Without her own hood to shield her face from view, the brewer’s daughter recognized Rae too.
The girl raised her palms in submission. Rae expected to see hatred or despair in the girl’s eyes—but all she saw was fear. “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said.
Rae’s heart roiled with a thousand different emotions, and suddenly she felt dizzy. She backed away from the girl to Omari’s side.
“Take me home,” Rae said.
“You can’t go home, Rae,” Omari said, leading her to the door. “Not tonight…”
“Then when?”
Omari didn’t reply. Grabbing a robe hanging by the door, he threw it over Rae’s shoulders and pulled the hood over her head as they stepped out into the dark.
Once you’ve visited that bleak country, there’s no coming back.
Out on the street, they passed an old man who sat slumped in the doorway of an abandoned house, humming to himself and chanting orisons to whatever gods or goddesses would listen.
“The lamb,” he intoned. “The lamb, the lamb, the lamb…”
30
Sita
Sita saw many wonderful things during her journey out of Thonis—farms of golden wheat, herds of humpbacked gray zebu, pyramids piercing the horizon like sharp teeth. But what enchanted her most were the flowers.
Her pleasure garden was home to many lovely blooms, some brought from distant lands as gifts to the king, others so delicate they could only survive in the rarified soil nurtured by the royal gardeners. Everything grew within its allotted space, and any rebellious sprouts that dared venture beyond those limits were quickly rooted out. Sita had always thought it was the most glorious place in the world, but that changed after only a few hours of walking through the Khetaran landscape with Karim.
He’d led her away from the river to avoid being spotted by Meryamun’s ships, but they remained within the fertile strip of land that surrounded the Iteru on both banks, following its general direction south. Along their path, flowers flowed in torrents over the earth: deep-purple cornflowers, golden river hemp blossoms, and frilly chrysanthemums in orange and white and red. They grew wild, intermingling with nightshade and bitterweed until it was difficult to tell the flowers from the weeds.
How different are they, anyway?Sita wondered. They were all beautiful, and the weeds deserved respect for having the strength to thrive even in the harshest terrain. She was amazed at how well the plants all grew with no one tending them, and how they tangled up in each other to survive the capricious winds. The wildflowers may not have been the faultless blossoms of the pleasuregarden, but in a lot of ways, she preferred the freedom of the natural landscape. On a whim, she picked a yellow chrysanthemum bloom and tucked it into her hair.
They’d been walking in silence since leaving the city—Sita, Karim, and the black dog. It was easier to make headway in the afternoon heat without the effort of conversation, and besides, Sita needed the time to think.
The past few days felt like a violent storm that had brought devastation with surprising speed. The thing was—she’d seen it coming. She’d seen it rolling in from the horizon ever since the Festival of Bast. But she’d done nothing to avoid it. Nothing at all.
Now, they’re all dead.
Maet.
Father.
The pharaoh’s entire court.
All at the hands of a brother she had trusted and loved—a brother who was about to take the throne for himself. A brother who had planned—for days, weeks, years?—to take her into his bed.
It was unthinkable.
How could someone she’d grown up with, someone she thought she knew as well as her own heart, turn out to be such a monster? The revelation threw everything she believed into chaos. She combed over her memories during that walk, viewing them with new eyes, and was shocked to see evidence of Mery’s intent everywhere among them.
The way he liked to pick out dresses for her to wear to the banquets, and how he’d linger to chat while she changed into them.
The way he’d brush his hand against hers across the table whenever they played Mehen or Hounds and Jackals.
The way his eyes had flashed when he’d caught her with Femiin the ship’s cabin the night of the festival.
In retrospect, his objective hadn’t been hidden. Not really. But how could she have anticipated what was to come? How could anyone?
Not that it mattered, because as far as she was concerned, the blame rested fully on her shoulders. She wasn’t stupid. She always got through her lessons quickly and frequently beat Mery in their games. She was as sharp as her brother, despite what members of the court—and her own family—might think.
