Is it?she thought.
She nodded.
A host of emotions passed over Nehshi’s round face. Finally, he broke eye contact and bowed, keeping his head low until she’d passed by.
Neff’s cheeks flushed.I think I prefer being ignored.
The attendants led her toward the side of the temple, where a wide platform had been prepared as the site for the ceremony. While Meryamun received blessings from Amun in the sanctuary and was anointed with sacred oils, she and the rest of the royal assembly gathered in the alcove adjacent to the platform, shieldedfrom view by curtains hung from the roof high above. Beyond the curtains, Neff could hear the sound of a massive crowd, abuzz with anticipation.
Once the attendants touched up her face and hair, they dispersed to tend to other courtiers. Left on her own, Neff scanned the area. The tension she’d felt in the palace halls persisted in the crowd—if anything, it had increased. The concubines and servants that had been spared, newer additions or people close to Meryamun himself, huddled in groups, smiling nervously. The courtiers’ moods, near and distant relations of the king and queen, seemed uncertain, as if they were waiting to see how things would play out. On the other hand, several of the palace officials and viziers seemed more at ease, drinking their wine with what looked like a sense of satisfaction, discreetly raising their cups to each other as if in congratulations for a job well done. Neff wondered how many of them had known all along what was going to happen.
Among the gathered flock, in the emptiness between one group and the next, Neff sensed the ghosts of the missing. She wondered how long it would take Meryamun to fill them with new acolytes. She thought of him in his chambers, the blessed waters pouring over his shining body, and thought:
Not long. Not long at all.
Queen Bintanath stood nearby with one of the two middle-aged attendants Neff had seen earlier. The queen’s saffron-colored gown, accented with an amethyst-studded vulture-wing collar, was gorgeous. But her face, lovely as it was, was devoid of emotion. Her attendant offered her a painted goblet, which she took and drank, but her expression didn’t change.
The queen had been much the same when the prince had presented Neff to her upon their arrival at the palace. It wasn’t surprising, really. Within days, she’d lost her husband, her daughter had vanished, and her son—who’d had most of the king’s courtmassacred—was preparing to take the throne.
Looking at her, Neff thought the queen was no different from the goblet in her hand. They were both beautiful, and both empty.
There was really only one person Neff wanted to see, and she found him on the outskirts of the crowd.
Despite being a prince, Kenna’s costume was more austere than everyone else’s. He had exchanged his priest’s tunic for a robe that was fine but still white, and his only nod to the magnitude of the occasion was some kohl around his eyes and a gold pectoral featuring Anubis, the god of the dead. All around him, courtiers chatted quietly together, yet Kenna stood apart, silent and grave. When he noticed Neff looking at him, she glimpsed the hurt in his eyes before he turned away.
Considering the manner in which she’d left the temple, Kenna probably thought she’d seen the prince’s offer as a step up from the monastic life of a priestess, as if the friendship between them had meant nothing at all.
Neff had anticipated this moment and taken a side trip to the temple gardens to retrieve something before rejoining the rest of the group in the courtyard. She held it in her palm as she slowly made her way toward Kenna. She could feel his eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her gaze elsewhere, like she was intending to retrieve a goblet of juice from a table behind him. She didn’t want to be seen speaking to Kenna, or even standing too close to him, for fear of raising suspicions. But as she passed him, she reached out and slipped the little object from her hand to his.
Only after she’d picked up a drink from the table and moved back across the room did she chance a look in Kenna’s direction. Sure enough, he was studying the object with a puzzled expression.
It was a tiny pomegranate, still green and unripe.
He looked back at her, and she clasped her hands together, hoping he would understand her message.Trust me,Brother, she thought.I am still with you.
Kenna’s confusion cleared, like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
Just then, a ripple of excitement rolled through the crowd.
Meryamun was coming.
The courtiers parted to reveal the three Heka priests walking toward the platform. They were all bare-chested, their skin shining with oil, and they wore elegant, elaborately pleated schentis. A hush fell over the crowd as they processed, each carrying a sacred item in their hands—
The ibis-masked priest, carrying the royal crook.
The falcon-masked priest, carrying the royal flail.
And finally, the priest Herihor, wearing the mask of a horned ram, carrying the double crown of Khetara.
Behind them, resplendent in a blue and red schenti shot through with gold, a lion skin thrown over his shoulder, came the crown prince.
He was magnificent. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles, as well as his winged golden collar, were studded with rubies and sapphires that glinted in the sunlight. His already striking face had been expertly painted with rouge, kohl, and green malachite powder that brought out the color of his eyes. His nose was strong, his lips inviting. No longer simply a man, he seemed to descend from the heavens to walk among them, radiating his own golden light.
The sight of him seemed to clear the much of the tension from the air. The men looked upon him with admiration, the women, desire. There was one sentiment they seemed to share, though—a heady mix of wonder, veneration, and dread.
Awe.
Neff felt it too. It would be so easy to fall at his feet, to explain away all the horrible things he’d said and done, and worship him. It was temptation of the highest order. It was the lure of a serpent’s intoxicating, undulating dance.
