The Golden Queen

Twenty Eight

Twenty Eight

I lay in bed alone, curled up so tightly in my sheets they clung to me like a second skin. My head throbbed painfully. I wasn't sure what had caused the headache, though for three days I evaded Ahmose. Each and every time we bumped into each other during the day as we went about our own business, his eyes pleaded I give him an answer soon. I had none to give him. I needed more time to consider all the consequences, both the good and the bad ones.

I raised my hand above my face to examine the ring. Its polished golden surface glinted in the moonlight. The encrusted wings twinkled from the array of precious gems that adorned them. Its oval amber body shone beautifully as I tilted it into the white light.

Though I had come to accept that my life in the twenty-first century was over, I could not forget I the era I had been born and raised in, no matter how comfortable and familiar ancient Egypt became. The twenty-first century was an age in which marriage was a sacred union between only two people. Did the same code of ethics apply here? Could he wed multiple wives in his lifetime? Could I marry another man after him?

My stomach coiled unbearably at the thought of him being with someone other than me; of sharing a kiss with another woman. As King of Egypt, Ahmose would eventually need an heir to pass his crown to. I was anxious about becoming a wife, but the thought of motherhood filled me with terror. There were many things I wanted to accomplish before settling down with someone, but now that the future was lost, my dreams of becoming a doctor would forever be unfulfilled.

I could make new dreams with him, but what if I was unable to fulfill what he needed of me? Would he turn to other women?

The thought of being discarded like a soiled garment made my belly lunged again, and I had to curl into a fetal position to suppress the bile that burned at the back of my throat.

The Egyptians had documented their splendid history with great detail, along with tales of Pharaoh's harem. Pharaohs loved having many wives and mistresses, for innumerable sons and spoils of royalty.

My door opened with a gentle creak, and I wiped my blurry eyes to find Ahmose peer down at me with gentle eyes. He leaned down to take my hand in his and whispered, "I didn't mean to disturb you. I thought you were sleeping."

His gentle hand wound through my hair and over my shoulder. He was wearing a golden kilt with a jeweled sash around his waist. His beaded collar twinkled in the moonlight like his crown.

I sat up. "I'm glad you're here," I replied evenly. "I have been thinking, and I cannot sleep until I have spoken what is on my mind." My throat tightened.

My hands fidgeted nervously in my lap. I grasped his hand and squeezed it, trying to find comfort in his warm palm.

"It is all right if you do not want to marry me," he said.

I gazed into his amber eyes as they grew dark and somber. "I don't understand what a marriage to you will mean for me."

I got up and paced the room nervously, coming to the window to gaze out at the night sky. I sensed his eyes probing my back, trying to gaze into my heart.

I drew in a deep breath. "If we marry one another, and I become your wife, will I be cherished for the rest of our lives?"

He came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "I already cherish you more than my own life," he whispered into my hair.

I turned around and looked up into his eyes. I blinked away the tears that betrayed my brave composure. "Pharaoh is permitted to have as many wives as he pleases. This may be Egypt, but I come from the twenty-first century. My pride will not allow me to marry a man if I will not be his only wife."