Forget that night.
Forget the Bast Festival.
Forget Mery’s confession.
Her brother had been drunk. There on the boat, amid the festivities and indulgences, she’d first thought his claim that he was poisoning their father was another one of his cruel jokes. But then he’d leaned forward, his lips nearly touching hers.
“Murder is quite an exciting game, dear sister,” he’d whispered. “And now you’re playing it with me.”
He’d shared that truth with her for a reason. They’d suckled milk from the same breast, played with the same toys, grew up in the glaring light of the same expectations. And when it came to killing the king, Mery wanted to do that together too.
“How? How are you doing this?” she’d asked him once she’d recovered her voice.
Mery’s eyes had twinkled with mischief. “The same way one eats a hippopotamus. A little at a time.”
Sita’s first instinct had been to tell someone. To go to the first palace official she saw upon disembarking and admit everything. But by the time the boat reached the shore, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Mery probably wasn’t working alone, which meant others in the palace were loyal to him. She thought of the oft-maligned viziers. How could she know who to trust?
Set himself gathered seventy-two conspirators when he plotted tokill Osiris, Sita had thought, remembering the legends of the gods.
Besides that, Father was so sick, he could die at any moment. If she revealed that the son in line for the throne had murdered the pharaoh, what then? Such knowledge could easily throw the entire kingdom into chaos—and war. She had studied enough Khetaran history to know that such revelations almost always ended in bloodshed. Was she prepared to have all those innocent people’s deaths on her conscience? And if Mery ended up facing execution for his actions, who was to say she wouldn’t meet a similar fate? Wasn’t that part of the reason he’d told her in the first place?
Murder is an exciting game, dear sister. And now you’re playing it with me.
One after another, her thoughts tightened around her like the coils of a snake until she could hardly breathe.
There’s no way out.
Sick with horror and excessive drink, she’d stumbled back to her chambers without saying a word to anyone.
The days since had been a waking nightmare. The day following the festival, she’d walked around in a daze, feeling as if she were floating above her own body as it went from place to place, woodenly eating meals and nodding blithely as some courtier spoke about hunting expeditions and chariot racing. On the second day, she’d begun drinking wine at every meal, and found that with enough of it, her mind softened like butter, and she didn’t have to think quite as much. On the third day, she’d spirited a jug of wine into her chambers for mornings and late nights. On the fourth day, she’d needed a fresh jug.
On one of those nights, she couldn’t really remember which, Sita had lured Femi to her quarters to finish what they’d started at the Bast Festival. He’d been terribly nervous at first, keeping one eye on the door even as she pulled him to her, but she’d assured him that Mery no longer posed a threat.
I’m keeping his secret, she’d thought,he’ll keep mine.
She became skilled at covering up these excesses, making sure no one knew that she was sneaking wine from the kitchens and liaisons with Femi. Forgetting, however, was proving to be extremely difficult. That morning, she’d woken in a panic, and had the idea to speak with Kenna.
She’d never been particularly close with her strange, quiet brother, but defying their parents’ every expectation took courage. She may not have understood his obsession with funerary rites and the priesthood, but she still respected his ability to ignore custom and do what he wanted.
It was an ability Sita never had.
If she could hint to him that something was amiss at the palace, maybe he would come investigate. Knowing Kenna’s talent for deduction, he’d probably figure out what was going on and find a way to fix the situation. Somehow.
But Sita realized her error the moment they started talking. Kenna only cared about his work, and he still saw her as a silly little girl. Her brother may be extremely intelligent when it came to scrolls and rites, but he knew nothing about navigating palace life. If she told him the truth, he’d only see it in black and white.
For all she knew, he’d make things worse.
The visit had been a mistake. Not only that, the entire time they were talking, she’d had the distinct feeling of being watched. So she’d left without telling Kenna the truth, feeling more alone than ever.
With those intrusive thoughts crowding her mind, Sita wrapped her legs around Femi and pulled him closer in an attempt to block them out. She could feel the urgency of his desire, but he gently shifted his body away, kissing her all the while.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked, feeling slightly hurt.
“More than anything,” Femi replied, stroking her cheek. “But you’ve had too much wine, Sitamun, and I don’t want you to doanything you’ll regret.”
Sita sighed. Why did he have to be sogood? Somehow it felt like more than she deserved.
“However,” Femi said roguishly, “There are other ways for meto satisfy your appetite.”
