Sphinx's Queen

“Liar! After all you’ve made him suffer, why would Thutmose give you his most precious—”

 

“Thutmose didn’t give me this cat,” I said. It was all I wanted to say. Even though she had reviled me, I felt a lingering pity for my aunt. She had built her life on the goal of seeing Thutmose become the next pharaoh. If I told her the full truth about why I now had Ta-Miu, it would devastate her.

 

Aunt Tiye was a smart woman. She didn’t need me to tell her anything more. I saw the blood leave her face. “Pharaoh.” I could only nod.

 

I expected her to tremble, to weep, to wring her hands. She knew what this gift meant: If Pharaoh could take away his eldest son’s dearest companion, his heart had turned cold to him. Thutmose had angered his father beyond words, beyond hope of reconciliation.

 

Again, I underestimated her. This hard-eyed, determined woman from a commoner’s household had used her beauty, charm, and intelligence to rise from the ranks of all of Pharaoh’s women—the highborn, the beauties, the daughters of foreign kings—to become the Great Royal Wife of the mightiest man in the Two Lands. Her small hands had held power that the most nobly born men in Pharaoh’s court only dreamed of. She would not let it go without a fight.

 

“So, my husband favors you.” Her eyes glittered as she gazed at me. “Of course he does. I knew he would from the first moment I saw what a beauty you’d become. Before your trial, he told me how much he hoped that the goddess would declare your innocence. I’ve even heard my own servants whispering that he’s so pleased with the verdict that he ordered a thanksgiving offering for her temple. One of his best sculptors will make an image of the goddess to be covered in gold leaf and sent to her shrine accompanied by a train of slaves bearing chests filled with treasures.” She glared so angrily at the women who attended her that their lamps’ flames shivered like their own reflections in a troubled pool.

 

“I am grateful for Pharaoh’s kindness—” I began.

 

“Be quiet. Let me think.” She pressed her fingertips together and closed her eyes.

 

“Mother?” Amenophis tried to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away from him.

 

Her eyes snapped open. “I said let me think! I’m doing this for you, too, Amenophis. I only wish you were smart enough to appreciate it.” She scowled at him. “But you’re not, are you? No, you proved that when you got yourself mixed up with this girl, running away with her, pouring her lies into your father’s ears. Why? Did you envy your brother because he was going to have a beautiful wife? If that’s what you wanted, you could have come to me. I would have found you someone. Even someone pretty. What sane man wouldn’t give his daughter to the brother of our next pharaoh? You could have lived out your days at ease in your brother’s court, your every desire fulfilled. Instead, you hated him, you undermined him, and you won’t be happy until you’ve ruined him!”

 

O gods, I thought. If this is how she sees Amenophis now, what will she say if she knew what he did in the Palace of Ma’at this morning?

 

“Mother, you’re wrong,” Amenophis said in his steady, quiet voice. “I don’t hate my brother. He’s the one who thinks I’m his enemy. I love him, in spite of all that he’s done—”

 

She slapped his face. “He’s done nothing wrong. Nothing!” The sea of little oil flames around us trembled anew at her shrill cry of denial.

 

Amenophis took a deep breath and continued. “I love my brother. It would make my spirit fly on falcon’s wings if I could see him contented, healthy, free, and back in our father’s favor.”

 

“Would it?” A small, disturbing smile uncoiled itself across Aunt Tiye’s mouth. “Then I am going to make you very happy, my son.” She leveled one finger at me again. “Your name is cleared, Nefertiti. You are free to come and go anywhere you like in the royal palace and in the city of Thebes. Come to my rooms, when you can. You’re my dear niece, after all, and I haven’t seen as much of you as I’d like. We must get to know one another better, dear child.”

 

“Yes, Aunt Tiye,” I said cautiously. What is she up to?

 

“Good. I look forward to our conversations. Come tomorrow. I will expect you to share breakfast with me.”

 

This was no invitation but an out-and-out command. I bowed my head, consenting. There was no sense in rebelling against her demands just for the sake of rebellion. I had the feeling that Aunt Tiye would give me enough cause to stand against her soon enough.

 

I was right. I wished I’d been wrong.

 

“May I come, too, Mother?” Amenophis asked. “I think that you and I need to speak about why I acted as I did, helping Nefertiti escape from the palace.”

 

“Oh, that.” She waved his words away. “I don’t care to hear your excuses and explanations, and you’ve made it clear that you don’t care about me at all.”

 

“Mother, you know you’re wrong.”

 

Amenophis, that is the worst thing you can possibly say to her, I thought. Aunt Tiye lives in a world where she is never wrong.

 

“Is that so?” She wore a tiny, brittle smile. “Do you care about me, my son? Do you still have room in your heart for the woman who gave birth to you, raised you, wanted only what was best for you, or is it filled with nothing but my niece’s image?”

 

“I do love Nefertiti, Mother. The gods would punish me for lying if I denied that. But I love you, too.”

 

“Ah, love. You love her, you love me, you love your brother, and I presume you love your royal father as well. Is there any end to all the love you claim to feel, Amenophis?” She was taunting him openly, but he ignored her sarcasm.

 

“I hope not.”