more than his words ever could, and I knew that I had made him proud.
“What? What did he say?” Asha asked.
Next to him, Iset had gone still and hard as stone. Her beauty might fascinate men, but it was difficult to charm them when she stood mute as an obelisk.
“He said he would bring back the news of how powerful Egypt’s army has become to his people,” I translated.
Next to Kikkuli, the emissary from Assyria cleared his throat. “And if the Hittites try to reclaim Kadesh?”
Ramesses shook his head. “I apologize, but your Akkadian is one language I cannot speak.”
“He is asking what will happen if the Hittites try to reclaim Kadesh,” I relayed, and turned to the emissary. “Then Egypt will march north with the might of twenty thousand men,” I promised, “and take it back for a second time.”
Ramesses stared at me. “Since when have you spoken Akkadian?”
“Since I’ve been at the Temple of Hathor.”
Ramesses regarded me with deep admiration, and Iset announced, “Look, it’s your aunt!”
I caught Woserit’s gaze across the courtyard, and I knew what was about to happen. When she smiled at Ramesses, my heart raced. “Enjoying the Feast of Wag?” she asked him. “I’m sure you were surprised to see Nefertari.”
“Yes,” he said, and his eyes lingered on mine. Standing beside him, I was aware of how fighting had sculpted him into a man. “Well, Nefertari,” Woserit said. “I believe you still have to visit the mortuary temple in Djamet tonight. Are you ready?”
“Perhaps we can go with you,” Ramesses offered.
But Woserit shook her head. “Nefertari should pay her respects alone.”
Ramesses and Asha both looked at me, as if I could offer them some reversal, but I understood Woserit perfectly. “Ramesses, Asha.” I smiled at each of them. “I very much enjoyed seeing you tonight. Iset,” I acknowledged.
“Will you bid us farewell at the procession?” Ramesses asked quietly.
“What do you mean?” I looked to Asha. “Pharaoh’s army just returned from Kadesh! You’re not going to war again?”
“The Nubians are rebelling. Ramesses is going to teach them a lesson.”
Ramesses nodded, and his eyes were fixed on mine.
“Then we shall see when the time comes whether Nefertari will be there,” Woserit said. “Until then, or perhaps until the next Feast of Wag, wish Nefertari well on the path she has chosen.”
This time, Iset’s smile was real. I followed Woserit dutifully beyond the courtyard, where Merit was waiting with chariots for hire. “Take the princess and her nurse to Horemheb’s mortuary temple in Djamet,” Woserit said.
The young man helped me into the chariot, and as the horses pulled away, I looked behind us. The court had left the mortuary temple, and Ramesses was gone.
“Well, what did he say?” Merit asked.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I said breathlessly. “But he looked different. Older.”
“But what did he say?” she repeated.
“He asked me to speak with the emissary from Mitanni.” I looked at Merit as we sped through the night and wondered aloud, “What if he only values me for my talent?”
“Would it matter, my lady, as long as he’s interested? Your goal is to become Chief Wife.”
“No.” I shook my head in realization. “It’s not. I want him to love me.”
We had reached Djamet, and Horemheb’s temple rose from a vast plateau of sand. Its wide black gates were thrown open, for pilgrims who wished to remember the Pharaoh who had eradicated the Heretic King’s influence. Only members of Seti’s court could visit the temple at any time, but on the first night of Wag the doors of every temple were opened to anyone. Merit brushed the dust from my cloak, then paid the boy who had driven us through the night. Her steps slowed as we approached the heavy gates. On every Feast of Wag, I entered the temple alone, while Merit left to pay obeisance at the small shrine her father had built nearby. “Shall I leave you here?” she asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Of course, you will not talk with anyone,” she warned. “And raise your hood.” She handed me my bowl. “Can you see where you are going?”
“There are reed torches inside. I have good eyes.”
I watched as Merit disappeared into the darkness, then I passed through the gates of Horemheb’s temple. I tried not to think of how it had once been the exclusive shrine to my akhu. It had been built by my grandfather, Pharaoh Ay, but all that was left of him now were the paintings in his tomb, somewhere deep