“I wrote letters home. They never got there. Or if they did, someone made sure I never saw the replies. When I sent a letter to Amenophis’s door today, the girl carrying it was told lies and given a smack for her troubles. I’m sure we can thank Aunt Tiye for that, too. What makes you think she’d allow any of my letters to reach Amenophis?”
“Because they won’t be your letters,” Sitamun said. “They’ll be mine.”
“Oh. Then I guess I’ll have to be even more careful about what I say when I write them.” I blushed, and she laughed at me.
It seemed like a good plan, or at least the best one we could devise until Sitamun or I came up with a better one. As she had promised, she sent me a new scribe’s palette and a box of pens and brushes, along with a generous supply of papyrus. I spent a lot of time composing my first letter to Amenophis, doing all I could to make it seem as though the words came from his sister, not from the girl who loved him as dearly as breath.
It was a challenge—a very time-consuming, irritating challenge. What good was it for me to have the freedom to go anywhere in the palace or the city when my words were still enslaved? And what could I do about it? Aunt Tiye had robbed me of my most precious treasure, the gift of choice, the gift that the gods themselves put into our hands when the world and all its possibilities were new.
At least I didn’t have to lose more time over making a perfect copy. Sitamun offered to transform my scribbled sentences with her own pen so that our messenger could swear by Ma’at or any other god that he was delivering “a letter from Princess Sitamun to her royal brother, Prince Amenophis, written by her own hand.”
When the first reply from Amenophis revealed that he knew exactly who had composed “Sitamun’s” letter, we all felt very clever. It amused me to see how readily he fell into the spirit of our plot. Even so, he didn’t break away from the series of errands and assignments Aunt Tiye kept heaping in his lap, although he saw plainly that they were keeping him from being with me. It was good to know that his eyes had been opened, yet I felt some sadness, too.
He sees the truth, and the truth is that his mother isn’t drawing him closer because she loves him as he deserves, but because she wants to use him. Then and there, I promised myself that if we ever were able to break away from Aunt Tiye’s web, I would give him a family where the love was as unconditional as the Aten’s light, favoring no single person over another, embracing all.
The days passed uneventfully for me. My life in the women’s quarters was pleasant but bland. The only change that seemed to touch my existence was that the list of people I missed so badly was growing longer—my family, my friends, and those who had become as dear as family to me. Every morning I woke up hoping to hear that Nava and Henenu had returned from Memphis after successfully buying Mahala’s freedom, but no word came. I had to comfort myself with the thought that they had undertaken a much longer journey than our voyage to Dendera and that once they reached Memphis, they might not be able to make a bargain with Mahala’s owner right away. All I could do was wait and pray. Sometimes I implored Isis for help, but once I found myself looking up into the morning sky, my face to the sun, and asking the One to bring them home.
I’m praying for Nava and Mahala, I thought as the Aten’s light bathed my face and its warmth soothed me. Is it wrong to make that prayer to their god?
There was just one part of the day that filled me with excitement. I lived for the moment when Sitamun’s servant would come to fetch me to her rooms with one excuse after another—I had to see her new wig, she wanted my opinion about which dress to wear that night, or she was blending perfumes and had some to give me. The real reason was always the same: Amenophis’s letter had arrived and it was time for me to write my reply.
One afternoon, while watching me bent over the papyrus, Sitamun said, “How long will you let this go on, Nefertiti? May the gods forgive me for asking such a question, but do you and Amenophis intend to wait until Mother is dead before you live your own lives?”
“We don’t need to wait that long, Sitamun,” I replied, grinning. “Only until she grows tired of pounding at yet another closed door and looks elsewhere for a way to make Pharaoh favor Thutmose again—or if not favor him, at least forgive him.”
“Hmph. Why should she? She pounded at Father’s closed door long enough and it opened. The two of them are like newlyweds these days.”
“Then maybe she can use her renewed influence over Pharaoh to gain what she wants for her elder son.”
“If all she wanted was a reconciliation between those two, she’d have it by now. And from what I hear, she’s also halfway to persuading Father to reconsider Thutmose as his heir. The palace is buzzing with talk of a trial period where they’ll share the duties of ruling the Two Lands.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I said. “I should leave the women’s quarters more often.”
“The news always goes through the women’s quarters, Nefertiti,” Sitamun said, her expression so serious it made her look old. “It just never reaches you. Don’t you see what she’s doing? One by one, she’s cutting the strands that link you to others. For some, she doesn’t need an excuse. Even if they envy her or hate her, no one from the women’s quarters would dare to thwart the Great Royal Wife. If she lets it be known that no one is to give you any important information, your neighbors will fill your days with a flurry of mindless chatter about hair, dresses, and cosmetics, but no useful news.”
“Then it’s lucky for me I have you, Sitamun,” I said. “Now tell me something useful.” I ran my fingers through my tiny braids and teased, “Does this hairstyle look pretty enough with this dress, or do you think it would work better if I put on some more cosmetics?”
She threw a cushion at me.
It wasn’t until later, when I was back in my own rooms, that I recalled Sitamun’s ominous words about Aunt Tiye: “If all she wanted was a reconciliation between those two, she’d have it by now.”