I did try to make things better for myself. Since I was cut off from my old friends and those I cared about, I decided I’d create new ties where I could. It was all a dismal failure. Whenever I tried to strike up a new friendship, I was met with pleasant conversation, smiling faces, and polite discouragement. If I invited someone to my rooms for a meal, she always had another place she absolutely had to be. If I offered to entertain a woman’s children, she insisted that they never got along with anyone except her and their regular nursemaid. If I overheard one of the ladies complaining because she’d misplaced a particular pot of perfume or jar of paint for her eyes and I volunteered to let her have some of mine, suddenly she’d remember exactly where she’d left the missing item.
I became very used to hearing “Thank you so much, Nefertiti. You’re so nice, but this just won’t work out now. Another time, yes? I’m so glad you understand!”
Oh, I understood. I so-so-so definitely understood. Aunt Tiye’s hand was in this somehow. Her rivals in Pharaoh’s household might hate and envy her, but they were also wise enough to fear her. She had found a way to let it be known that I was not to be befriended unless the person fool enough to do so wanted to feel the wrath of the Great Royal Wife.
No one did. There were times I saw a look of commiseration in the faces of some of the palace women, especially those who weren’t that much older than I, but that was all they dared to do. Many of them had children to protect from the never-ending intrigues of palace life. Could I blame them for lacking enough courage to open their hearts to me? I was no one. Aunt Tiye ruled their world from the shadows.
I began to spend more and more time in my own rooms, playing listlessly with Ta-Miu. Each morning I would eat breakfast, give my maids a few small chores to do, then dismiss them until it was time to bring me my dinner. I gave them so much free time that they must have thought they’d tumbled into some sort of wonderful dream.
I soon found myself falling into an odd routine, sleeping more and more during the daylight hours and straying from my rooms only after sunset. Ta-Miu decided that this was a great improvement and trotted along with me everywhere. Sometimes I took my scribe’s kit with me. It may sound strange to say this, but there were many times that I’d see something in the abandoned halls or gardens or great rooms of the palace that would touch my spirit in a way that begged to be put into words. Without the turmoil of Pharaoh’s followers, servants, and attendants distracting me, I could see that the walls held ghosts. Who had walked in my steps over these stones a hundred years ago? Who would walk here when the sacred river’s waters had risen and fallen a hundred times more? There was no way for me to know their names or their fates, but I could let my mind weave tales about who they might have been and let my pen write them down.
One night I took a route that was unfamiliar to me and couldn’t find my path back to the women’s quarters. I blundered through the halls, hoping to come across one of the night guards, but I seemed to have wandered into a part of the palace that wasn’t worth patrolling. My confusion was made worse by the fact that even though these halls were deserted, they were as well lit as if Pharaoh himself would come striding through them at any moment.
Ta-Miu’s ears perked up at the scuffling sound of mice going about their business, though we never saw a single one. I dropped to one knee and petted her. “If you were a hunting hound, I could ask you to find us a scent trail to lead us out of here,” I joked.
“Mrow!” Ta-Miu replied with so much resentment that she must have understood me. She switched her tail peevishly, jerked her sleek head out from under my hand, and walked away.
“I didn’t mean to insult you, O daughter of Bast,” I said, following her. “Now what am I going to have to do in order to earn your forgiveness? A fish? Two? Some roast duck? A new cushion? That would be a waste: You always sleep at the foot of my bed. How about—”
Ta-Miu made a sudden bound through a narrow doorway. I gave a small cry of surprise and leaped after her.
Soft starlight soothed my eyes. The crescent moon above gleamed like the graceful horns that crowned Hathor in her beauty. I smelled rich earth, fresh greenery, and the inviting perfume of many flowers. “What a lovely garden,” I said to Ta-Miu in a hushed voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before.”
“Then I’m glad you’re seeing it now,” said a woman’s husky voice from a place under one of the sycamore trees. There was the sound of a linen dress whispering over stone, a few footsteps, and she was standing before me. Her beautiful face, broad and dark-skinned, and her tightly curled hair were Nubian, and her smile was more dazzling than the array of gold and jewels adorning her neck, ears, and arms. I had to stare. Who wore so much finery at this time of night, in such a lonely place as a silent garden?
She saw how my eyes were fixed on her adornments, and her teeth flashed when she laughed. “Why shouldn’t I?” she said, answering my unasked question. “I love these pretty things. Why can’t I wear them even when I am the only one who’ll see them? Don’t I count as someone important enough to impress with all these treasures?”
She tapped the heaviest bracelet on her arm. “This one was given to me by Pharaoh himself. Well, they all were, but this one he gave to me with his own hands, on the morning after he took me for his wife. Your aunt didn’t like that at all, but she was still just another one of his women. There wasn’t a thing she could do about it … then.”
“You know that I’m Queen Tiye’s niece?” I was astonished.