the last time you went?” I demanded, and she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. “Do you even know where Amun’s shrine is?” I challenged.
“Of course. In the garden.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to come. You’re Queen of Egypt.”
“And you visit every day. You make my offerings for me. I’m too tired.”
“To thank Amun?”
“He knows that I’m thankful. Now leave me alone.”
So I went into the gardens by myself, as I had every morning since our arrival in Thebes, and picked a crop of flowers to place at Amun’s feet. I took only the choicest flowers: irises as purple as deep summer’s night, and hibiscus with petals like bloodred stars. When I was finished at the shrine, it was still quite early, and only servants were out in the gardens, watering the tamarinds with their heavy earthen bowls. Nefertiti was certain to still be asleep, so I walked to my parents’ courtyard. My mother would be awake, placing offerings at Hathor’s feet.
As I moved through the palace, I enjoyed the silence. Cats crept through the halls, sleek black with bronze eyes, but they took no notice of me. They were hunting for the remains of last night’s dinner, a half-eaten honeyed fig dropped by a servant or a delicious morsel of roasted gazelle. I reached my mother’s courtyard and found her sitting in the garden, reading a scroll with a familiar wax seal.
“News from Akhmim!” she announced brightly when she saw me. The morning sun gilded the new lapis collar that she was wearing.
I walked eagerly to her bench and took a seat. “And what does the overseer say?” I asked.
“Your garden is doing well.”
I thought of my jujube with its ginger-colored fruit and the beautiful hibiscus I had planted last spring. I would not be there to see any of it ripen. “And what else?”
“The grapes are growing fast. The overseer says that in Shemu this vintage could produce sixty barrels.”
“Sixty! Will they send them on to Memphis?”
“Certainly. And I asked for my linen shifts to be sent as well. I forgot them in the rush to pack.”
We smiled at each other in the pale light of the courtyard, both thinking about Akhmim. Only her smile was wider and more innocent, because my father kept from her the things he couldn’t keep from me, and she didn’t see that we’d traded security for worry.
“So tell me about Nefertiti,” she said. “Is she happy?” She rolled up the scroll, tucking it into her sleeve.
“As happy as she can be. He did go to Kiya last night.” I settled against the cool stone bench and sighed. “So, we are leaving for Memphis.”
My mother nodded. “Amunhotep will only grow restless here, waiting for the Elder to die. Perhaps not even waiting,” she added ominously.
I glanced at her sharply. “You don’t think he would hasten the Elder’s death?”
My mother looked across the courtyard, but we were alone. “There is talk he sent Tuthmosis to an early burial. But that is just talk,” she added quickly. “Servants’ gossip.”
“Except that servants are usually right,” I whispered.
She lost some of her coloring. “Yes.”
That night we took our meal in the Great Hall, but much of the court was absent, attending a funeral for the emissary to Rhodes. Both Queen Tiye and my father had gone, while the Elder remained at the palace with his wine and women. That night the Elder was in a particularly vulgar mood, singing and belching with abandon. I saw him grab one of the servant’s breasts while she reached to replenish his wine, and when Nefertiti sat down to her husband’s left he suggested she might want to sit near him instead. She declined without a word, and I flushed on her behalf, so Pharaoh turned to me. “Then perhaps I might have the company tonight of the green-eyed sister.”
“Enough!” Amunhotep banged his fist on the table. The courtiers turned to us to see what was happening. “The Sister of the King’s Chief Wife is perfectly fine where she is.”
The Elder lowered his wine threateningly and stood, sending his chair clattering to the floor. “No weak-stomached son of mine will ever command me!” he shouted, reaching for his sword, but as he stepped forward his feet gave out beneath him. He crashed to the tiles, hazy with wine, and a dozen servants rushed to his aid. “No son of mine will teach me manners!” he raged.
Amunhotep jumped to his feet, commanding the servants, “Take him out of here! He is