Beyond the road lined with ram-headed sphinx, the crowd was like a rolling ocean reaching as far as the eye could see. As the king’s daughter, she had gone to other well-attended festivals and sailing days. But this… this was different. Holy days were formal, serious affairs, with a lot of prayers and rituals and standing very still. Yet there were no serious faces in the crowd before her, no stillness. Everything was sound and movement, from the drumbeats that echoed from every corner of the city to the dancing women who waved to her as she passed by.
Beside her, Mery glowed in the dying light, imperishable as a star. Nothing ever seemed to rattle him—not the pressure of his position nor the thousand eyes upon him as he faced the endless throng. He fed on their adoration, suckling at it like mother’s milk. Sita walked one step behind him, attempting to mirror his confidence by keeping her shoulders back and her head held high.
They processed slowly down the main temple road toward the river. Palace guards flanked them on each side, protecting Sita and Mery from the crush of people. Still, the crowd pressedclose, the heat of them stirring something passionate in Sita’s soul, tugging at the door where she kept her desire locked away, willing her to set it free.
With every step, the crowd’s energy grew. Women—both young and old—tossed their hair to the rhythm of the music, lifting their skirts to reveal all that lay beneath.
There was a reason that only people of a certain age were allowed to participate in the Festival of Bast.
The half-clothed women danced with each other, with the wide-eyed, delighted men, and screamed their joy into the night. Sita felt herself blush, but she could not look away from the flesh around her, the curves of those bodies, the intoxicating way their movements cast shadows. She thought of her own body, separated from the night air by that thin layer of cloth, and had the urge to rip her gown away. To throw herself into that sea of noise and skin and ecstasy.
She must have veered toward the crowd because suddenly a guard’s hand was at her elbow, guiding her back to the center of the road.
“I’m all right—” She stopped short when she saw the guard’s face.
Femi.
He met her eyes. Like the other guards, he wore only a short black schenti, its cinched waist and elegant pleats accentuating the sleek animal quality of his body. Her frustration gave way to desire.
He must have sensed it. In the turn of his mouth, the widening of his pupils, the new tension in the muscles of his neck, he seemed to say,I want you too.
She edged closer to him, so that the curve of her hip just barely brushed against his as they walked. The contact, light as it was, sent shivers up her spine.
They soon reached the riverbank, where the pharaoh’s ship waited to follow Bast’s boat to the edge of Thonis as the goddess slowly made her way back to her temple at Bubas. Dozens of people were already on board. Several of the king’s lesser wives and concubines were there, as well as a few of the younger up-and-coming palace officials, and of course—more guards. They cheered as one as she and Mery approached, raising their cups in greeting as Femi helped her up the ramp to join them.
Someone handed her a rattle, and someone else gave her a cup filled with wine. It was sky blue, shaped like a lotus flower, and fit perfectly into her palm. Hands touched her back, her shoulders, her arms. She was in among them now, their smiling faces flashing in and out of the firelight as her name echoed around her.
“Sitamun!”
“Sitamun!”
“Sitamun!”
The voices were all young and sparkling and beautiful.
Then she felt lips at her ear.
“Drink deep, sister,” Mery whispered. “This is your night.”
She smiled and took a sip of wine. It was thick and honey-sweet. She licked her lips. Normally, a sip was all the wine she was given—usually as part of ceremonies at the palace.
Tonight, I can have as much as I like, she thought, and drank the rest. It slipped down her throat and filled her with a slow, satisfying heat. When the cup was empty, she held it out, and someone filled it to the brim.
By the time the boat was floating down the river, its banks overflowing with revelers, Sita had begun to float too.
Time fell away. The singing, talking, and music became an amalgamated hum of joy. She was unsteady on her feet—either from the rocking of the boat or the drink, or both. There were bowls of roasted tiger nuts and platters of fresh plums, and whenSita pierced the skin of the fruit with her teeth, the sweet juices dribbled down her chin. Her body tingled with every casual touch, every brush of fabric against her nakedness, every cool breeze through her hair. She sang and laughed, shaking her rattle high in the air, her voice joining the great cacophony and getting lost among many.
It felt so, sogood.
Sita looked for Femi but couldn’t find him, and she worried that he might have stayed behind on the riverbank. But then, all at once, he was in front of her, not dancing, not drinking, simply watching her with those hungry eyes. She grinned, delighted, and fell into him. Her inhibitions long since drowned in wine, she pulled Femi into the shadows of the ship’s empty cabin.
It was cool and quiet inside, and they were blissfully alone with the jars of wine and baskets of uneaten fruit.
Great goddess, she thought as she touched him in the dark.I honor you tonight.
She pushed him against the wall, her hands caressing the slick muscles of his chest.
I open my heart to you, Bast, and celebrate you.
