The Heretic Queen

robes of Isis. But no one was dressed in a color so deep or striking as Henuttawy. Her long crimson cloak was held by a priestess, and her hair was swept up in magnificent curls behind the golden seshed circlet of a princess. She cut a path through the crowded chamber, leading her priestesses across the temple to the front. “For the akhu of the greatest family in Egypt,” Henuttawy said loudly, withdrawing from her robes a gilded bowl. I wondered how many offerings from the Temple of Isis had gone to pay for such a lavish gift. She placed the bowl next to Woserit’s, making her sister’s look small and inferior. Then she bowed very low to her brother, and her own songstresses began their chant.

“You are late,” Seti said, and Henuttawy leaned forward and whispered something in her brother’s ear. For a moment he looked angry, then he laughed.

“Beautiful, charming Henuttawy,” Woserit whispered in my ear. “Always ready with an excuse. And my brother, ready as always to forgive. That is something that Ramesses has learned from his father. You must watch for that.”

The priests of Amun came forward again, and as their chants rose I couldn’t take my eyes from Ramesses. But he was looking to the priests, whose deep song resounded in the hollow chamber. Woserit lifted her arm so that her bangles made a noise like small bells, and when Ramesses looked across at us, he froze. Then he peered forward in the darkness, and I let my hood slip back slowly from my face.

“Nefer?” he mouthed.

I smiled to let him know it was me. Then I saw that he was wearing the ox-hair necklace on top of his cloak, and my breath caught in my throat.

“You may meet him in the courtyard,” Woserit whispered. “But you will only have a few minutes after the chanting is done.”

I was never so impatient for my time in Pharaoh Seti’s temple to be finished. Every hymn to Amun felt like an eternity. When they had finally finished, I glanced at Woserit and she smiled to indicate that this was the time. In the courtyard outside the mortuary temple, Ramesses and Asha moved through the crowd. “Nefer!” Ramesses shouted, and when he saw me beneath the statue of Amun, I restrained myself from rushing forward and embracing him.

From his side, Asha regarded me with wide, approving eyes. He took in my netted faience dress under which my breasts had been carefully hennaed. “Nefertari, you’ve become a real princess.”

“And you’ve become a real soldier,” I complimented, noting the heavy sword at his side.

Ramesses looked between us, and I’m sure that I saw his shoulders stiffen. “Where have you been?” he exclaimed. “Did Woserit tell you we’ve been to the temple six times?”

I refused to show that I was shocked by the news. Instead, I smiled. “Yes, but priestesses are forbidden from seeing anyone outside the temple during their apprenticeship,” I reminded him.

“But we came inside twice,” Asha interrupted, “pretending to worship just to look for you!”

I laughed, to hide my surprise. “And you think Woserit didn’t know? She wanted to keep me away, in case I should change my mind about the temple!”

Ramesses met my gaze and stepped closer to me. “And now?” he asked quietly. I could smell the mint on his breath, and if I reached out slightly, I could have touched the ox-hair’s necklace. “You aren’t dressed in the robes of Hathor,” he said. He looked down at my beaded dress, and a brilliant flush crept into his cheeks.

I glanced at Asha, who was looking between Ramesses and I with a curious expression. “Because I’m not certain I want to be a priestess,” I said. Before they could question me, I continued with the speech that I had rehearsed. “I don’t know where my place is at this court, or in the temple.”

“Then you should come back!” Asha exclaimed.

Ramesses searched my face, to see if I truly meant what I was saying, and suddenly Iset was at his side. “There you are!” Iset laughed easily. “Henuttawy told me you had gone, but I knew you wouldn’t leave without telling me.”

“How far could he have gone?” Asha scowled. “It’s the Feast of Wag.”

Iset ignored him and put her arm around Ramesses’s waist. I was surprised by her familiarity, and the confident way she met his gaze.

“Have you seen Nefertari?” Ramesses asked.

Iset looked at me. “Nefertari.” She smiled and even managed to sound delighted. “I didn’t recognize you in so much paint.” She turned back to Ramesses. “There is an emissary who would like to speak with you,” she said. “He wants to bring news back to Mitanni about your victory in Kadesh, but he only speaks Hurrian.”

“Then perhaps Nefertari can converse with him,” Ramesses said, looking at me. “She’s probably better at Hurrian than I am. Could you speak with the emissary from Mitanni?”

I gave Ramesses my widest smile. “Why not?”

As the four of us crossed the courtyard, students from the edduba recognized me and called out my name. “You see how much you’ve been missed?” Asha asked. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to be a priestess of Hathor.”

“I think she’d make a wonderful priestess,” Iset offered. She hooked Ramesses by the elbow and led him on.

Asha leaned over to me and whispered, “Of course she does. Without you here, there’s no other woman Ramesses is interested in.”

Asha and I trailed behind Ramesses and Iset, our voices lost in the cacophony of feasting. “So is she always with him?”

“Yes. It’s unbearable. The only place she won’t follow him is the Arena. She even tries to stop Ramesses from racing, or hunting in the marshes.”

I inhaled sharply. “And does he listen?”

“With one ear. He promises her that he will always be careful and tries to quiet her whining with gifts.”

“Why does he put up with it?” I exclaimed.

“Because half the men at court are in love with her. All of Thebes is singing her praises, and the people are hopelessly charmed.”

We both looked at Iset. She was not as tall as Ramesses, but tall enough that everyone in the courtyard noticed when she passed by. Students may have waved and smiled at me, but it was Iset their eyes followed.

“And you?” I asked curiously as we walked together. “Is she charming to you?”

“I see her for what she is. A fool. And she’s completely lost in the Audience Chamber.”

“But Ramesses loves her, doesn’t he?” I asked, and Asha studied me by the light of the torches. “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Not you as well! All of the priestesses fawn over Ramesses. Visiting princesses practically throw themselves at his feet, begging to be his wife!”

“Who said I wanted to be his wife?” I exclaimed.

“I saw the way he was looking at you! And you were looking back,” he accused. “Nefer—”

“Nefertari,” I corrected, and I could see that Asha was hurt.

“Nefertari,” he repeated indignantly. “I have always been like a brother to you. And so has Ramesses. To change that relationship now would be to risk great danger.”

“I don’t see why,” I lied.

“Then think of Iset! Of Henuttawy! The High Priestess instructs Iset in everything she does. You would be making enemies of all of the women who want Ramesses for themselves. Why sleep in a bed of scorpions, when you could marry a nobleman and live in peace? Your mother was forced to become Pharaoh Horemheb’s wife, and she hated it every day she drew breath.”

“How do you know that?” I demanded angrily.

Asha gave me a look. “You know it as well as I do! So why follow in her path?”

But Asha was cut off when Ramesses recognized the emissary from Mitanni. Although the Hittite empire had crushed their kingdom, the Mitanni people still had their own leaders, and there always smoldered a hope of rebellion. I watched as Ramesses strode ahead. I tried to avoid Asha’s interrogating gaze, since I already knew the answer to his question. Why follow in her path? Because unlike my mother, I was in love.

“You are Kikkuli of Mitanni?” Ramesses asked.

The fat man paused in his conversation with an emissary from Assyria. “Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed his head, and the Assyrian emissary did the same.