will think I am insane . . . and that I will drive him away.”
“If you had told him when you first arrived, perhaps, but he knows you now. And he knows that you are a little different . . .” She paused. “I think you should tell him.”
I sighed.
“What does Nuin think?”
Glancing back at Heru, I found his eyes on me. I offered him a quick smile, then leaned closer to Aset. “He agrees . . . or at least, when I first arrived, he agreed that I should not tell Heru, that he found the idea of bonding—of being tied to someone so completely—distasteful, and that telling him we were bond-mates in the future would only make him avoid me. But we have not spoken of it since then. In fact, we have not spoken much at all.” I exhaled in exasperation and shook my head. “Maybe I should tell him, maybe I shouldn’t . . . I just don’t know.”
An almost electric thrill washed over me, and I stumbled. Only my link with Aset’s arm kept me on my feet.
She halted beside me as what felt like a burst of lightning pulsed in my chest, and I doubled over. “Lex?” Aset’s voice sounded panicked. “Lex? Heru!”
But there was no need for her to call to him. He was already there, right behind me, one arm wrapped around my shoulders and crossing my chest, the other clutching my waist. Were it not for him, I would’ve collapsed onto my hands and knees.
“What is it?” Heru said, his breath brushing my cheek. “Is this the same ailment as before?”
I clutched his forearm. “No,” I breathed. This felt nothing like bonding withdrawals; this felt so much worse. I looked at Aset, who was standing in front of me, her awestruck face mere inches from mine.
“Your eyes . . . they are—”
Another burst of electric power exploded from my chest, and the agony reached all the way to my fingertips and toes. Smoky wisps of every shade of red, orange, and yellow pulsed from the exposed skin on my hands. I was betting the same was visible on my face.
“Get . . . Nuin,” I managed to say through gritted teeth.
Aset nodded, her face ashen. She turned and sprinted away, tripping over her robe only once.
I groaned under the sheer force of the next wave of power. My breaths were quick and shallow, and I could hear others around me, some murmuring, some shouting. Rus, bundled in his linen sling, yowled and dug his needlelike claws into my chest. I somehow managed to dig him out from under the layers of linen and hand him off to the nearest person—Denai, I thought.
“Heru,” I gasped, “Get me away from everyone. They cannot see this. They cannot see what I am.” If Apep is riding along inside one of them . . .
Heru didn’t hesitate in scooping me up. Cradling me in his arms, he broke into a run, calling over his shoulder that only Nuin, Set, Nekure, and Aset were allowed to follow, adding in a warning that he would personally eviscerate any others who dared to defy him. He sprinted over a low dune, then around a taller one, skidding several times on the descent but never coming close to dropping me.
When we reached a deep valley between several sand dunes, he fell to his knees, still cradling me. He was looking at my face, into my eyes, when the next wave of power broke free.
His lips parted as he stared at me, wonder altering his every feature. For seconds, or maybe minutes, we stared into each other’s eyes.
“Thank you, Heru, but you have to release her now,” Nuin said, his voice calm and sure.
Heru tightened his hold on me. “No.”
“Alexandra? Can you hear me?”
I could feel the pressure building again, and I whimpered.
“Heru, you must release her and return to the others.”
Heru’s eyes finally left mine, and the look he turned on Nuin was filled with defiance.
“Go,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. It was about to happen again, and this time I was certain it would be way more than a burst of power; this was going to be an explosion, and I feared it would tear apart anything near me. I feared it would tear me apart.
“Go!” I howled, my voice filled with desperation . . . with agony . . . with power. “GO!”
Heru finally heeded my demand, handing me over to Nuin.
<
br /> “Go,” I repeated. “Go . . . go . . . go . . .”
“He is gone, dear Alexandra. It is just the two of us now.” Nuin’s voice was soothing.
He will make it better. He will make me better. I was so sure.
“I’m going to remove the shield, and we will both be surrounded by the outpouring of excess power for a short time, but the sheut will expend itself, and you will be okay again.” He hugged me against him, and I realized I was crying—sobbing. The force of the convulsions wracking my body was making him shake as well.
Unable to respond with words, I nodded.
“Alright, child, just breathe,” Nuin’s voice resonated with power. “Breathe.” I had no choice but to follow his command. He pressed his lips to my forehead, pulling down the block.
And I screamed.
I felt like I’d been lit on fire. The desert and clear blue afternoon sky disappeared, and in their stead, our own private aurora borealis burst into life, countless rainbow tendrils snaking around us. They were alive. They were feeding off me, consuming me.
Again, I screamed, and it was the sound of a soul dying.
With a whoosh, the colors retracted, imploding until they once again fit snugly inside me.
“Breathe, my Alexandra,” Nuin told me, a hint of strain marbling his calm tone. “Breathe.”
I sucked in a breath of air.
“Good. Again, breathe. Good girl.”
“What . . . the hell . . . was that?” I asked between gasping breaths.
“That,” Nuin said, raising his eyebrows, “was entirely my fault.”
I closed my eyes and focused on taking long, steady breaths. “Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s time for us to start your training in earnest.”
24
Oathbound & Awestruck
Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2) Page 19
