“Now you sound like your mother,” I said with a sour smile.
“Instead of scorning her, you should thank my mother for your life when she comes home, Nefertiti. It’s because of her that your life is safe until my parents return from Dendera. Last night, after you were arrested and my brother took that crying child away, the talk began about when and how your sentence should be carried out.”
I felt as if I’d swallowed stones from the bottom of the river. “What was decided?” Isis, make me brave!
“To wait.” Thutmose picked up the wreath that I’d set aside and took a deep breath of the roses’ fragrance. “I spoke for you, Nefertiti. I told them all: ‘Make your choices, carry out this sentence, but remember, you’ll have to justify it all on the day Pharaoh returns. You’ll have to tell the queen.’ ”
“The vizier said the same thing before I was sentenced,” I said. “All it did was enrage the chief Amun priest. He trampled on my words. I’m no sorceress, but I know that names hold power. He burned the name of Ma’at, Thutmose. If he doesn’t fear truth, why would he suddenly fear the queen?”
“Because this time, I was the one who counseled caution. I’d pronounced your sentence, so I’d made it clear that I wasn’t speaking out of fear or—or love. I’d proved that I put the honor of the gods and the authority of Pharaoh first.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly; his eyes were sad. “The Amun priests are very pleased when we fear the gods. Fear makes us open our hands wider when we give offerings to the temples. The priests’ wealth and influence make them almost Pharaoh’s equals. They’re cunning enough to know that their best interests lie in working with the ruler of the Black Land, as long as he is also willing to work with them. They make bad enemies.”
“I know,” I said sullenly.
“They were the ones who woke me from a sound sleep with Meketre’s story. I immediately ordered my servants to search everywhere for Ta-Miu, but even when they couldn’t find her, I didn’t believe that boy’s wild tale. Like you, I thought she’d simply gone following the moon. All the same, I couldn’t simply send them away, not with that bloodstained dress in front of my eyes and Meketre’s testimony. It would look like I was turning my back on sacrilege and sorcery just because of how I felt for—” His fingers clenched, tearing away a handful of rose petals. “I had to bring you to judgment. The evidence demanded the sentence I pronounced against you. But because I did all that, the Amun priests trust my integrity. When I said we should fear the consequences of carrying out your sentence before Pharaoh’s return, they listened.”
I took the half-crushed garland from his hands and placed it on my hair. “I hope she comes back,” I said. “I hope Ta-Miu shows that who, me? face of hers before another day goes by.”
“Of course you do,” Thutmose said, taking my hand in his. I didn’t pull it away. “You’d be saved.”
“That’s not the only reason I want her back.” I squeezed his hand. “It’s for your sake. I know how much you love her. I remember how it hurt you when your mother took her away from you. I don’t want you to go through that again.”
“You say such kind things. I think you have that gift because you were raised with kindness.” He sighed deeply. “I wish I could say the same.” His fingertips brushed the flowers, sending a few petals tumbling into my lap. “I’ve ruined this. I’m sorry. I’ll bring you a new garland tomorrow, something beautiful to sweeten your captivity.”
“I’d rather have something else,” I said. “If it’s permitted.”
“Name it and it’s yours. Remember, I speak for Pharaoh.” His face was even more handsome when he smiled.
“I want to send a message home, one that I know will get there. I want to let my family know that I’m all right.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “You have a strange idea of being ‘all right,’ Nefertiti.”
“But I will be once your parents come back; we both know it. And when that happens, I—I’d like it very much if you and I could make a new beginning.”
“I’d like nothing better.” He went to the door of my prison and gave orders. I heard a scurry of retreating feet and, before too long, the sound of them returning. A guardsman came in carrying my heavy stone scribal palette, my pen case and burnisher, and several rolls of papyrus. I welcomed them like long-lost friends and laid out one papyrus sheet right away. Thutmose watched me work diligently, scraping the nubbly surface smooth with the burnisher, and didn’t even try to hide his amusement.
“Such obsession! You are a sorceress: I’ve been turned invisible,” he teased. “Once you’ve got your writing tools in hand, you don’t need anyone’s company, do you?”
I looked up. “I’ll always need my friends.”
“Like my brother,” he said softly, kneeling beside me.
“And Henenu, and Sitamun, and—” I gazed into his eyes and remembered how he’d freed me from the obligation to marry him. I recalled how he’d stood up for me against the priests at my trial. Where he pronounced your death sentence! a fierce voice whispered in my mind. Where he delayed it, too, I replied. Even a stone can soften. I want to give him a chance to show me that he’s changed.
I set aside the scraper and clasped his hand. “And you.”
His fingers closed warmly around mine for an instant before he let go again. “What an honor, to be included in such company. I don’t know how to thank you for this.”