The Golden Queen

Ten

Later, the servant girl returned to help me dress. The robe I chose to wear was white with golden patterns sewn around the trims, lying off one shoulder while wrapping around the other. I was very meticulous in choosing which jewelry to wear, wanting to appear grateful for them but not overdo it. I slipped my arm into a golden ornament; the band circled my forearm with its elegant spirals. Then I slipped a golden bracelet on the same arm, and the silver lotus ring on the opposite hand. The servant brushed my hair while I did this, her fingers gentle but diligent. I glanced at her reflection in the mirror of my vanity. Her warm caramel eyes were focused, and her lips were pulled into a thin line. I recalled my nightmare as I watched her, remembering how pale her face had been, and the little boy she had clutched in her arms. I had seen her with a small child around in the palace. Was he her son? She didn't appear to be much older than me. She could have even been younger than me. But this was the ancient past, and girls could become mothers as early as their first cycle.

The servant girl caught my gaze in the mirror, realizing I had been watching her, and averted her eyes back to my hair. I wanted to say something to her, but I had tried speaking to her before, and she could not understand Latin. I drew in a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. My hair tumbled over my shoulders as she parted the back for the carnelian hairclip.

I was so nervous by the time I was ready, my stomach ached, begging to purge its acidic contents. I was expecting to be led to the banquet hall by my sweet servant, but when we stepped into the corridor, a sensual voice suddenly murmured my name, and I looked beyond the dark passages to find Ahmose.

He came from the shadows to greet me, dressed in a splendid white kilt and a leopard hide draped over his bare chest. "Good evening," he murmured, and lifted my hand to kiss it tenderly. His golden brown eyes peered at me from behind thick kohl lining. He was so beautiful I nearly forgot how to speak.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," I replied, my eyes trailing shyly to his broad chest. He offered me his strong arm, and I took it gratefully, holding it to keep myself from falling over my jittery legs.

"It is nice to see you," he murmured. My stomach was aching, and my spine was tingling.

We walked to the banquet hall together, the guards trailing behind us alongside quiet servants. Even before we stepped inside, the lively voices alerted me of the crowd within. My stomach cried even more like a frantic child, and I tried calming it by focusing on something else. Subconsciously, I gripped Ahmose's arm. He must have sensed my unease.

"You are tense," he said warmly, placing his hand over my trembling fingers.

"I am afraid of large crowds," I confessed.

"I am sorry, I was unaware of that. But I am delighted you have joined me this evening," he spoke so only I could hear.

"Thank you," I replied, holding tenderly to his muscled arm. Ahmose wanted me here, and that was all that really mattered. I stepped into the crowded room on Pharaoh's arm.

Sweet perfume and fragrances filled the air, as well as the heavy scent of alcohol. I passed awkwardly through the crowd, noticing how elegant everyone looked in their rich clothes and jewelry, as if I was walking straight through time.

Everyone appeared to be so happy-at first. Many of the men began looking my way, their offended wives sneering at me. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead, careful not to notice any of them. I didn't want enemies tonight.

The room was so loud with all of their voices; so many people were gathered here in this room, but hushed as they began looking our way. The faces that peered at us as we passed by were strange and unfamiliar. And I felt so miniscule compared to Ahmose, a majestic and unearthly king, whom all the passersby fell beside in deep bows.