Lynda Robinson - Drinker Of Blood

"But we could lose the empire. Think of what might happen if Suppiluliumas controls all the lands from Mitanni to the frontier. Foreigners once ruled the Two Lands. They could again."

Nefertiti went still as Akhenaten sat up on the couch and glared at her. Obsidian black whirlwinds swirled in his eyes.

"Your words are blasphemy. I am the god of all on this earth. Even the Hittite dares not threaten me. The world is my empire."

Nefertiti made her voice steady in spite of the uneasiness she felt. "Even a god must use men to do his bidding. Aziru and the others are heretics. They worship foreign gods and defy you, the Son of the Sun. They offend Maat; they disturb the order and peace of the cosmos. Please, husband, allow Lord Ay-"

"No!"

"Yes!" Nefertiti jumped to her feet. Beneath her anger lurked the thought that she wasn't being at all diplomatic, but Akhenaten was so blind and stubborn that she wanted to tip his couch over and send him sliding across the floor.

"Then if you won't go, I'll go."

Akhenaten was off the couch before Nefertiti finished. Pharaoh caught her by the wrist. She'd forgotten what strength lay in Akhenaten's hands until they closed around her flesh.

"Do you seek to shame me, wife?"

"No," Nefertiti snapped. "I but seek to wake you." She stared into her husband's black-fire gaze without faltering. The moments went by, stretching out until she thought she would scream. Never had she confronted Akhenaten so openly. She thought of that priest of Amun hanging in that cell, bleeding. Then she started, for Akhenaten was chuckling.

"You're laughing at me!"

"I can't help it," the king said. "First you speak to me like a councillor, and then you almost insult me. I hadn't realized how bored I'd become. My beautiful one always brings excitement." Akhenaten patted her cheek. "Of course you're not going to war."

Rubbing her neck, Nefertiti berated herself for her failure. From talks with Horemheb, she knew the army chafed at being forced to stand by and watch the depredations of the Hittites. It was dangerous to lose the confidence of the military.

Tiye would be disappointed. If Pharaoh Amunhotep's ka was watching, he too would find her lacking. Nefertiti stared at a garland of blue lotus flowers draped along a food table.

"What can I do to take the sadness from your eyes?"

Akhenaten watched her with a gravity that surprised Nefertiti. "I don't know, majesty. I'm so worried about, about-"

"If I make Horemheb a king's deputy and send him north with a few squadrons to investigate, will you be content? Ah! Now you smile at me. The light of the sun is captured in that smile. Very well. You may arrange the whole thing with Ay. Don't bother me with details."

Nefertiti's smile spread into a full grin. "Thank you, husband."

Her grin faltered. Akhenaten leaned toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. The hand slid down her arm and encircled her wrist. Nefertiti looked from the hand to her husband's face. Pharaoh's breathing quickened.

"Husband?"

She said nothing more, for Akhenaten kept silent. As Nefertiti waited for him to speak, Akhenaten ran his hand back up her arm, across her shoulder, to rest at her neck. Akhenaten's thumb traced paths back and forth over the skin at her throat. Lowering her eyes, Nefertiti remained still, waiting for him to send the servants away. He didn't, for something stirred in his gaze, something that resembled a serpent on a blazing rock in the desert.

"Beautiful one, I've heard that you fail to worship the Aten in your palace as you did in the past."

Someone in her household had been telling tales again.

"Forgive me, my husband. I have been so anxious to relieve you of burdensome duties that I've been negligent."

"Better to neglect duties than the Aten."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, no." Akhenaten stepped back from her. "But it disturbs me that you can so easily give up the path of truth. I like not what I hear, Nefertiti."

"What do you hear?"

"That your devotion to the Aten is of the surface only. That you seem sympathetic to those heretics who refuse to give up the old blasphemies. These are evil tidings I had not thought to hear of you, my love."

Nefertiti went to Akhenaten, placed her hand flat on his hollow chest, and looked into his eyes. "These are lies, husband."

"Are they?" he asked in a musing voice.

Lifting her gaze to him, Nefertiti said, "I make my vow in the presence of the one god, the Aten."

Once Akhenaten would have been satisfied with such a response. To her dismay, he didn't smile at her and accept the reassurance. Instead, Akhenaten watched her with judgmental gravity before waving her away.

"Leave me, beautiful one. I–I have to speak with the Aten. There are things I don't understand. I must speak to my father, and I don't want you with me."

Protest would only provoke Akhenaten's temper, so Nefertiti returned to her own apartments. Uneasiness was her companion for the rest of the evening. Akhenaten was no longer so trusting of her as he had been. If she wasn't careful, he would guess how justified he was in his suspicions, and her influence would vanish. She had no choice but to continue on her chosen path. She was the only one who could make Akhenaten listen to reason. At least Horemheb was going north, but unless the army followed him, his mission would have little effect.

Late that night Akhenaten came to her. His attentions had a desperate quality, as if he sought escape from something he feared. As always when they were together, Nefertiti felt more caretaker than lover. There had been lessons from Queen Tiye in this as in all else, and Nefertiti had been a good student. But while they touched each other, she kept remembering that look in his eyes-that serpent writhing on a sun-blasted rock.

Its tortured twisting was an evil sign, one that had begun to appear in Akhenaten more and more frequently. She herself had never been its focus. But today for the first time, with his hand squeezing her wrist to numbness, she realized the serpent could turn on her, strike, and sink its fangs into her heart. If Akhenaten ever lost faith in her, there was no one, not even Ay, who could protect her from the wrath of this man who believed he was the incarnation of the one god in all the world.

Memphis, reign of Tutankhamun

Kysen watched the royal troops leave while he stood beside Bener on the loggia. Their going was ostentatious, but of little consolation to him. Having dealt with criminals and traitors, he knew that the household would still be observed from afar all the hours of the day and night.

As the gate closed on the last guard, Bener nodded. "Good."

"The withdrawal means nothing," Kysen began.

"I'm not a fool." Bener led the way inside to the cool half-darkness of the reception hall and sank into her favorite chair, with its embroidered cushions. "The king's men can watch until they turn to dust. I care not."

"You weren't dragged before pharaoh. You didn't see the king's face."

"None of that matters, Ky. What matters is proving Father innocent."

Kysen gave his sister a skeptical glance before dropping to a cushion on the floor. "And how will we do that when we can't set foot outside the house without being seen?"

"We'll have help."

"From whom?" Kysen growled. "Even Maya dares not visit us, and Horemheb is busy hunting Father. Who will aid us?"

Bener grinned at him and glanced over her shoulder. Someone came through the shadowed doorway that led to the family quarters. Kysen glimpsed a tall figure, hair the color of obsidian. When the newcomer move toward them with a leopard's hunting pace, Kysen caught his breath.

"Father?"

"I thank Amun daily that I'm not your father," Ebana said as he strolled over to them.