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When she opened her eyes well into the noonday and stretched like a well-rested kitten atop her bed, he stood in the shadows as he always did.
“Good morning, my Queen,” he said formally.
“Your court awaits.”
Slowly, her pleasure-hazed eyes cleared and sharpened.
Slowly, she donned the invisible cloak of royalty once more, and hid the woman beneath within the protective, impenetrable armor.
They stared at each other for a moment and an eternity, knowing that everything would be back the way it was.
That last night had never happened. Would never be mentioned.
Would never happen again if their union bore fruit.
It did.
Nine months later, the Great Queen Hatshepsut gave birth to a healthy and hearty little boy.
With her husband just fresh in his tomb, newly embalmed, she named her son Thutmose III, after her father, the once mighty Pharoah beloved by his people.
The Council and Priests declared Thutmose the new Pharoah, and given his age, they declared Hatshepsut Regent. Until the Prince came of age, she would preside over all of the Pharoah’s duties in his place.
She gave herself the name Hatasu, a masculine version of her original title, and had the historians take down her father’s dying words to record them for all posterity:
This daughter of mine, Khnumetamun Hatshepsut, may she live, I have appointed as my successor upon my throne. She shall direct the people in every sphere of the Palace; it is she, indeed, who shall lead you. Obey her words, unite yourselves at her command.
And so it was.
She and Shai were now Regent and Shadow.
The divide between them would never be greater as it was now.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Modern Day. Cairo, Egypt.
In the end, Ben decided on Phoenix Express instead of Black Dragon.
A feather-cushioned seat was far more comfortable on a long haul than boney, leathery scales. Some of those sharp spines gauged into the most inconvenient places.
Now, the three travelers, outfitted in airy local attire to better blend in, sat sipping Karkade in the shady courtyard at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities.
“Well, did you find what you were looking for, Indiana Jones?” Ere prodded, lightly but impatiently.
Despite his laissez-faire attitude with life, he loved delving into mysteries and curiosities. He loved puzzles and riddles to pit his considerable wits against.
Come to think of it, perhaps the Jade Emperor had always known this about Erebu. Perhaps this was why he sent Ben’s irreverent “uncle” on all these quests.
“I’m merely a Professor of Ancient Civilizations and Mythologies,” Ben said, “hardly as dashing as the fictitious Dr. Jones.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, warrior sleuth,” Ere quipped. “You are a hundred times more dashing and a thousand times more handsome.”
Ben curled the corner of his lips and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Of course, you must be, given your sire,” Ere immodestly pronounced, wagging his brows.
“Mmm,” Ben agreed. “Father Gabriel is indeed my hero.”
