Chapter 6

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As the moon reached its pinnacle in the sky, so did the amber liquid of Egypt continue to be poured into chalices, the delicate wine from Pharaoh's vineyards continue to be vigorously consumed. Both continued to flow like the eternal waters of the Nile, and as the night grew darker the grand partygoers almost drained every amphora in storage.

Everyone was loud and merry, and for the first time in her life, Malawashina was, in effect, inebriated. The table had long been cleared of their feast and now dancers flipped and spun across its expanse for their jovial entertainment as the musicians arduously played tune after tune.

"So, my kind minister," Malawashina called over all the noise, then almost forgetting what she had begun to say as a dancer flipped past them.

"Yes, princess?" He looked directly at her now, catching her amethyst gaze as she blinked and refocused her attention.

"Oh, yes," she took another long draught of beer before she continued. "Do tell me, for I am dying to know. Who is prettier?" Once again her eyes drifted as a dancer with sparkling jewels on her sash span by. The minister could not help but chuckle silently to himself. He could very well see how rosy-cheeked the princess had become.

"Who is prettier?" He repeated, amused.

She quickly snapped her head back to look at him, her smile as bright as the braziers that lit up the room. Her eyes narrowed onto him and her smile slid into a grin of the most flirtatious type. "Who is prettier, my dear minister? You, or your brother, the Pharaoh?"

"Well," he decided to indulge her. It was all rather amusing, in all honesty. "My brother is the one with the most wives."

"Oh, you are too modest!" Malawashina laughed, slapping the minister's arm playfully. Yet, her touch made him stiffen, and he cleared his throat. Alas, she was not finished there as she then ran a finger down his bicep. "I love how lean and muscular you Egyptians are. Not like our Hatti men, on the edge of being... fat."

The minister looked at her, wide-eyed. "Princess..." His voice was low then, as he wished to warn her that other ears may be listening. Yet, she drew herself closer, and her sparkling eyes leered at him amorously.

"I have heard that men in your country shave. Literally not a hair on your bodies. Is this true?"

Those emerald jewels of his fixated on her as the heat rose in his own cheeks. How could he not indulge her now? Her scents of myrrh and jasmine were intoxicating.

"I do have my eyebrows, do I not?"

"Well... yes, but..."

He leant in then, close enough that his lips almost brushed her ear. Yet, he did not dare touch her. "You will just have to wait to see for yourself, you naughty little cat."

With those words, he sat back up in his seat and motioned to the Syrian to refill his chalice, as the poor princess beside him gawked at his response.

That damned Syrian and her perky melons! Malawashina felt that pang of jealousy once more as the minister smiled at the servant again in thanks. Pushing her own breasts together, and shifting her drooping neckline down further to reveal her own cleavage, she leant towards him again. "How do you think you Egyptians will like our Hatti curves?"As she leant closer still, pushing her cleavage even more so, someone took her shoulder and pulled her back.

Puduhepa, her esteemed mother, smiled at the minister apologetically before looking down at her daughter with an affectionately stern expression. "My dear, I think you have had quite enough to drink for one night. One must keep a clear mind for the morning. Now come, let us take you to bed and allow these gentlemen to continue the festivities."

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