I shook my head. “Not yet,” I said. “Ask anything else but not that. Not yet. He’s still a stranger to me.”
The queen’s smile blinked out. “You have too many scruples for somebody who’s entitled to none. If I say you will marry my boy today—”
“You took an oath before Amun,” I reminded her. “There were witnesses. If you break it, the gods will be angry.”
“I would risk that for my son’s future,” she said. I could tell she meant it.
“What if they didn’t punish you for oath-breaking?” I asked, desperate to turn her thoughts aside from forcing me into that unwanted marriage. “What if they punish him?”
I saw her face grow pale. I’d reached her. “Don’t even say such things! Niece or not, princess or not, you can still be punished for ill-wishing Pharaoh’s son.”
“I wish Thutmose well,” I said. “Just as I wish you and all my kin well. No matter what you think of me, I’m loyal to my family. But I can’t marry Thutmose yet. Please, Aunt Tiye, honor your oath to Amun.”
The sly smile crept back across her lips. “Will you take an oath of your own to prove your words, Nefertiti? Will you swear before Ma’at or Amun or any of the gods that from now on, you will have nothing to do with any of those devious little vipers in the women’s quarters?”
“Why must I—?”
“Or will I need to show you that bad choices yield worse consequences? I promise you, the next time word reaches me that you’ve done more than exchange a nod or a greeting with any of Pharaoh’s women, I will take one of your servants and see to it that she suffers for your selfishness and disloyalty. I hope it won’t take you four lessons to learn that I’m in earnest about this.”
Four—? Berett! I didn’t want my aunt to harm Kepi or the other maids, but the very idea of her taking out her mad spite on Berett made me tremble down to the marrow of my bones.
“You won’t need to teach me anything,” I said, standing tall and holding the queen’s gaze. I refused to let her see how distraught her threats had made me. It would give her a fresh advantage over me. “I swear by Isis, I won’t have anything more to do with your rivals.” And then, because I was so angry at my aunt for how she’d cut me off from any friendships, I added: “I hate to see you so afraid.”
I turned my back on her and left, not even waiting for her messenger to bring back Berett, Kepi, and the others. She knows I care about their fate or she never would have tried to control me through them, but she doesn’t know how much I care, I thought. My words stung her—I saw it—but if she takes it out on them, she’ll be tossing away all of the playing pieces she’s got. Aunt Tiye’s too good a player to do something that brash over such a little barb.
I’d gambled well: Before I’d gone half the length of the hall, I heard a patter of many feet and I was surrounded by my girls.
The days that came after my clash with Aunt Tiye were doubly lonely. Since that dawn-light meeting, my servants did their scant few chores in a state of jangled nerves, even Kepi. She and I used to share funny stories about my life back in Akhmin and her own experiences growing up as the daughter of a wine merchant, but Aunt Tiye’s threats had opened up a canyon of silence and fear between us. It didn’t matter that she and the others had been taken out of the room when the queen and I tangled; there were always ears and eyes and eager lips to carry news of supposed “secrets” through the palace.
I thanked Isis that no such gap had yawned between Berett and me. She’d endured worse ordeals of terror in her short life. My aunt’s attempt to tighten the reins on me by menacing her and the rest was just a passing shadow to Berett. I was glad of that but regretted that the one person in my immediate household who wasn’t afraid to talk to me couldn’t do so.
The situation grew worse. The Mitanni princesses and the other women who’d joined me in that happy dance were taken aback when we crossed paths and I only spoke a word or two to them. Their expressions went from surprised to hurt to resentful, and I heard their whispers behind my back, calling me proud, arrogant, two-faced, high and mighty, cold. Any child of the women’s quarters who took so much as a step in my direction was grabbed away by his or her mother as if I had leprosy. I couldn’t set foot out of my rooms without overhearing cruel jibes. So what if they weren’t true? They still had the power to draw blood.
I tried to take refuge in my friendship with Sitamun. Our morning lessons became my only diversion, but they weren’t enough to chase away the full measure of my loneliness.
“Why do you look so glum lately?” Sitamun asked. “Something’s eating at you. Tell me.”
“It’s nothing.” I wasn’t brave enough to confide in her fully. I was afraid that if I told her about what her mother had done, she’d confront her. Sitamun had a bold heart, but I knew she didn’t have the power to protect Berett and the others if she made her mother mad. “Just some bad dreams,” I replied.
“Lions?” She winked, trying to cheer me with our old joke.
“Lions.” I bent over my work, unsmiling, and focused on the papyrus, the pen, and the words.
Henenu joined us, but he had little to offer me. All of his attention had shifted to teaching Berett how to read and write. It was anyone’s guess how well she could read, since there was no chance of having her do it out loud, but he assured us that she managed to let him know, in her own way, that she understood the symbols he placed before her. As for her writing, her rapid achievements sent the little scribe into gleeful ecstasies.