“Fine, fine,” he said with a laugh. “I’m sorry for ruining your fun.”
Sita crossed her arms and turned away. She heard him sigh. When he spoke again, the teasing tone had gone, and he sounded apologetic.
“What was I to do?” he asked. “Mother told me to watch over you.”
She turned to look at him, and he pouted. Sita’s heart softened.
“You didn’t have to frighten Femi like that,” she said, determined to remain annoyed at him. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Oh, but I had to frighten him. Can’t you see that?” Mery asked, putting his arm around her and leading her to the door ofthe cabin.
“No, I can’t.”
Mery shook his head. “One day soon,I will be pharaoh. Not only will I be his commander, but I will command the entire Khetaran army. It would not do for him to think me soft. Thoughts like that are locusts—they multiply, destroying everything in their path. That guard and all the others must believe, with their whole hearts, that they live only through my benevolence.”
Sita glanced at him. The wine had certainly loosened Mery’s tongue. Everyone in the kingdom knew that he was their father’s successor to the throne, but she’d never heard him speak of it with such seriousness before, and the words somehow didn’t sound like his own.
“Where is this coming from? Father?”
“Not him,” Mery said with a snort. “Sematawy.” An expression of reverence passed over his face. “I’ve had his complete letters brought over from the House of Life. Our tutor taught us about him, of course, but it’s different to read of his exploits in his own words. ‘If it can be done, it will be done.’ That was one of his favorite pronouncements. When he set his mind to something, he made it happen—no matter the cost. Because of that, Khetara saw greatness during his reign, as it will see again in mine.”
King Sematawy.The name swept her back to her tutor’s chambers, where she’d spent so many sweaty afternoons poring over dusty papyri. Sematawy was the king that preceded her father. He was the Great Uniter who slaughtered the unholy king of Low Khetara and joined the two lands as one. His exploits were legendary, and everyone in High Khetara—from pauper to prince—considered him their hero.
Mery was no different, of course, and he’d taken an interest in the old king from a young age. It made sense, given his own path to succession. Still, the immediacy in his voice, the fervor, wasnew. She’d have thought—despite the lack of intimacy between them, that Mery would have turned to their father for guidance about becoming pharaoh. After all, Sematawy was a wartime king, and Khetara had enjoyed peace throughout their father’s reign.
Thoughtful, Sita gazed upon the boat and jubilant masses in the moonlight. “Look at the people, how they celebrate. Is Khetara not already great?”
Mery chuckled without humor. “Again, sister. You look, but you do notsee.These festivals give the people relief, but it is fleeting. Tonight they celebrate, tomorrow they return to their barren fields and hungry children. It’s a bandage over a festering wound, one that has been eating away at this kingdom since the first years of Father’s reign. Just because you choose to ignore it, whiling away your days in the pleasure garden, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
Stung, Sita’s cheeks grew hot.
Suddenly, she felt awful. Where before it had been joyful, the noise of the festival had begun to make her eyes ache. The drumbeats pulsed in time with the pounding in her head.
The festivities were winding down. Out on the deck, some still sang and danced to the music, but many revelers had stretched out together in the shadows on soft furs. A huge crescent moon hung over them, its mirror image reflected in the river.
She stubbornly finished her wine, though her stomach rebelled against it. She was irritated at Mery, both for wrecking her time with Femi and for forcing her to think about matters of state on a night that was supposed to be fun. There might be truth to what he said, but in that instant, she didn’t care. She wanted to say something to hurt him back, to ruin his evening as he had ruined hers.
“You fancy yourself a king, but Father is still very much alive.I doubt he would appreciate talk of his death before its time, even from Mother’s favorite son. He will be well soon, and you’ll have a long wait to follow in Sematawy’s footsteps.”
Mery smiled widely and leaned his head against hers, as if to impart a secret. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think I will.”
Sita squinted at him. “What do you mean? The priests are healing him. They’ve been conducting daily rituals. I saw the amulets.”
Mery yawned and stretched himself like a cat. “The priests may as well stop up the river’s flow as heal what ails our father, Sitamun.”
“I don’t understand.” Sita shook her head. “How do you know what ails him?”
The moon went behind a cloud, and the boat was thrown into darkness, lit only by firelight.
“I know, sweet sister,” Mery replied, his face in shadow, “because I have been poisoning him.”
7
Karim
He never forgave himself for what happened next.
Karim stood in the dark tomb, his breath coming in short gasps. Djet’s scream still reverberated in the stale air.
