Daughter of Isis (Descendants of Isis #1)

The girl’s eyes studied him and she sat up. “I only wish to please you. To please our god.”


“I know,” Seth cooed, trying to calm her. “I know. And no harm will come to you. You are clearly loyal to your duties.” He ran his hand over her seven knot anklet, and she flinched. “Tell me your name.”

“Britney,” she responded automatically.

“And do you remember anything before you came here? Where you lived or if you had family?”

Britney shook her head. “Just a pair of eyes like yours, except they were like ice. Yours are warm.”

Seth nodded, anticipating her exact answer. He glanced down at the anklet and rubbed each knot between his fingers. “If I could release you from your ties, what would you do?”

Britney began to shake and pushed his hand away. “No-no! Please! Have I not been loyal to the temple?”

“I’m not going to cause you any harm. I just want to know what you would do if you were free.”

“No! I would never abandon Set! Never! He is my god!” Britney panicked.

“Okay, okay,” Seth rubbed her shoulder, letting his charm flow over her. “Relax.”

She melted easily under his touch. He shook his head with disbelief.

“If you don’t mind, Britney, I’d like to be alone,” he told her.

Britney nodded, picking up the shell of kohl. Seth took it from her grasp.

“I’ll take care of this. Just go.”

She nodded again, turned for the door, and left. He watched her, his nerves running on edge. Walking to the shelves, he placed the kohl among the bottles and jars. He leaned on the shelf, his mind deep in thought. With so much occurring, he didn’t know how to take it all in. His indoctrination. His future training to become hem-netjer. Attending Yale as his father arranged. And, of course, Natti. What in Set’s name was he going to do about her?

Taking several breaths, he pulled his courage together and stepped from the hem-netjer’s private purification room. In the large hallway other wab disciples, who had turned eighteen over the last year, stood waiting, ready to be called to the ceremony. Altogether, there were twelve disciples split into two lines of six. They stood along the walls facing the she-netjeri, the sacred, man-made pool.

Seth stared at the deep, indigo waters before them. Filtering through a thin slit in the temple wall, a small waterfall continually replenished the cool underground water source. Heated lamps cast a shimmering glow over the pink water lilies and blue lotus flowers that rested gently in the ripping surface.

“My favorite spot was the Italian Gardens. I loved sitting and listening to the fountains. And when the sun began to set on a clear day, the colors would reflect in the water. It looked as if an artist painted the scene.”

Seth shook Natti’s words from his thoughts, took his place at the end of a line, and scanned the group. Like Seth, four of them bore the was scepter, including Ky, Q, and two other disciples whose families lived in Washington and Nevada. The tattoo was Set’s Mark, signifying they were one of Set’s Blessed, one born with power. The rest were Norms, un-blessed mortals that were either recruited or born into the Sons. Ky’s sly smile caught Seth’s eye. The kohl of his face was smeared, painting black circles along his cheeks.

“What happened to him?” Seth whispered to Q.

Q glanced at Ky and snorted. “Couldn’t keep his hands off the women when they tried to properly prepare him for his indoctrination.”

Seth was about to respond when footsteps echoed from the staircases ahead, cutting him off. The chatter around them fell silent and the tension rose. Doctor Jacob Chang and Mikael Petersen rounded the corners. All the boys, including Seth, collapsed to one knee and placed their fists over their hearts in a sign of respect and honor.

“Arise,” Mikael called.

The disciples obeyed, rising up and standing tall. They faced the blessed subordinate priests. Seth watched Mikael scan their faces and scowl when his ruby-bronze eyes fell on his own son. He shook his head in disgrace at Ky’s appearance before returning his attention to the disciples.

“The hem-netjer awaits your presence in the grand hypostyle hall,” he announced.

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