Or maybe the king just liked Maet better.
Sita looked away from the pair, forcing her thoughts back into the dark where she kept them.Harden your heart, she told herself.Make it as a stone that grief cannot penetrate.
“My father was surprised to receive the invitation to visit your kingdom,” Harsi began again, trying a new tack. “There hasn’t been much exchange between Tash and Khetara in many seasons—and suddenly we find ourselves here. I wonder why that is?”
Sita licked her lips. He was fishing. Perhaps he hoped the shedeh would have loosened her tongue and he’d get some valuable information out of her. She knew the invitation was her mother’s doing, having convinced the king that it had been his idea all along. The viziers were only too happy to oblige. Normally, Sita wouldn’t have paid attention to any of these political machinations, but since Mery had so effectively revealed her ignorance about matters of import when he’d confessed his plans, Sita had made it a priority to learn everything she could about the state of the kingdom.
She’d begun eavesdropping on conversations and writing what she’d learned on scrolls kept under her bed, hidden among her love poems and stories. Even if Nebet or one of the other attendants came across them, she wrote them in the gods’ words instead of the common script, so none of the servants would be able to decipher them. She had even asked her tutor to give her an overview of Khetaran current affairs during their last lesson. He’d been surprised, perhaps even a little frightened, by the request—as if she’d asked for a weapon that might one day beused against him. But shewasthe princess, so in the end, he’d complied.
What he told her was shocking.
The ongoing drought leading to crop reductions and mass hunger across the Two Lands.
The weakening of trade and relations between Khetara and the surrounding kingdoms.
The unrest in Low Khetara, where the king’s nomarches had been receiving growing resistance to Amunmose’s steep tax increases.
Mery was right, she’d thought. While he sits and eats cake, outside the kingdom falls.
By killing their father, Mery believed he would save Khetara from the poor leadership that was driving it into ruin. Sita had thought he was exaggerating, but the more she learned, the more she saw she was wrong.
The queen had likely arranged the visit from Tash in an attempt to strengthen ties with the kingdom at their southern border, so that in the event of violence in Low Khetara, they would have an ally to come to High Khetara’s aid.
A marriage between me and their eldest prince would certainly do the trick.But she didn’t say any of that to Harsi.
“Time rushes by so quickly, does it not?” she said instead, nimbly sidestepping the question. “Sometimes we blink and seasons have passed without our notice, and we’ve failed to reunite with old friends.”
“Indeed,” Harsi said with a small smile. Despite not getting the information he wanted, he seemed to appreciate the clever deflection.
Even after five cups of shedeh, Sita thought with satisfaction,I can still play this game.
“Harsi, my friend!” Mery waved from across the table as heflitted around the room like a peacock. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He was resplendent in a midnight-blue robe and a collar decorated with blue and white lotus flowers. A golden scarab made up the center of the collar, its shell a great emerald that subtly honored the visiting Tashans. Sita couldn’t help but notice that he’d adopted a familiar tone with the prince, calling him “friend” despite their never having met before.
“Very much, Prince Meryamun, very much,” Harsi replied, raising his cup in appreciation.
Mery then turned his attention to her. “Sitamun, it’s not like you to remain hidden behind the table during such a feast. Come, allow me to introduce you to some of our other guests.”
“Ah, but I’m keeping Harsi company at the moment,” Sita demurred. “Perhaps I shall join you later.” It was true, she and Mery were normally joined at the hip during formal occasions, but she couldn’t bear the idea of prattling on about fashion and perfume with the lesser nobility that night.
Mery’s eyes narrowed for only a moment before he grinned and said, “Very well—later then,” and moved on. She watched him work the crowd, his slender body glowing with health and vitality, and his infectious smile spreading to each person he spoke to, disarming one scowling Tashan ambassador after another. The queen was never far from his side—clearly relieved to share the burden of diplomacy with her very capable son. With every laugh, every shared whisper, every cup poured in fellowship, Sita saw the crown shift invisibly from her enfeebled father’s head to Mery’s.
She couldn’t help but wonder who else saw it too.
“Your brother cuts a fine figure,” Harsi said after a moment. “As do you. The two of you are alike in many ways, no?”
Sita picked a fig from the bowl in front of her and inspected it carefully before taking a bite. The shedeh was making her wistfulfor better days.
“We are,” she said finally, gazing into the fruit’s soft pink flesh. “In looks and in temperament, I’ve been told. Mother tells us we were most unmanageable children. Though Mery was always better at getting away with things than I was. We both love the old stories, perhaps I more than him; and we both love a hunt on the river, perhaps him more than me. I prefer watching the birds to killing them, though given the chance, I can throw a spear as well as any man.”
The musicians finished their song and started a new one: the mirror dance. The four dancers faced each other, two by two, and began to move, each pair mirroring the other’s movements in perfect harmony. Slow and seductive, each musical phrase was punctuated by a tinkling of the tiny silver bells each dancer wore on their fingertips. The boisterous chatter quieted somewhat as the guests turned to watch, mesmerized by the sway of the dancers’ hips.
“But we’re different too,” Sita added.
“Oh?” Harsi said, his eyes still on the dancers.
Not everyone was watching the performance, though. Mery stood across the room, and while the other guests were drinking in the sight of those sleek, light-footed bodies, he was looking at her.
“Mery has courage,” Sita said, trapped in her brother’s gaze. “I do not.”
