The Golden Queen

Eight

"You were listening in on our meeting," he murmured.

"I couldn't help it, Your Majesty. I've been uneasy since you received news from your scout this morning. I'm afraid of war," I confessed. If Ahmose died tonight and I became Pharaoh of Egypt, how could I lead the country to war against Canaan? In college, I couldn't even lead the academic team to victory over the opposing school, let alone an entire army into battle. I was not a leader.

"I trust you," he replied. "When you become pharaoh, you will make the right decision." Thutmosis had great influence over the court. He wanted to march to Megiddo and crush the rebellion, but Ahmose wanted to let them go. I tried to recall what had happened in history...

"Egypt will never have a greater pharaoh than you. I will never be worthy of your crown, though it matters not because you are not going to die," I whispered, grasping his hand. "You must believe you will survive this. You have to fight to stay alive."

"You must be an oracle then, sent by the goddess Isis to protect Egypt. Have you come to take me into the afterlife?"

"No, I am not an oracle either. I am just a human being like you. I have no magical powers," I answered.

"You are so strange..." he whispered. "If you are not connected to the gods, then how did you know how to treat my wound?"

I wondered whether or not I should tell him the truth. How much harm could it possibly do now? Ahmose was growing weaker with each moment that passed, and seemed to be dying anyway. He was certainly in no shape to go parading around ancient Egypt, shouting the medical wonders of the twenty-first century to everyone. I sighed in defeat.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I replied miserably.

"You've fully recovered your memory," he gasped and his eyes lighted as he examined my face. "You know who you are and where you came from. You must tell me your story. I don't want to die without knowing where you came from. Please tell me... You tried to help me; I see it in your eyes. You took the platter from me, tried to open it first so I would not be harmed. I want to know who you really are."

"I never lost my memory," I replied. Ahmose's gaze never wavered, but the light in his eyes diminished at the realization of who I really was; I was a liar.

"Why have you deceived me?" he demanded. His face shifted between volatile emotions. He was hurt, believing I intended to make a fool of him; he was empathic, declaring I'd had no other choice in order to justify my deception. His question hung in the air, insisting on an explanation when he said no more.

"How can I tell you?" I asked, questioning myself more than him. "How can I tell you all that has happened to me and expect you to believe me, when I don't understand it myself?" I brushed his arm with my fingertips.

Ahmose remained quiet as his amber eyes stared into mine, as if to touch my soul.

"I am not a magical being, but I am not from this world either. Everything you know, as it is now, in my world, is not to be. I am from another time, the future; years upon years, upon years from now," I said finally. Ahmose sunk back into his pillow as he processed my words. His forehead creased with vexation.

He must have believed I really thought he was a fool. Time traveling was the most absurd explanation I could have ever given him. And I wouldn't blame him if he didn't believe me.

"You traveled through...time..." he repeated.

"I don't expect you to believe me," I whispered. "Sometimes I can't believe any of this is real. But it must be real because I can vividly feel your hand against me."