Chapter 11 #2
King Meryamun reclined in a cushioned, low-backed chair, chatting amiably with another man, who sat opposite him.
Half a dozen women attended to them both, bringing trays of fruit and rubbing their feet and shoulders with oils.
With a jolt, Rae recognized the woman rubbing the pharaoh’s feet.
As if sensing that she was being watched, the woman turned.
When she saw Rae standing there, her heavy-lidded seduction turned to fury.
What are you doing here? Tam mouthed.
Rae’s heart began to race. This was a mistake. I should never have come. I have to leave before—
“Who is that?”
The king had noticed her.
“Ah! Nefermaat’s pet, come to play?” he called out. “I don’t remember inviting you, but seeing as you’ve brought more of my special wine, I’ll allow it.” He beckoned her forward, and Rae had no choice but to obey. She approached them, skirting dancing girls and couples on the floor as she went.
“Get her a cup, will you?” King Meryamun said to Tam. “If she’s to join the party, she must do so properly.”
Tam bowed her head and handed Rae a lotus cup. Nervously, Rae poured herself wine from the jug she was carrying.
“Go on,” he said. “You’re late. You’ll have to catch up with the rest of us.”
The king watched as she lifted the cup to her lips. Rae had never had wine before. Was it supposed to smell like flowers? Eager to stop being the center of attention, she gulped it down as quickly as she could.
Meryamun licked his lips. “Good. Have another and then you can attend to my friend here. Wouldn’t you like a rub from this great strapping girl, Harsi?”
The other man glanced up at her but said nothing.
While she gulped down another cup of wine, Rae took notice of Harsi’s unusually long schenti and green sash, of his square jaw and deep brown face.
He’s not Khetaran. Tashan, maybe? She’d seen similar sashes on men riding boats downriver from Khetara’s southern border.
But why does he look like he’s been in a street fight?
Even in the dim firelight, she could see the skin beneath one of Harsi’s eyes was swollen and purpling and the knuckles of both hands were riddled with cuts.
The pharaoh grinned, toothy and dangerous. “Now, don’t be boring, my prince. Don’t you like the party? I threw it just for you. To get your mind off the unfortunate loss of your companions.” He nodded at Rae.
Mute with helpless rage, Rae sank to her knees, took the Tashan’s foot into her hand, and began massaging it.
“See? Isn’t that nice?” Meryamun said.
Harsi stared at him but didn’t reply.
Meryamun rose from his chair and approached, as languid as a panther. Watching him, Rae began to feel lightheaded. What was in that wine?
The young king sauntered behind Harsi’s chair and bent over him, hands on the Tashan’s shoulders, lips at his ear.
“You want to kill me, don’t you?” Meryamun murmured, soft and sensual.
“You’d like to put a knife in me, or even better, wrap your fingers around my throat and squeeze.
I don’t blame you. Revenge is infinitely more satisfying than a foot massage.
” He glanced down at Rae and tutted. “The lioness doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it any more than you are.
Though I can’t imagine why—you’re quite the handsome specimen.
Not good enough for my sister, but then, who is?
“I must say, I was quite disappointed when my men failed to find her with you. I would have been forced to punish her severely, but at least I’d have her back. Where is that girl?”
He sighed. “Still, you’re not a bad consolation prize. With you as my guest, I’ll have Tash prostrate at my feet soon enough.”
Listening to this speech, Rae felt chilled. If Meryamun is willing to murder Tashan ambassadors on a whim, what will he do to the people of Sakesh?
She needed to act. To get out of that room, find her father, and return home.
But her mind was softening like butter, and though she strained to keep hold of it, her grip on reality loosened with every passing second.
She began to breathe faster as a wave of unwanted yet unstoppable euphoria crashed over her.
The king noticed.
“You see, Harsi?” he said. “The blue lotus tames everyone, even the lioness. You should have some too.” He lifted the wine jar, filled the prince’s cup to the brim, and then held it to the Tashan’s lips.
It was only when Harsi began to struggle that Rae saw the prince’s wrists were tied to the arms of his chair.
“Drink,” Meryamun ordered, tilting the cup until red rivulets spilled from the corners of Harsi’s mouth. “Drink…”
Rae’s head lolled. Suddenly, she was on her back on the floor, with no memory of how she got there.
Above her, the ceiling was painted with stars that glittered, and it felt as if everything in the room—the air, the music, her dress—was made of warm honey that dripped over her body and blocked out every other thought.
Tam’s face appeared before her, a constellation of stars shining around her head like a halo. “For the love of Ra, why did you drink so much?” she whispered.
“Thought I had to… Didn’t you?” Rae’s words were slurred. She reached out to touch Tam’s hair, and its softness was almost too much to bear.
“I pretended to drink, then spit it into a potted plant,” Tam replied.
A shadow fell over them.
“Is this why you weren’t interested in the good prince?” the king asked Rae. He reached down and tangled his fingers in Tam’s curls, then closed his hand into a fist.
Tam’s nostrils flared with pain.
“Well,” he went on, releasing her. “You have excellent taste. Please, don’t let me stop you. I’ll be right here, watching.” He resumed his seat in the chair, and the other women fell over him once more, their hands on his shoulders, his chest, offering plump figs and dates to his lips.
The stars on the ceiling were so bright and golden and beautiful they made Rae want to cry. Some small part of her understood what was going on and roared because she too wanted to put a knife in the king, wanted to tear him apart and taste his blood…
But then the violence melted into desire and made her dizzy. She could see the anxiety in Tam’s face, but Rae couldn’t feel it within herself. All she could feel was the fire on her skin where the weaver’s body melted into hers.
“What…what do I do?” she gasped.
Tam pressed her lips into a thin line, and Rae could see the weaver’s fear twisting itself into resolve. Gently, Tam cupped Rae’s face in her hand and pulled her closer.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” she whispered. “Forget about the king. Forget about the man tied to the chair. Forget the other people around us. Just look at me, do you understand? Look at me, and forget everything else.”
Rae nodded. Then, starving, desperate, she dove headfirst into her lover’s arms.