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Saqnos fell to his knees before her, took her hand gently in his, and kissed it.

Would a mortal woman have recoiled?

"My queen," Enamon said softly.

She lifted her free hand to one side. Stay where you are, the gesture said.

"You are surprised that I live?" Bektaten finally asked. "How can you possibly feel this when you have hunted me to this place?"

"Hunted. This is not the right word."

"Then provide me with the right word, Saqnos."

He still held the hand he'd just kissed. A gentle tug was all that was needed to bring him to his feet.

"Walk with me, my queen. Walk with me so--"

"Did I not cease being your queen when you placed me in the earth?"

If only she could be convinced by the woeful expression, the bowed head, the seizure of remorse that seemed to grip his powerful body. But she was not convinced. And she saw his true motive: to separate her from her men. And from his men as well. This latter fact intrigued her.

"There is much I must repair," Saqnos whispered.

"Indeed, the theft of my creation."

"Your creation?" he asked. Anger in his eyes now, the remorse quickly gone. "You were in search of medicine, not the secret to eternal life. Do you no longer give the gods credit for the accident of its discovery?"

"Which gods? There have been so many. The fall of our kingdom, Saqnos. How do you plan to repair this?"

"You cannot lay blame for the plague at my feet."

"I cannot? You entered jungles from which no creature returned. We knew there was sickness within. And yet you slashed them to ruin."

"Because you would not give me the formula."

"Because you demanded it at the tip of a spear."

It was impossible to read his expression now.

"Please, Bektaten. Walk with me."

And so he had granted her request to stop calling her his queen. Did that earn him some small measure of obedience? Perhaps so.

"A few paces. Nothing more."

He reached for her hand, the same one that wore the ring, and she withdrew it. And so they walked side by side, without touching, towards the clamor of the market. But she dared not leave the shadows. Not when his motives remained so unclear.

"If you blame me for Shaktanu's fall, would you give me the chance to rebuild it?" he asked.

"There is no rebuilding Shaktanu."

"I do not speak of resurrecting temples out of what is now desert sand."

"Temples out of desert sand? This is how you refer to what you destroyed? Our empire crossed seas in ways unknown to the people of this age. We charted the stars with maps now lost to dust. Lands that remain unknown to the people of this city were our colonies and our outposts and full of our loyal subjects. And all of this you now dismiss as temples in desert sand?"

"Do not chain me to the past when I offer you a better future," he whispered.

"I am listening, Saqnos. Speak to me of this better future."