Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3) (9 page)

At first her feet don’t want to move. It takes a moment before she can force herself forward. The doors close behind her and Aniya makes her way into the cavernous room. Columns painted in colorful hieroglyphs give way to darkness as they tower up to the ceiling. A trail of torches lights her way and Aniya follows the path to the center of the room and to her husband. Akhenaten stands waiting for her with open arms before a raised four poster bed hidden behind gauzy veils of fabric.

The Pharaoh takes her hands in his and Aniya realizes how cold her fingers are against his warm flesh. He smiles at her, and again his smile seems to reach up into his eyes that crinkle with warmth.

“You look beautiful,” he says and places a hand to her cheek with a gentle stroke.

“Thank you,” she replies. “So do you.” And he does. Her husband is handsome, tall, with broad shoulders and a muscled chest beneath bronzed skin. Although he is ten harvests or more her senior, he still has the physique of a much younger man.

An image of Nehi flashes through her mind, and Aniya’s breath catches.

No. You’ve made your choice. Put him from your mind.

“I know you must be nervous,” Akhenaten says, “but I promise I will be gentle.”

“My only wish is to please my husband,” Aniya answers, and wills the words to be true.

“You already do,” he says and lowers his lips to hers.

It is the sickness in the early hours of the morning several weeks later that first warns Aniya that she is with child. Nevertheless, the high priest is summoned to ascertain her condition and divine that she is truly carrying a son. Rahotep is joined by several apprentices, including Nehi. Although Aniya glances at him throughout the ritual examination, Nehi’s eyes meet hers only once. He doesn’t smile, and looks away. Aniya tries to hide the hurt she feels as her friend ignores her, but Pharaoh notices her downcast expression. He takes her aside for a private moment. “Are you worried, my dear?”

“Worried?”

“You look so distressed.”

Aniya recovers her composure and answers, “I only wish to please you and provide you with an heir, my lord.”

Akhenaten pulls her into his arms and holds her. “Don’t let that worry you. I know the Vizier foretold that you would bear a son, and the marriage agreement stipulates a year for that to happen, but know that I have no plans to leave you, Aniya. Even if Rahotep’s divination is wrong, you are my wife, and I want you with me.”

Aniya settles into his embrace and hopes that she will not have to put the Pharaoh’s promise to the test.

“All seems well my lord, Pharaoh,” Rahotep says when the examination is over. “Both mother and child are faring well.”

“And is it it truly a boy? Will I have a son?”

“It is as the One God has foretold.”

Nehi walks quickly through the palace toward the queen’s chambers. He’d meant to visit with her more often, but Rahotep has kept him so busy that there was rarely any time left to give to her. Plus, his increasing discomfort with his lingering feelings for the queen caused him to find reasons to avoid her. It has been nearly a full harvest since Aniya married the Pharaoh, but it still feels like a punch to the gut every time he sees them together. He hasn’t seen a glimpse of her for many days, though he’s been quick to listen whenever anyone shared news of her condition. The most recent news was that she would give birth any day. He wanted to see her once more before that happened. Nehi looks down at the item clenched in his hand. He has a gift for her.

He quickens his pace through the halls and stops abruptly when he hears screams echo off the palace walls. Pinpricks of fear cover his flesh as he recognizes the voice. Aniya. Nehi breaks into a run and is greeted by a host of guards outside the queen’s doors. Cries from inside reach his ears, and Nehi briefly considers trying to make his way past the guards, but stops before he acts rashly. The door opens from the inside and a servant girl exits carrying a bloodied sheet of cloth. Another scream comes from the room.

Nehi catches the servant girl on the arm. “Is she…?” He stops, unable to say the word.
Dying? Is she dying?

The girl gives him a reassuring smile. “She’ll be fine. I think the worst is nearly over.”

Another scream reverberates through the halls. Nehi releases the servant girl and leans against a wall, his head in his hands. He considers leaving but not knowing how she is doing would be worse, and he stays. The sounds coming from the queen’s chambers become more determined, long groans of focused effort, until they culminate in one final cry and stop altogether.

The door opens once more. A wrinkled, old midwife peeks her head out of the room and sees Nehi standing in the hall. She beckons to him and the guards allow him to pass through the doors. A quick glance shows Aniya resting in her bed while a cluster of servant women attend to her. The midwife clears her throat and Nehi remembers to give her his attention.

“Tell the Vizier that the child has been born.”

“Is that all?” he asks, finding his eyes slipping back to the young queen.

“No. Actually, first go to the Pharaoh and let him know the news.”

“What news should I tell him?”

“Tell the Pharaoh that his son has been born.”

“And the queen? How is she?”

The old woman gives Nehi a pointed look as if she can see directly into his heart. “You may tell the Pharaoh that his wife is well enough. She should be up and around in only a few days’ time.”

Nehi lets out a sigh of relief and ignores the midwife’s curious look. “Thank you. I’ll let the Pharaoh know right now,” he says and takes one more look at Aniya before he leaves.

He’s halfway to the Pharaoh’s chambers when he realizes he’s still holding the gift for Aniya in his hand.
It will give me an excuse to come visit her again soon.
Nehi is so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the odd quiet of the hallway. Guards should be posted outside of the Pharoah’s door, but none are there. Nehi looks around, but the hall is eerily silent. His breathing quickens and feels loud and out of place.
Where are the guards?
Even when Pharaoh is absent from the palace, his personal chambers are always well secured.

Nehi's pulse accelerates as he pulls open the doors from the outer chamber into the receiving hall. It too, is quiet and deserted; the next set of doors is also without guards. Nehi lets himself into the next hall. Usually filled with scribes and visiting dignitaries, it is completely empty. No guards stand at attention at the next set of doors leading to the final antechamber where Pharaoh meets with his most trusted advisors. Nehi has only been in this room a handful of times accompanying Rahotep. He’s never been beyond the next set of doors into the Pharaoh’s own personal room. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he places his fingers against the handles. Entering the Pharaoh’s chambers uninvited is forbidden, punishable by death, but Nehi can't ignore the feeling that something is truly wrong. Pharaoh is in danger. He knows it before he opens the door.

“Hello? My lord?” Nehi steps into the great room. Nothing but his own echoing voice answers him back. Nehi walks toward the center of the room. He spies an enormous four poster bed and quickens his steps when he notices the outline of someone laying on the bed.

“My lord?” He calls out again, a little louder this time. The figure does not move. Nehi steps up to the raised bed and pushes aside the gauzy mosquito netting. Pharaoh looks back at him, though the ruler’s eyes no longer see anything.

Great gods of Egypt.

A movement on the bed behind the Pharaoh’s body catches his eye and Nehi looks in horror as a great, brown cobra lifts its head and torso off the bed, its hiss loud and threatening. The snake raises, swaying back and forth like a pendulum, until its head is level with Nehi’s own. It strikes and misses its mark only because Nehi steps back at the same time falling off the platform and onto the floor. Nehi wastes no time for the beast to attack again but scrambles to his feet and runs for the door.

No wonder there are no guards. Someone planned...
The words run through his mind as he opens the door.

Rahotep is standing there, his fingers pointed at Nehi’s heart. “Sleep,” the high priest says and Nehi’s world goes dark. Nehi’s body crumples atop the gift he still holds in his hand. The delicate wood of the weaving tools he kept after Aniya’s failed attempt to escape breaks into pieces between his fingers and falls to the floor.

Already deeply asleep, Nehi’s unconscious mind takes in Rahotep’s final command and obeys.

“Forget.”

Aniya looks down at the child.

Her son.

He will be Pharaoh some day. Not because of destiny, or through wishful thinking, but because he is the only male heir of Akhenaten, the great Pharaoh of Egypt, her husband, and as of yet, there were no other male heirs to lay claim to the throne.

And now, there never will be.

Aniya pushes away a tear, careful not to smear the black kohl outlining her eyes. She is still not used to wearing it, even after almost a year of living in the palace.

She lifts the baby from the bed, careful to support his head, holding him as she held her younger brothers and sisters when they were newborns. With eight younger siblings, she had become quite skilled at child rearing. Especially after her mother died.

It had been the best part of becoming Pharaoh’s third wife -- being able to support her brothers and sisters. Her father no longer drank himself into a stupor. He even was able to find a wife of his own, a kind woman who couldn’t bear children of her own but was glad to become mother to Aniya’s siblings.

“We’ve both lost a parent, haven’t we, little one?” she whispers to the babe in her arms. He eyes her drowsily, taking in her face before finally succumbing to sleep.

“I think he would have liked to meet you,” Aniya says as the tiny pharaoh-to-be falls asleep. She thinks of her late husband. He had been more than kind to her. After some time together, she thought he may have even loved her. And she had come to love him, too. In her way. She loved him enough to miss him now that he was gone.

“May Osiris have mercy on his soul,” Aniya whispers. Even though it was against the law to speak of any other gods than Aten, Aniya still remembered, and made a point to say the prayer to the god of the underworld again.

A quick knock on the wooden doors of her chambers precedes two guards as they enter the room and flank the entrance. An entourage of servants follows a tall, slender woman into the room, -- Nefertiti, Pharaoh’s first and Great Royal Wife. Her steps are quick and she walks with conviction, as if she owns the entire palace. As of tomorrow, for all practical purposes, she will.

Tomorrow will be the fortieth day since Akhenaten's death, and the Pharaoh’s spirit will finally be making his journey through the Duat. Though Aniya’s son will someday become Pharaoh himself, Nefertiti will be named regent and will assume control until the boy is old enough to assume the throne -- a decision that Nefertiti gets to make.

The Great Royal Wife crosses the floor in a few, quick strides, her followers racing to keep up. Aniya looks up and tries not to be afraid. It doesn’t work. Nefertiti has never been overtly unkind to Aniya since she became Akhenaten’s third wife. Mostly, Nefertiti hadn’t bothered to notice her. There was no reason for her to. After all, as third wife, Aniya is a queen of Egypt in name only, little more than a highly-prized servant whose only purpose has been to bear her husband a son. Nefertiti was the Great Royal Wife - a confidant and helper to the Pharaoh in all matters.

The queen stops in front of her and looks down at the baby sleeping in her arms. Her face is a mask, and Aniya can not guess what true feelings lie beneath the queen’s carefully-laid exterior. “Have you given him a name yet?” Nefertiti asks.

“No, not yet.” Aniya pushes aside a small lock of black hair and gazes at her son. He is only a few weeks old and is indeed very beautiful.

She had been frightened at first when she realized that accepting Pharaoh’s proposal might not bring forth a son, but the king had been kind. When she confessed her fear of not being able to bear an heir for him, the king assured her that he would not be angry with her. It had been Rahotep who had promised a son, not her. He vowed that he would be pleased with any child, and not to worry. Aniya had taken him at his word. Along with all of Egypt, she was greatly saddened when the king died suddenly, just weeks before he was able to meet his only son.