Tiy and the Prince of Egypt

by Dee, Debbie

“I will.” Amenhotep said as he leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “I always will.”

  Chapter 22. Unheard Question

  Tiy fell back onto the grassy banks of the Nile and gazed into the swaying palms. Her mind swirled with memories of Amenhotep’s coronation two seasons before. He had made good on his promise, making time for her when she wasn’t in class or when he wasn’t in Nubia trying to prevent a war. Her third school year had begun and, given that she would turn fifteen soon, she knew it would be her last. She hated thinking about the day she would have to return to Akhmim.

  Tiy sighed and kicked at the water, her feet slapping against the surface like angry paddles. Why couldn’t she think of a good enough excuse for following Amenhotep to Thebes? An easy laughter filled the air behind her, startling her.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Amenhotep said. He seemed nervous, his hands running through his hair as he avoided looking at her. He thrust a basket into her hands. “I brought you some pomegranates.”

  “Thank you. What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “You’re behaving strangely.”

  “I am?”

  Tiy nodded and patted the ground next to her. “Talk to me.”

  Amenhotep eyed the ground next to her and then sat on a large, flat rock further from the river. He tapped his feet, his knee bouncing up and down. A curious silence crept in as his dark eyes examined her. She had a strange feeling that he was searching her soul for an answer, but for what sort of answer, she couldn’t fathom. Nor could she guess the question. He searched for what seemed an eternity before she flushed and looked away.

  “What is it, Amenhotep?” she asked.

  He sighed and stood, running his hand through his hair again. Tiy took a bite of a pomegranate and offered one to him. He declined and began pacing back and forth across their quiet haven.

  “Just tell me.” Tiy said.

  He stopped in front of her and caught her eyes with a piercing gaze. She was the one who had asked a question and yet, once again, she couldn’t help but feel he was the one looking for an answer.

  “The resistance has grown in Nubia,” he said.

  “It has? What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t expect it to be too worrisome for some time. For now, it’ll just cause some trouble for the Nubian viceroy and priests.”

  “I feel sorry for them.”

  Amenhotep’s eyes cleared as if he had just woken from a dream, or had just remembered she was still with him. “Who do you feel sorry for?”

  “For the Nubian viceroy and priests. You said it’ll cause more trouble for them.”

  Amenhotep nodded, his eyes clouding over with a faraway distraction. “Speaking of priests….” He said after a while. He studied the ground near his feet.

  “What about the priests?”

  He cleared his throat. “The High Priest of Amun is afraid I’m angering the gods because I have not yet wed. He tells me Amun is not pleased, that the god’s favor might transfer to the Nubians.”

  “You are King over all of Egypt, including Nubia! You’ll marry when you want to.”

  “That is what I said. At first.”

  “At first?”

  “I don’t want to anger the gods.” He shrugged in a way a man would who believed he had no other options.

  Tiy frowned. No one should be forced into marriage, especially a king. No, especially Amenhotep. King, or not, she didn’t want to watch him make another change in his life before he was ready. Becoming Pharaoh had nearly torn them apart, what would becoming a husband do?

  Amenhotep turned his attention to the rippling water and sighed as a cool breeze blew off the water, ruffling his hair. “I can’t let the Nubian rebellion escalate any more than it already has. It is my responsibility to keep Egypt safe.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to bring order to Egypt. By ruling alone, I have brought chaos into the royal palace. My father would be appalled.”

  Tiy took another bite of her pomegranate. She couldn’t imagine Amenhotep getting married, let alone to whom. Who would be a good match for him? He needed someone kind and supportive, someone who would care for him and protect him. She held back a giggle. Amenhotep was always getting into trouble in some way or another. What he needed was a female version of Ramose.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that Amenhotep had started talking again, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen. Her mind kept whirling with images of girls who could possibly be the next Queen of Egypt. None of them seemed good enough for him.

  Tiy focused her attention back to Amenhotep who had just finished talking. He looked at her expectantly.

  “What?” Tiy asked as if she had just missed the last word. She really should have been paying better attention.

  “Have you heard anything I said?”

  “Of course I have.” Tiy ran their conversation through her head. He talked about the Nubians and a little about the priests, the Amun priests in particular. He told her that he agreed with them and that he intended to marry. That was when her mind wandered to who she thought might partner him well, and when she decided no one was good enough for him.

  “Well?” he asked. He was searching her eyes again, his own burning with a question she had no idea how to answer.

  “Well, what?” she asked.

  Amenhotep laughed and shuffled his feet. “Will you be my wife, Tiy?”

  Chapter 23. Royal Blood

  Tiy’s body stiffened. Every muscle and bone in her body felt like stone—frozen, unable to think, act, or move. The only movement she felt was a chunk of pomegranate sliding down her throat. It went the wrong way and she choked on the slimy mass of fruit. Her hand reached up to her chest as she tried to hack the thing out of her throat.

  Amenhotep thrust his hand against her spine with two firm slaps, and the pomegranate shifted, sliding the remainder of the way down her throat. She could breathe again, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Being able to breathe meant being able to talk and she wasn’t sure what to say to Amenhotep.

  He slumped back onto the rock with an elbow on one knee and his hand pressing down on the other. He smiled and laughed a little to himself. “That wasn’t quite the reaction I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That you’d say, yes.”

  If there had been any more pomegranates in her mouth, she would have started choking again.

  “Amenhotep, I…I’m only fourteen!”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “We are almost fifteen, Tiy. Plenty of people have married at our age.”

  Tiy waved a dismissive hand in front of her. Sure, it was common to marry at sixteen or seventeen, but fourteen?

  “I know you don’t feel for me like a wife feels for her husband. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  Tiy couldn’t believe the conversation she was having with Amenhotep, of all people. They raced camels and ran amuck over the whole city together. He was her friend. Her best friend. Her face felt hot, her blood rushing up to color her cheeks.

  “Exactly what would it be like?” she asked

  “Just us. Friends. That’s all.” He took her hand in his with a tenderness and vulnerability he’d never shown before. “You do love me, right?” He looked deep into her eyes and she wondered if he’d finally asked the question that had been burning in his eyes before.

  Tiy sighed and looked away, embarrassed by his probing gaze. “You are my best friend, of course I love you.”

  “You are my best friend too, Tiy. What more reason is there for two people to marry and spend their lives together?”

  Tiy crossed her arms across her chest. Her heart pounded with anxiety. This was ridiculous. Her? A queen? Absurd. She cleared her throat. “Aren’t you supposed to marry someone with royal blood or something? Someone like your cousin or half sister? It’s what your father did and your father’s father. It’
s probably what all the pharaohs have done. Shouldn’t you stay with tradition?”

  Amenhotep pulled a face, his nose scrunching up as if he’d just smelled something foul. “I’m not marrying my cousin. Besides, I don’t care about tradition. When I picture someone at my side I see you.” His face colored, and then he cleared his throat and smiled. “Besides, I checked. You do have royal blood, albeit distantly, but still there. Not that it matters to me.”

  “Me?” Tiy squeaked. “I have royal blood?”

  “Through your mother.”

  Tiy scrambled to her feet and faced Amenhotep. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

  Amenhotep rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course.”

  Tiy shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. How could she come from Egyptian royalty? She didn’t have a speck of desert beauty in her. But, even if Amenhotep was right, and she had real Egyptian blood running through her veins, his proposal was absurd. The entire situation would be too awkward. She couldn’t marry Amenhotep!

  Tiy sunk her feet into the Nile in an effort to cool her nerves. How does one reject a pharaoh? Taking a deep breath, she faced him. Amenhotep’s shoulders fell and for the first time, she hated that he could read her face so easily.

  “Amenhotep—”

  “Please,” he whispered, interrupting her. “I won’t force you, but at least consider that I could make you happy. You’ll never want for anything, I promise.”

  He began pacing again, his hand pulling at his hair with each pass his fingers made through it. “There is so much pressure to get married. Every day Ramose points out potential queens at court. My mother wants me to settle down, or grow up, I don’t know which. The priests tell me I’m in danger, that I need the same protection the goddess Hathor gave to the sun god, the same protection a wife would give me.”

  Tiy chuckled despite the bundle of nerves in her chest. “The priests are right, Amenhotep. With all the danger you seem to find, you could benefit from a protecting influence.”

  “Tiy, you are my protector. Don’t you see? It makes so much sense. You have always managed to get me out of bad situations. And how many times have you saved me from near death? You’re my Desert Guardian.”

  “That’s just a name. It isn’t even real.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Even if it is, it doesn’t mean I can become like the goddess Hathor and protect you all the time. Think about what you are saying. Hathor is the goddess of love and beauty.”

  “You are beautiful, but I’m not asking you to be like Hathor, nor do I want you to become like her. You are a different goddess to me, a different kind of protector. Hathor is what everyone else wants for me, a warrior goddess. But like you pointed out, I’m going against tradition in more ways than one. You are so much more than Hathor. You are my winged protector, my desert goddess of the sky, my black-winged bird.”

  “Are you referring to Nekhbet, goddess of the desert?”

  “None other.”

  Tiy narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s a vulture.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Tiy repeated in surprise, her voice raising an octave. “I don’t eat off the dead!”

  “You are looking at it in the wrong way. Nekhbet is the sky goddess. She is whiter than the rest, which helps her survive the desert, even when others are unable. Not only does she soar high, but she is resourceful and is a protector of other gods.”

  Tiy shrugged and sat back down at the river’s edge. “I guess that’s all right.”

  Amenhotep smirked. “You know that doesn’t matter though, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “You may be my sky goddess, my Desert Guardian, and you may be exactly what Egypt needs. Exactly what I need. But that isn’t why I want you to say yes to me. I want…”

  He held his mouth open as if he didn’t know how to finish.

  “You want a friend at your side,” she said.

  Amenhotep’s shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath. “Exactly.”

  “But is that a reason to marry?” He called her his protector when in actuality, he was hers. He protected her from all the vicious things Kepi and her friends said, keeping her from letting their comments find root in her soul. He always spoke highly of her to others, treated her with respect, and always knew how to lift her up when no one else had even noticed she was down. But was that reason enough to marry him?

  Tiy turned around and shook off her wet feet, determined to argue another angle, make him see how wrong their union would be. But the pain in his eyes squeezed her heart until it stopped cold in her chest. There was something else he wasn’t telling her.

  “Let me think about it.” Tiy said in a whisper. She couldn’t stand seeing him in any kind of pain.

  His eyes shot up to hers. “That is all I can ask, I suppose,” he said. “Should I leave you alone?”

  “No,” Tiy said. She never wanted him to leave her. In fact, she realized that would never change. She bit her lip. How could she be so blind? Her answer to him should have been so simple—the way he had seen it. For reasons neither of them could explain, they needed each other. They belonged with one another.

  “No,” Tiy repeated. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  He strode over to her in a rush and took her hand, his gaze burning again, searching for that elusive answer.

  I’ll answer him, she thought, thinking she finally knew the answer he sought. She licked her lips before looking into his eyes. Even if they were united by appearances only, it wouldn’t matter. They had a deep friendship, better than any imitation marriage, and they would be together for eternity.

  “I’ll marry you,” she said.

  Amenhotep grinned and picked her up, spinning her in the air. “Wonderful!” he shouted into the trees.

  But when he set her down and kissed her check, she noticed the question still in his eye. There was more he wanted to ask but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t.

  Chapter 24. Deceitful Balance

  The wedding day arrived much sooner than Tiy thought possible. The day had come when she would marry a god and become a goddess herself. She would be conferred with the powers of deity, blessed with their strength and wisdom. And yet she felt as insignificant as a field mouse.

  Her mother and Nebetya, along with a flurry of other servants, rushed around Tiy, painting her eyes with thick black kohl and green malachite, adding blue lapis-lazuli beads to her wig and bangles of gold to her wrists and ankles. After they had lathered her with myrrh oil and perfumes from Punt, they pulled her finest linen gown over her body. The servant girls worked with wide smiles as they transformed her into a queen.

  A queen. She couldn’t believe it. Within hours, she and Amenhotep would be united as King and Queen of Egypt, rulers of Upper and Lower Egypt. It was too much to swallow.

  A brawny servant entered her chamber with a large gilded chest on his back. Using the strength of his entire body, he lowered the chest to the ground as if it were a sleeping baby.

  “A gift from His Majesty, Pharaoh Amenhotep, to the Lady Tiy,” he said with pride.

  Nebetya and Tiy’s mother exchanged a look before turning their attention to the chest, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “What do you think it could be?” her mother asked. She sounded out of breath.

  “The gift could be the chest itself,” Tiy reasoned. “I have never seen a chest adorned with so many gems.” She caressed the emeralds and rubies, running a hand across the silver clasp. The metal had been formed into the shape of a bird, its wings tipped in black. “It is a generous gift on its own.”

  “Just open it,” her mother exclaimed with unbridled anticipation. She leaned onto her toes, her head bobbing up and down.

  Tiy wished she could tell her mother that the gift wasn’t a token of Amenhotep’s love—not because she wished to unburden the lie onto her mother, but because she wanted her to stop breathing like a woman about to give birth. Tiy didn’t think ano
ther woman ever existed who showed more enthusiasm for her daughter’s wedding, and she wondered if perhaps her mother never believed her capable of catching a husband, let alone a pharaoh.

  But it was all a lie. If her mother knew their marriage was a deep friendship and nothing more, she would be devastated, her hopes for grandchildren shattered. Tiy knew the gift was another way for Amenhotep to authenticate their actions, to give Egypt no doubt of their love for each other. Tiy knew that, but no one else ever would.

  Tiy leaned forward to lift the clasp and her heart flipped in her chest. What if there was something else inside? What would that mean? Nothing. It wouldn’t mean anything at all.

  She opened the chest, expecting to see the flash of a gilded bottom, but was surprised to see a shimmer of delicate feathers. She grasped the soft white mound and pulled up until it cascaded into an exquisite gown.

  The room fell into a hush. Pure white feathers the length of her arm folded into one another, turning to black at the tips. Flecks of gold gave the gown an ethereal glow as each speck reflected what little light there was in the room. She wondered what effect the gold would have in the light of the sun. And she wondered why Amenhotep had given her such an exquisite gift.

  It was clear he had put a lot of thought into the gown, that it hadn’t been something one of his servants had chosen. The feathers spoke of Nekhbet, goddess of the desert, the gold whispering of Ra, the sun god. They were woven together, inseparable, the feathers protecting the gold, the gold enhancing the beauty of the feathers. Her body tingled.

  Nebetya assisted her into the gown, and Tiy shivered as it slipped over her skin like creamy milk. It was as if it belonged on her body alone and no other. Two long vulture wings of purest white enfolded her hips and thighs, their black tips meeting below her ankles. She was like the black-winged bird he spoke of. A belt of lapis-lazuli and gold wrapped around her waist, enhancing the natural curves of her body. Soft feathers caressed her chest and shoulders as they wove into one another to cover her small frame.