Page 19 of Dalla's Royal Guards

“I don’t know,” he finally replied.

“Where are you from, man of shadows?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. I was a trader before I was chained,” he said.

“See that he is cleaned up and sent to the palace,” Khufu ordered.

“But… who will replace him?” the builder asked.

“You, for your insolence. See that he is clean, clothed as one of my personal guards, and fed.”

Hakeem turned, watching with confusion as Khufu strode away. His eyes moved to the builder who was staring in the same direction. The man swayed. A dry, coarse chuckle slipped from Hakeem at the distress on the builder’s face.

Yes… fate is a fickle beast,he thought.

Harlem swirled the amber liquid in his glass. Fate, indeed, had been fickle. He walked through the collection of glass display cases, eventually pausing to stare down at the gold artifacts that had once been in the tomb of a three-thousand-year old mummy.

A tomb he alone had known, centuries before its ‘rediscovery’ in the late 1800s. He hadn’t taken everything. Only enough to remember the face of the man he’d died to protect and who had tried to kill him.

The night was beautiful. It had been over a year since he had become Khufu’s personal guard. Hakeem moved through the rooms of the palace, checking that everything was in order. There was going to be a feast this evening.

His words of caution, sharp and clear, had been dismissed by Khufu, who felt impatient with the warnings. Hakeem was passing a set of ornately carved wooden doors when they opened. He pursed his lips, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, as he saw the slender woman in the entrance, her beauty renowned.

Henutsen lifted her chin, an inviting smile on her lips. Hakeem ignored the invitation.

“You should be more receptive to me,” she said.

“I have work to do, Your Majesty. If you need assistance, I will summon one of your ladies,” he replied.

“What I need, my ladies cannot supply,” she purred.

“Then perhaps I should summon his majesty for you,” he stiffly retorted.

Her eyes flashed with resentment. “I could order you,” she said.

His eyes turned cold and hard. “You could,” he agreed before he took a step closer to her and his voice dropped so the otherguards could not hear him. “But I would think twice before you do, Your Majesty.”

Henutsen’s eyes flashed with fire. “Are you threatening me?”

Hakeem bowed his head. “The walls have eyes and ears, your majesty. It is not my blade you have to worry about.”

Henutsen’s eyes narrowed before she released a curse, stepped back, and closed the doors in his face. A rueful smile curved his lips. He turned when he heard his second-in-command, Ammon, sigh.

“She’s beautiful,” Ammon murmured.

“So is a viper. Both can be deadly with the poison they carry,” he replied.

Ammon chuckled and nodded. “Thankfully, she hasn’t turned her eyes to me.”

Hakeem bowed his head and made a mental note to assign only the oldest and ugliest guards to the queen’s living quarters. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it might slow down the deaths that would surely follow.

An hour later, he had finished his rounds and stood guard at the Pharaoh’s side. His muscles were tense beneath his linen robe. His eyes scanned the room. The rushed whispers and fervent glances all spoke of deceit. Khufu’s younger brothers were in attendance with their wives. The men were hungry for power. He could see it in their eyes—and in the eyes of their wives. It was only a matter of time before the betrayal came.

Just after moonrise, Hakeem frowned when he noticed several servers were not the ones he had chosen.

When one passed by him heading for Khufu, he plucked the goblet from the tray. The young woman’s face paled as he lifted the drink and sniffed it. His eyes narrowed when she looked nervously away.

“Drink it,” he ordered.