We sat under the stars all that night, talking, shedding happy tears, even teasing one another in our old way. Then, as the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn, Bit-Bit said, “Wait here a moment,” and dashed back into my apartments. She came out holding a small piece of papyrus.
“I have something special to give you, Nefertiti,” she said, kneeling beside me once more. “It’s a charm of great power, blessed by Isis herself. Actually, it’s not mine to give. You made it. You didn’t see me, but I was secretly watching you that last night before you left Akhmin. I saw you put this at the goddess’s feet. It’s stayed there ever since, for such a long time, and no matter what the weather. Even though I was angry at you, once I learned we were going to see you again, I knew you should have it. Whatever spell you wrote on it must be very strong if it protected you enough to see this day.” She handed me the papyrus as she added, “I wish I could work so much magic. I wish I could read what it says.”
I looked at the familiar writing, the characters carefully formed with a piece of charcoal rather than a scribe’s pen or brush. It was the oath I’d made to Isis, promising to live my life as bravely as I could and recognizing that it was not enough to be born free if I didn’t have the courage to live my freedom.
I put my arm around Bit-Bit’s shoulder and rested the papyrus on the ground between us. “If this is magic, I want nothing better than to share it with you.” As the first gleam of the Aten’s disk showed on the horizon, I began to read aloud the vow I’d made—the vow I hoped my sister would take for her own: to give no one power over my life but myself.
Epilogue
WAKING THE QUEEN
“Nefertiti? Beloved?” Amenophis peeked around the corner of my doorway in the temple’s guest quarters, a lamp held high in his hand. “Are you almost ready?”
“I would be, except my braids have come undone.” I grinned at my husband. “I must look more like a market woman than a royal wife.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true. And it’s also true that you said you wanted to do this before dawn, though I don’t know why.”
I rolled my eyes as if I’d explained the whole matter to him a hundred times. “Ever since your father named you coruler, everything we do becomes a royal occasion. We’re swarmed by people everywhere we go. What I’ve come here to accomplish is simple and personal. That means getting up before anyone else knows about it.”
“Including the priests?”
“Especially the priests.”
“Getting up and sneaking away,” Amenophis mused. “It reminds me of our courtship.” I glared at him so hard he threw his free hand up in surrender and cried, “What? What? I’m ready to go.”
“So am I.”
I tossed on a cloak in case the air was chilly and took one of the oil lamps from my room. Together we left the temple guesthouse in perfect silence and made our way to a place that, until now, I had only seen in my dreams.
The Great Sphinx loomed above us, his human head framed by a scattering of stars, his massive lion’s paws outstretched. I bowed before him. I gave my lamp to Amenophis to hold and stepped forward, holding out the scroll I’d brought with me from Thebes, the same one that my sister, Bit-Bit, had brought to me from home.
In the days since the celebration of our marriage, Amenophis had opened his heart to me, revealing all the plans he hoped to achieve when it was his time to reign over the Two Lands. His ideas were astonishing, world-changing, dangerous, and noble, even if there would be many who wouldn’t see matters that way. More than ever, I wanted to be a part of his dreams, but I also wanted to be his shield and his shelter. More than ever, I would need to be brave.
I laid my written oath of courage at the feet of the Great Sphinx, the one who’d first showed me that I could master my fears and live my life truly free. I gave my thanks in silence, prayed for new strength, then turned to take my husband’s hand and face the east where the Aten dawned in beauty.
AFTERWORD
In my previous books, Nobody’s Princess and Nobody’s Prize, I wrote about Helen of Troy, a woman of legendary beauty whose life was mythical but very well might have been historical, too. Many people believed that the Troy Homer described in his epic poem The Iliad was purely the stuff of myth, until nineteenth-century amateur archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann used that same epic poem to help him uncover the remains of a real Troy that had been attacked, conquered, and put to the torch at the time Helen would have been living.
Now I’m writing about Nefertiti, another beautiful woman, except this time she’s a historical person who very well might have been mythical!
There’s much that we know about Nefertiti and much that remains a mystery. One of the most wonderful parts of this puzzle is the world-famous statue of this fascinating Egyptian queen, a carved and painted bust that has preserved her beauty through the centuries. Much of ancient Egyptian art depicting members of the royal family was formalized, which is to say that if Pharaoh or any of his relatives had physical imperfections, the artist did not show them. Think of it as the great-great-great-to-the-nth-degree-grandfather of Photoshopping.