Nefertiti - By Michelle Moran Page 0,8

as graceful as Nefertiti, Your Majesty.”

My mother nodded approvingly. I had turned the conversation to the reason the queen had come to Akhmim, and we all looked to my sister, who tried not to glow.

“She is beautiful, Ay. More of her mother, I think, than you.”

My father laughed. “And gifted. She can sing. And dance.”

“But is she clever?”

“Of course. And she has strength.” His voice lowered meaningfully. “She will be able to guide his passions and control him.”

My aunt looked at Nefertiti again, wondering if this was true.

“But she must be Chief Wife if she is to marry him,” he added. “Then she will direct his interests away from Aten, back to Amun and to politics that are less dangerous.”

The queen turned directly to my sister. “What do you say to all this?” she asked.

“I will do what is commanded of me, Your Majesty. I will entertain the prince and give him children. And I will be an obedient servant of Amun.” Her eyes met mine, and I lowered my head to keep from smiling.

“Of Amun,” the queen repeated thoughtfully. “If only my son had so much sense.”

“She is the strongest willed of my two children,” my father said. “If anyone can sway him, it would be her.”

“And Kiya is weak,” the queen conceded. “She cannot do the job. He wanted to make her Chief Wife, but I wouldn’t allow it.”

My father promised, “Once he sees Nefertiti, he will forget about Kiya.”

“Kiya’s father is a vizier,” my aunt said warningly. “He will be displeased that I chose your daughter over his.”

My father shrugged. “It’s to be expected. We are family.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the queen stood up. “So the matter is settled.”

I heard Nefertiti’s delighted intake of breath. It was over as quickly as it had begun. The queen walked down the dais, a small but indomitable figure, and the cat followed her on the end of a golden leash. “I hope she lives up to your promise, Ay. It is the future of Egypt that is at stake,” she warned darkly.

For three days servants rushed from room to room, packing linens and clothes and small jewelry into baskets. There were half-empty chests lying open everywhere, with vessels of alabaster, glass, and pottery waiting to be wrapped and put inside. My father supervised the move with visible pleasure. Nefertiti’s marriage meant we would all move to live in Malkata Palace in Thebes with him, and he would get to see more of us now.

“Mutny, stop standing around,” my mother admonished. “Find something to do.”

“Nefertiti’s standing around,” I tattled. My sister was at the other end of the room, trying on clothes and holding up pieces of glass jewelry.

“Nefertiti,” my mother snapped, “there will be enough time to stand in front of the mirror at Malkata.”

Nefertiti heaved dramatically, then took an armful of gowns and tumbled them into a basket. My mother shook her head, and my sister went out to supervise the loading of her seventeen chests. We could hear her in the courtyard, telling a slave to be careful, that her baskets were worth more than we’d paid for him. I looked over at my mother, who sighed. It hadn’t become real that my sister would be queen.

It would change everything.

We would leave Akhmim behind. We’d keep the villa, but who knew if we’d ever see it again. “Do you think we’ll ever come back?” I asked.

My mother straightened. I saw her look at the pools that my sister and I had played in as children, then out at our family’s shrine to Amun. “I hope so,” she answered. “We’ve been a family here. It’s our home.”

“But now Thebes will be our home.”

She drew a heavy breath. “Yes. It’s what your father wants. And your sister.”

“Is it what you want?” I asked quietly.

Her eyes turned to the room she shared with my father. She missed him terribly when he was gone. Now she would be near him. “I want to be with my husband,” she admitted, “and I want opportunities for my children.” We both looked at Nefertiti, commanding the servants in the courtyard. “She will be monarch of Egypt,” my mother said, a little in awe. “Our Nefertiti, only fifteen years old.”

“And me?”

My mother smiled, the lines on her face coming together. “And you will be Sister of the King’s Chief Wife. That’s no small thing.”

“But who will I marry?”

“You’re only thirteen!” she exclaimed, and a shadow crossed her face. I was the only child the

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