chest and the tender flesh around his new scar. He cupped my breasts in his hands, feeling the nipples harden beneath my sheath, and he groaned as I licked my way back down to the hardness between his legs.
“Undress for me,” he begged.
I knelt above him, slowly unfastening the cloak, then my sheath, and finally taking off my wig so that my nakedness was covered only by my hair.
“You are even more beautiful than I thought.” Ramesses sighed. I’m sure that I flushed at being called so. Henuttawy was beautiful. Iset was beautiful. But as I straddled him in the position that Aloli promised would increase fertility, I wondered for the first time if it might be true. His breath was ragged, and as I balanced above him, he thrust his hips forward in his eagerness to be inside of me.
I had dreamed of what it would be like with Ramesses a hundred different times. Yet when the moment came, everything that Aloli had taught me flew out of my head and I knew nothing but the feel of his body against mine, the taste of his skin, and the burning sensation that began as pain and soon became pleasure. When it was done, and Ramesses had spent himself inside of me, I looked down at the linens. I was no longer a virgin.
In the amber light of a setting sun, Ramesses caressed my cheek. Our reverie was only broken when a heavy fist pounded on the door outside of his chamber. He looked at me, and then both of us were rushing to find our clothes.
“Your Majesty,” someone called from without. “The feast has begun and Pharaoh wishes to know where you are!”
“How long has he been knocking?” I exclaimed.
“Probably for a while!” Ramesses laughed, then took me in his arms. “You must move back into your chamber,” he said. “No more of the temple.”
“I shall have to ask Woserit,” I said coyly.
“Forget Woserit! If I make you my wife, she can’t take you back. I need you here.” He cupped my breast in his palm. “I want you here.”
“And they want you in the Great Hall,” I said teasingly.
EVERY NIGHT since he had been married, Ramesses had entered the Great Hall with Iset. But that night, on the celebration of his first victory as leader of Pharaoh’s army, he would enter with me and everyone would know where he had been. From the table on the dais, Henuttawy would see us, and Iset would turn to her ladies from the harem and unleash a storm.
Be brave, I told myself. Iset is the granddaughter of a harem wife but I am the daughter of a queen. We left the royal courtyard as the chill of evening had settled over the palace. I sheltered beneath Ramesses’s strong arm, and as we passed through the halls the whispering began. I heard my name behind me and I shivered.
“You’ll grow used to it,” Ramesses promised.
“The whispering or the cold?”
He laughed, but as we approached the Great Hall and the herald who would announce our presence, my stomach clenched. I could already hear the murmur of surprise from within.
“Pharaoh Ramesses II,” the herald declared, “Lord of the Two Lands and son of Pharaoh Seti.”
Ramesses stepped forward and waited for me.
“Princesses Nefertari, daughter of Queen Mutnodjmet and General Nakhtmin.”
Ramesses took my arm, and as we moved through the hall a horrified murmur passed through the court, that on this night—of all nights—Ramesses should appear with me instead of his wife, who would bear his child. I caught my name several times before we reached the royal thrones, and at the table on the dais, a servant hastily added a chair between Pharaoh Seti and Ramesses. Iset’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and next to her, Queen Tuya’s face became hard as stone. Her iwiw, Adjo, sniffed at the air, and though there was no one else in Thebes he seemed to dislike he raised his lips in a silent growl as I passed.
I took my seat in the uncomfortable silence, and it was Queen Tuya who finally spoke. “How nice of you to escort the princess Nefertari into the Great Hall. I would have thought you might have chosen to escort your wife.”
Woserit caught my gaze across the table, and I knew that she was willing her strength into me. I kept a smile on my face and replied, “I’m afraid it is my fault, Your Highness.”