Only one person wasn’t turned toward the Holy of Holies. A bald young girl, no more than thirteen years old, her neck long and birdlike, dressed in the standard garb of a priestess. She stood rigid at Montuhotep’s side, as if on the edge of flight.
She was staring at Sita.
Their eyes met, and Sita was surprised when the girl didn’t lower her gaze in deference. Sita found herself unable to look away, despite the goddess’s imminent approach.
“Sitamun,” Mery whispered in her ear.
There was something deep and treacherous about the girl’seyes. They made Sita feel exposed, as if all her secrets were laid bare.Who is she?she thought, still staring.
“Sitamun…”
Sita felt herself falling, as if into a deep well. She heard a roar, and a rhythmic, percussive sound, like a heartbeat.
The lamb…
“Sita!”Mery elbowed her in the side.
Sita blinked. “What?”
Mery pointed toward the center of the courtyard, where the high priestess of Bast and her retinue stood with the goddess, awaiting greetings from the prince and princess.
“Oh,” Sita breathed, her cheeks reddening. She could have sworn she’d only looked at the girl for a moment, but it must have been longer.Perhaps I spent too much time in the sun today, she thought. When she glanced back at the young priestess, the girl was watching the goddess like everyone else.
“Focus, please,” Mery muttered through a smile. He bowed his head, and the high priestess returned the gesture.
Sita cleared her throat and bowed her own. Mery had probably seen the high priestess before, when he’d attended the previous Bast Festival, but this was Sita’s first time. High Priestess Karo was an imposing woman, tall and broad with a roughly hewn, chiseled face and glossy deep-brown skin. But what was most striking were the tattoos on her shoulders.
They were wedjat—Eyes of Horus.
High-ranking priestesses were rare in Khetara, but the ones Sita had seen had all shared those particular markings. Her tutor told her that priestesses usually had a pair of wedjat on their lower backs as well.
“Those women are divine vessels,” her tutor had said, “not to be sullied by the acts of man. The eyes remind all who see them that the gods are watching.”
High Priestess Karo saw Sita peeking up from her bowed position and studied her with interest. As if she and her many eyes could see right through her.
“Rise, Princess Sitamun,” the high priestess said. “You mayboth approach the goddess.”
Sita and Mery walked forward and knelt before the statue of Bast, who was barely visible behind her gauzy curtains. Sita thought of Nebet’s words back in the dressing chamber.
She said I should pray to the goddess to deliver my father from evil.
Taking a deep breath, Sita closed her eyes.
She tried to pray for him. She really did. But like a drop of ink in water, another thought pervaded all others, coloring her mind with one, singular desire.
I wish to be free.
She immediately wanted to take it back.
No, no, no, she thought, desperate.Do as Nebet told you to. Don’t pray for that. Why did you pray for that? That’s stupid, and selfish, and—
But the moment was over. The high priestess laid a hand on Sita’s shoulder, and she opened her eyes.
“Women of Khetara!” the high priestess announced, raising her arms high. “Tonight we honor the birth of our goddess! We honor her by laying down our burdens and our silence and filling the sky with a glorious noise! The greater our rapture, the greater praise we give to our divine mistress!” She paused and gazed out at the throng with a catlike smile. “Let the Festival of Bast begin!”
A deafening, ecstatic roar erupted from the crowd beyond the gate, and Mery turned to lead the procession. Sita followed him between the massive pylons and under the shadow of Amun’s gate, her heart thrumming. When she stepped out into the open, her blunder with the goddess was forgotten. She stopped, so overwhelmed by what she saw that it took her brother’s prodding to get her going again.
There were so many people.
