Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3) (8 page)

A soft “ahh” of understanding escapes his lips and Nehi clears his throat before explaining in hushed tones. “Basically, it says that Pharaoh is marrying you on the understanding that your union will bear forth a male heir within a year’s time. If you do not produce an heir, or should you bear a daughter, Pharaoh has the right to dissolve the marriage if he so chooses. You will then be stripped of your title as Queen of Egypt and sent back to your family, though any female children you produce will stay as part of the royal family here in the palace.”

“Is that all?”

“Even if you do not produce a male heir, you and your family may keep the dowry that Pharaoh is providing to you and your father.”

“Dowry?”

Nehi motions to the jewelry set out on the table behind them. “The dowry includes everything you see in this room. More is being sent to your father’s home today as well.”

Aniya releases a gasp of disbelief as she looks around the room. All of this is hers even if she can not bear a son for Pharaoh. No matter what happens, her family will never want for anything ever again. The heavy weight of agreeing to marry Pharaoh rolls off her shoulders as she realizes this.

One of the servant girls holds Aniya’s wedding dress across her arms and approaches. “My queen,” she says, “It’s time to prepare.” The male servants leave the room and only the women are left behind to help assist the new queen. Nehi rolls the papyrus back into a scroll and turns to leave.

“Nehi,” Aniya calls out as he steps away, “can you wait for me? There is something I must ask you.”

A crooked smile forms on his lips. “Yes my queen. I will wait for you.”

As the door closes behind him, the servants descend on Aniya and begin to prepare her for the marriage ceremony.

Nehi sighs as he leans against the wall outside Aniya’s chamber. He ignores the piercing look the sentries give him as they guard the queen’s door. He’d run if he could. He’d run away and never look back, but it wouldn’t do any good. Rahotep would simply call him back and punish him again for trying to run.

The Vizier had punished him enough last night. Although Nehi couldn’t remember the details of the ritual, he still felt the pain of it. Rahotep had filled Nehi with so much magic that his skin still burned as if the sun had scorched him. But even that physical pain can’t compete with the pain in his heart. Unable to pinpoint the moment when he fell in love with Aniya, he wonders if it might have been when she saved him from the crocodile, or maybe when she looked at him with wonder as she used the magic she drew from him. Maybe he fell in love with her as he plucked straw from her hair as he tried to help her escape. Or perhaps it was simply the culmination of all those moments together that caused him to love Aniya, but it didn’t matter in the end. She could never be his.

Nehi rubs his hand against the flesh of his arm where his skin had touched hers for a few moments. It’s still warm. Aniya didn’t seem to notice the magic she drew out of him. He’d barely noticed it himself. It felt almost as natural as breathing to share the magic with her. How would she use it? Would she show Pharaoh what she could do? Would she use it to escape? Part of him hopes so, and yet the thought of never seeing her again is nearly as crushing as watching her prepare to marry Pharaoh.

Get ahold of yourself. You just met the girl a few days ago. You were only trying to help her escape Rahotep’s fate -- which you did. Besides, she only thinks of you as a friend. And why shouldn’t she? She’s about to marry the Pharaoh.

Nehi blows out a heavy sigh, rolls back his shoulders and stands tall as he waits for her. It isn’t long before she’s ready.

Servants pour out of her room and make way for the new queen. If he didn’t know it was Aniya, he wouldn't recognize her. She seems to glide on air as delicate pleats of a diaphanous gown float around her every step. The dress is so finely woven it shows the curves of Aniya’s nakedness underneath. A belt of jewel-encrusted gold encircles her waist and dangles precious stones to her knees while a heavy necklace of gold and lapis lazuli hangs from her shoulders and covers most of her chest. The jewelry serves to provide a measure of modesty, but also demonstrates Pharaoh’s vast wealth. He’s paid dearly for his bride.

Nehi finds he cannot tear his eyes away from her face. The meticulously drawn kohl outlining her eyes makes them appear even larger and more innocent than normal. But at the same time, she looks every bit a Queen of Egypt. Golden threads intertwine braided hair of the blackest black, and a crown of golden feathers encircles her head.

“How do I look?” she asks. He doesn’t miss the tremble in her voice. She must be terrified.

“Like Egypt’s Queen,” he answers.

“The third queen,” she says with a tight tilt to her mouth. “Don’t forget that.”

“You are third to no one,” he says sincerely. “Don’t forget that.”

The smirk drops off her face at his serious words and she studies his face. Nehi feels heat rise in his cheeks and he clears his throat. “Come, we should head to the banquet. Pharaoh is waiting to celebrate your union. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Nehi gestures with his arm and bows, allowing the new queen to lead the way for the moment. He makes sure to always stay a half step behind her as they walk through the palace. He is no longer her equal. It’s best he get used to it quickly.

“Nehi,” Aniya says, turning her head to look back at him, “thank you for waiting for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you, my queen,” he answers and immediately regrets the words that pop out of his mouth without thinking.

Aniya gives him an odd look as if she’s trying to piece together a puzzle, but the look slips away as an expression of worry takes over her face. “Yesterday, I used the last of the magic you gave me on Pharaoh,” she whispers. “I told him to help me. I was wondering if the magic will somehow stop. Will he suddenly decide that a peasant girl isn’t fit to be his bride?”

Nehi considers the question as they walk and slips his hand under his belt. When he removes his hand, a thin, golden circle is in his palm. “You made this the other day,” he says. “A single golden reed.”

“What did you do to it?” she asks as he lays it in her hand.

Nehi grins with embarrassment. “I tried to weave it for you. I know I didn’t do a particularly good job. Certainly not as good as you could do on your worst day, but it’s for you.”

“It’s the finest piece of jewelry I own,” she says and slides the ring on her finger. “Thank you.”

“For as long as that ring remains gold, your magic will hold. As for me, I think that ring will always be gold. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Before he’s ready, they reach the doors to the marriage banquet. The retinue of servants enter first to prepare the way for the new queen. Aniya looks up at him, and for a moment seems as if she is about to embrace him before she decides better of it and gives him only a small smile. He doesn’t miss the sadness behind the smile, but can only guess what it is for.

He bows to her one last time, and gives her an encouraging nod before he turns his back to her. The last of the servants to announce her arrival, Nehi walks through doors of the banquet. The undeniable rush of his magic being returned to him accompanies his steps. The magic flows from Aniya back to him gentle and sweet like a kiss.

Dignitaries, noblemen, royalty from other nearby nations all rise as Aniya enters the room. With shoulders back and head raised high, she makes her way down the long aisle leading to Pharaoh’s throne and kneels down before her husband. Prostrate on the marble floor, she waits for him to come down from the throne and accept her as his own.

Akhenaten stands and descends the steps until he is level with the whole assembly. He reaches down and grasps Aniya’s hands in his, pulling her up beside him. They stand there a moment, her hands grasped in his as they look into each other’s eyes.

Aniya searches his face for approval. Does he still want her? Will all of this come crashing down around her? The thought makes her heart beat even faster. Akhenaten smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazes at her.

“Aniya, will you become a queen to Egypt? Will you be mine?” he asks her. His smile seems genuine, if not a little certain that he already knows the answer she will give him.

“I belong to Egypt, and now I belong to you,” she answers. “I am yours for as long as you will have me, my lord.”

Akhenaten’s smile deepens and he kisses her hands. She returns the gesture, and he leads her up the stairs to the throne set high above the assembled guests, as if they were truly the gods looking down on Egypt.

Aniya sits down on the golden chair made comfortable with the pelts of wild animals and looks down on the gathering of people before her. Hundreds of men and women sit and stare up at her. She smiles at them and hopes they can not see how nervous she is. Pharaoh raises an arm and announces for the feast to begin. Music pours forth from several pockets in the room and within moments a barrage of servants bring trays heaping with food and begin to tip pitchers of the finest wines.

A receiving line forms as noblemen and women come to bear their gifts and congratulations to the queen. When the line finally dissipates, Aniya takes in the room. Her husband is deep in talk with his advisors. Rahotep is with them. The high priest stares at her but says nothing. Aniya can’t help wonder what designs he may have for her. Her gaze travels around the room and lights on the other two queens of Egypt. Kiya is laughing and talking with a group of women sitting near her. She’s clearly enjoying the festivities. Aniya looks to the other side of the room and catches Nefertiti, the Great Royal Wife, staring at her. Although the queen is surrounded by a throng of sycophants vying for attention, her cool manner sets her apart. She takes a drink of wine, her gaze firmly fixed on Aniya. Nefertiti’s demeanor isn’t hostile, but is impassive and cold. A shiver runs up Aniya’s spine and she looks away.

Desperate for a friendly face, she finds Nehi standing to the side of the room watching her. She smiles at him and he lifts a glass to her. She returns the gesture and wishes for a moment to transcend the space that separates them. A servant brings her a plate of sumptuous delicacies, most she has never seen before, much less eaten. She takes the plate and looks for Nehi’s face again in the crowd, but he has disappeared.

The revelry lasts long into the night. With a stomach full of wine and rich food, Aniya finds her eyes drooping and tries to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand.

“It’s very late, my Queen,” Akhenaten’s voice whispers to her.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she says, her eyes fluttering open.

“No need, my dear. I’ll have servants take you back to your room so you can get some rest.”

“Thank you,” she says, unable to suppress another yawn. She’s eager to find herself in the comfort of her chambers and sleeping in her own bed.

“I’ll have your attendants bring you to me when I’m ready,” he murmurs in her ear.

Heat rises in her cheeks and she’s sure he can see the blush on her face. “Yes, my lord.” She’s suddenly much more alert.

She’s escorted to her room to rest, and while she could barely keep herself awake during the banquet, the thought of being brought to Pharaoh’s bedchambers makes it impossible to sleep now. Aniya tosses and turns in the gigantic bed until she can no longer stand it. Still in the gossamer gown, though all the glittering jewels have been placed carefully away, she walks through her room to an adjoining courtyard and garden.

The moon has not yet risen and its absence makes the stars shimmer all the more brightly in the velvety, onyx sky. The air is perfumed with the budding flowers adorning the walls of the garden. Jasmine and hyssop mingle together in a slight, warm breeze from the desert, and the branches of a willow tree sway in the warm wind. Aniya ignores the many benches and stools set around the garden and instead sinks to the ground next to the willow and lies on the soft grass of garden. The long, trailing branches dance against the sky and before long, their gentle rhythm lulls Aniya to sleep.

The moon is just rising on the horizon when her servants wake her from a deep sleep. “My Queen, the Pharaoh calls for you,” one says.

Aniya nods and follows them back inside where ladies-in-waiting help her ready to meet her husband. Oil perfumed with cloves and cinnamon are rubbed into her skin before a thin, white robe of shimmering fabric is draped around her body. At last, a few delicate pieces of jewelry are fastened around her neck and wrists and a thin crown of gold is placed on her head.

“Are you ready, my Queen?” a servant asks.

Not trusting her voice to crack, Aniya nods and walks through the door.

The walk through the palace is longer than she expected. Aniya is led through a maze of halls and passages before finally arriving at Pharaoh’s own chambers. A host of guards stands outside the doors and moves to the side as the door is opened and she’s permitted entrance. A second and third set of doors are opened for her as she moves closer to the heart of the Pharaoh’s private room. Finally, she reaches the fourth and final set of doors guarded by only four men. Her stomach lurches as they are opened and the guards bow before her.