The space was much cleaner than Sita remembered. The assorted bric-a-brac that had been thrown into it over the years had been cleared away, and even the walls, painted with images of falcon-headed Horus, seemed fresh.
A luscious feast had been set on the large low table in the center of the room. Breadcrumbs, bare bones, and the skeletons of grape clusters lay abandoned on golden platters, along with three elaborately painted wine jars. It could have been the scene of any celebration, any formal ceremony meant to raise a glass to the pharaoh.
They were all there. Her father’s four other wives, who’d clucked at her when she was a toddling nunu playing with wooden dolls and who’d taught her how to apply the kohl to her eyes when she’d grown.
Maet’s mother was there too.
So were the concubines, young and beautiful, and the servants, his faithful litter bearers, his personal attendants, the cook and his helpers, and the courtly, gentle Ineni, who’d remained at the king’s side until the very end. All of them were in attendance around that table to honor the memory of King Amunmose III.
And all of them were dead.
Some had collapsed onto the table, their heads resting on fine plates, almost as if they were sleeping. Others had fallenbackward and lay splayed across the blue tiled floor, their hands clutching their throats or stomachs or each other. Ineni lay closest to the door, his slender body fixed in a contorted pose, his lips slack and blue. Maet’s mother had curled into a fetal position on the floor. She looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
None of them appeared to have suffered any violence, and it would have been a wholly bloodless tableau, if it wasn’t for the wine.
It spilled from toppled cups onto the table, dark and gruesome, and dripped in crimson rivulets onto the floor, seeping into the cracks between the tiles. It soaked into white linen dresses and stained cooling skin. It filled the room with a thick, sour tang that nearly made her gag.
Despite there not being a single wound on anyone in that room, Sita knew a weapon when she saw one.
And she knew her brother.
Whatever was in the wine, it took down two dozen vibrant lives in the matter of moments, as swift as a cobra’s kiss.
The scene swam before Sita’s eyes like a mirage, too horrible to be real. She dashed forward, falling to her knees before Maet’s mother’s body, dragging the woman’s head into her lap.
“Wake up,” she begged. “Please…”
Maet’s mother was still, her eyes open and dry.
No more tears.
Only a few days ago, her father had been bouncing Maet on his knee at that banquet, while the little girl’s mother looked on.Now, all three of them are dead.
Stifling a sob, Sita plucked the empty wine cup from the woman’s hand and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. The sound was so loud it jolted her.
She was struck by a sudden, terrible clarity, like a curse finallybroken.
This is just the beginning, she thought. She’d played enough games with Mery to know an opening gambit when she saw one.Sacrifice the pawns to advance to a superior position.In one night, Mery had eliminated everyone in the palace who’d been truly loyal to their father. Everyone except for the queen, Kenna, and her.
She had no idea what his plans were for her mother and brother, but the thought of what he meant to do with her was too sickening to contemplate.
If I don’t get away now, I’ll be trapped in this nightmare forever.
Just then, a man stepped through a door at the back of the room. She recognized him as one of the guards Mery was particularly fond of. His fierce expression softened when he saw Sita kneeling at the woman’s side. He cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, Princess Sitamun, but you shouldn’t be here,” he said slowly, carefully. “Please, allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”
“No, no,” Sita replied, quickly stumbling to her feet. “I’ll go on my own, thank you. I was merely… saying goodbye…”
The guard bowed his head but watched until she backed out of the room, until the red curtain dropped once again between her and the grisly scene.
Then, she ran.
***
She was nearing her chambers when Sita turned a corner and slammed into someone coming from the other direction. Instinctively, she lashed out in terror, ready to fight. Strong hands took hold of her wrists and held them.
