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Sita

Sita woke to the sound of a falcon crying.

She sat up in bed with a gasp, startling Nebet. The older woman sat in a chair by her side, mending a hole in one of her fine dresses.

“It’s all right, dear,” she said, patting Sita’s hand. “It’s all right.”

“What was that?” Sita asked, looking out the window into the thick darkness. There was no falcon in sight, yet it had sounded so close…

“Hmm? I didn’t hear anything.” Nebet’s voice was strange. She fumbled her sewing needle, and picked it back up with shaking fingers. “Go back to sleep, Princess. You need your rest.”

Sita rubbed her eyes. Nebet had found her wandering the palace halls after her father’s death earlier in the day and escorted her back to her chambers. She’d been so distraught, she hadn’t told Nebet about Mery’s intention to make her his queen. She dimly remembered falling into bed and crying herself to sleep. But that had been in the afternoon… Had she really slept through the day and into the night?

Outside, she heard a distant commotion. A dull clatter of footsteps. Alarmed voices that were quickly stifled.

“What time is it?” she asked, suddenly feeling an inexplicable sense of urgency. “What’s going on?”

Nebet’s lip twitched. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, Sitamun. Best if you stay here with me.” There was an unspoken coda to that sentence. Where it’s safe.

Unease bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She’d assumed that since Mery told her about his plot to kill their father, he’d shared all his secrets. But he hadn’t said a word about his plan to marry her. That he’d kept in the dark. What other plans would be brought into the light, now that the king was dead?

“Nebet,” she said, “I command you to tell me what’s happening.”

The older woman stared at the dress. She clutched it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. There was a long pause before she finally spoke.

“A little while ago, one of the other attendants informed me that seven of the king’s personal guard have been killed.”

“Killed?” Horrified, Sita threw the covers aside and went to Nebet. Was Femi one of them? Her heart raced. “How?”

“All I know is that the prince himself ordered their deaths. It is… upsetting…” Nebet’s face crumpled, but she quickly recovered her composure. “But I trust he had his reasons. It is not my place to question the will of a pharaoh.” She reached out and gripped one of Sita’s hands. “Neither is it yours.”

Sita pulled her hand away. “How can you say that? What possible reason could he have for such savagery?” Her voice was high and a little hysterical. “I have to find Femi.”

“Sitamun, please .” Nebet clung to her, her face filled with terror. “Don’t go. I implore you.”

Sita narrowed her eyes. She’d known Nebet all her life. She could tell when the woman was keeping something more from her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The attendant pressed her lips into a thin line.

She’d commanded the woman to speak, and yet still she held back. What could be worse than the deaths of the guards?

“Nebet!” she cried in frustration. She was about to grab the older woman by the shoulders and shake her until she confessed, when Mery’s words came back to her.

You and me … we belong together … my twin … my mirror.

Was it true? Were she and Mery so alike? In the past, such a comparison would have made her proud, but no longer. Her brother may have started out with good intentions, but he’d gone too far. He justified one murder in the name of the greater good, but clearly it hadn’t ended there. Where would he stop? How could she have not seen it sooner? And what had keeping that secret done to her? She nearly assaulted her beloved Nebet for trying to keep her safe. A fresh wave of self-loathing washed over her.

If it’s not true , she thought, if you’re really not like him, then prove it.

Be the one thing Mery could never be.

Honest.

She took a deep, calming breath. “Let me bring you some water,” she said to Nebet.

The attendant, who’d been watching her with apprehension, slowly relaxed. When Sita brought her a cup, she wrapped her hands around it like a talisman.

“Thank you,” she said, and took a sip. Sita knelt before her, a gesture which seemed to take Nebet by surprise. “Sitamun?”

“I love you, Nebet.” Sita had never said it before, though she hoped her actions had. “You have been more of a mother to me than my own, and you’ve given me more devotion than I deserve.”

Nebet’s eyes shone. “What are you talking about, child?” she said, her voice thick. “Of course you deserve my love. You’ve never done anything wrong.”

“I haven’t done many things right either. I know you’re trying to protect me from whatever is happening in the palace, but you can’t. You have to tell me, Nebet.”

She clasped her hands together in prayer.

“You have to let me go,” Sita said quietly.

Nebet let out a small sob, then nodded. “As you wish, Sitamun.” She steadied her voice. “The girl who told me about the guards—she’d come looking for Tadia. Tadia hadn’t returned to the women’s chambers, and they’d received a message that all the king’s servants, concubines, and lesser wives were to go to the Horus Room to attend a special ritual to honor the late king. She didn’t want Tadia to be late, so she asked me to pass along the message if I saw her.

“I thought… I thought it was strange to call all those people together at this time of night. And the Horus Room? Why there? I just… I have a bad feeling, Sitamun.”

Sita shivered.

A tear trickled down the attendant’s cheek. “Your brother was always so beautiful, you know? So charming . Even as a little baby. ‘He Whose Face Is the Sun,’ that’s what they called him. He shone so brightly. But now it makes me wonder. The sun shines, Sitamun, but it also burns. ” Her lip trembled. “Don’t go.”

Sita clambered to her feet, her heart hammering. “I’m sorry,” she said, and rushed out the door.

***

Sita ran through the desolate halls of the palace, a place that had come to feel more like a cage than a home.

The Horus Room was a seldom used ceremonial chamber, one of the many relics of a palace built long before her father’s reign. Unlike his predecessor, Amunmose considered himself a modern king, and had done away with some of the more archaic rituals that Sematawy had been keen to restore. Growing up, the dusty Horus Room had often been a secret playground for her and Mery, where they would pretend to be king and queen and reenact ancient ceremonies using whatever was at hand. Thinking back on those once-fond memories set Sita’s stomach twisting.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the muggy, forgotten corridor, lit by dim torchlight. The door to the Horus Room stood at its end, covered by a red linen curtain. A woman stood before it, dressed in mourning yellow.

“Mother?”

Queen Bintanath turned, and Sita flinched at the sight of her. The heavy kohl around her mother’s eyes had run down her face in black rivulets. She looked haunted, like a shell of her former self.

“Sita,” she said softly. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“What’s Mery done, Mother? What’s happening in there?”

Sita tried to step past her, but Queen Bintanath refused to move aside. She seemed dazed, distracted. She laid a hand on Sita’s cheek in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture and smiled, sending a chill down Sita’s spine.

“Such a beautiful girl,” she said. “A face born to be carved in stone—I always thought so. And now it will be, for you will become queen of this kingdom and sit by Mery’s side as he leads Khetara into a great future. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Sita jerked away. “Wait, you approve of this? Your own children, bedding together?” Her life was spinning out of control. “Did you know he was planning this marriage? How could you possibly—”

“Shh … ” Queen Bintanath said, putting a finger to her lips as if she were speaking to a child. “Mery only confessed his love for you this evening, before me and the viziers. Oh, we were surprised at first, but after your brother explained it to us, it made perfect sense.

“Your father, may he live forever in the West, allowed this kingdom to stray too far from the old ways. In order to bring Khetara back to the prosperity it once had, we must return to our roots. And that begins with you, Sitamun. The blood of Isis flows through your veins, my girl. Nebet always claimed that it was she who blessed you when you were born, she who named you. I never believed her, but now… now I do. The gods are speaking through your brother’s lips, and like Isis and Osiris, he will soon have you as both his sister and his wife. And through your union a new nation will be born.”

“How can you say these things?” Sita asked, shaking her head. “How can you not see that this is all wrong?”

Only after the accusation left her lips did Sita feel its sting in her own heart. Couldn’t anyone, had they known the truth, have said the same to her? Isn’t that how I sounded when I was under Mery’s spell? Didn’t I nod and smile and parrot his words, because he’d poured them so sweetly into my ears? She’d known about the poisoned cakes. Known that they were going to kill her father and an innocent child.

How can you not have seen that it was all wrong?

“Before Mery takes the throne,” the queen went on, as if Sita hadn’t spoken, “your brother wishes to send his beloved father to the Duat in the manner of the ancient kings. Kings who brought with them an honored retinue to serve them in the afterlife.”

Sita’s agonized thoughts came to a sudden halt. Her heart quickened as she turned her gaze toward the red curtain, and her ears to the ominous silence coming from beyond it. If her father’s lesser wives, concubines, and servants were all inside that room, why was it so quiet?

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse. She looked from her mother to the portal of the Horus Room. “He wouldn’t…”

Then, before the queen could stop her, Sita plunged through the curtain.

Sita thought about that moment many times in the days and months that followed. It remained perfectly preserved, stored in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind until the day she died.

The space was much cleaner than Sita remembered. The assorted bric-a-brac that had been thrown into it over the years had been cleared away, and even the walls, painted with images of falcon-headed Horus, seemed fresh.

A luscious feast had been set on the large low table in the center of the room. Breadcrumbs, bare bones, and the skeletons of grape clusters lay abandoned on golden platters, along with three elaborately painted wine jars. It could have been the scene of any celebration, any formal ceremony meant to raise a glass to the pharaoh.

They were all there. Her father’s four other wives, who’d clucked at her when she was a toddling nunu playing with wooden dolls and who’d taught her how to apply the kohl to her eyes when she’d grown.

Maet’s mother was there too.

So were the concubines, young and beautiful, and the servants, his faithful litter bearers, his personal attendants, the cook and his helpers, and the courtly, gentle Ineni, who’d remained at the king’s side until the very end. All of them were in attendance around that table to honor the memory of King Amunmose III.

And all of them were dead.

Some had collapsed onto the table, their heads resting on fine plates, almost as if they were sleeping. Others had fallen backward and lay splayed across the blue tiled floor, their hands clutching their throats or stomachs or each other. Ineni lay closest to the door, his slender body fixed in a contorted pose, his lips slack and blue. Maet’s mother had curled into a fetal position on the floor. She looked almost peaceful.

Almost.

None of them appeared to have suffered any violence, and it would have been a wholly bloodless tableau, if it wasn’t for the wine.

It spilled from toppled cups onto the table, dark and gruesome, and dripped in crimson rivulets onto the floor, seeping into the cracks between the tiles. It soaked into white linen dresses and stained cooling skin. It filled the room with a thick, sour tang that nearly made her gag.

Despite there not being a single wound on anyone in that room, Sita knew a weapon when she saw one.

And she knew her brother.

Whatever was in the wine, it took down two dozen vibrant lives in the matter of moments, as swift as a cobra’s kiss.

The scene swam before Sita’s eyes like a mirage, too horrible to be real. She dashed forward, falling to her knees before Maet’s mother’s body, dragging the woman’s head into her lap.

“Wake up,” she begged. “Please…”

Maet’s mother was still, her eyes open and dry.

No more tears.

Only a few days ago, her father had been bouncing Maet on his knee at that banquet, while the little girl’s mother looked on. Now, all three of them are dead.

Stifling a sob, Sita plucked the empty wine cup from the woman’s hand and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. The sound was so loud it jolted her.

She was struck by a sudden, terrible clarity, like a curse finally broken.

This is just the beginning , she thought. She’d played enough games with Mery to know an opening gambit when she saw one. Sacrifice the pawns to advance to a superior position. In one night, Mery had eliminated everyone in the palace who’d been truly loyal to their father. Everyone except for the queen, Kenna, and her.

She had no idea what his plans were for her mother and brother, but the thought of what he meant to do with her was too sickening to contemplate.

If I don’t get away now, I’ll be trapped in this nightmare forever.

Just then, a man stepped through a door at the back of the room. She recognized him as one of the guards Mery was particularly fond of. His fierce expression softened when he saw Sita kneeling at the woman’s side. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Princess Sitamun, but you shouldn’t be here,” he said slowly, carefully. “Please, allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”

“No, no,” Sita replied, quickly stumbling to her feet. “I’ll go on my own, thank you. I was merely… saying goodbye…”

The guard bowed his head but watched until she backed out of the room, until the red curtain dropped once again between her and the grisly scene.

Then, she ran.

***

She was nearing her chambers when Sita turned a corner and slammed into someone coming from the other direction. Instinctively, she lashed out in terror, ready to fight. Strong hands took hold of her wrists and held them.

“It’s all right, Sitamun. It’s me.”

“Femi?” It took a moment for her to register his kind, familiar face. “Oh, praise Amun, you’re alive!” After so much loss, the blessing of Femi’s survival felt like a miracle. Heedless of who might see, she wrapped her arms around his chest and held him tight.

“I am,” Femi said. “For now.”

He looked shaken and exhausted, and there was blood staining the edge of his schenti. Sita suspected it wasn’t his.

“I can’t believe my brother spared you. I was certain you’d be targeted. He saw us together, after all…”

Femi scoffed. “I don’t think it’s mercy that stayed his hand, Sitamun. Strategy, more like. Though to what end, I’ve no idea.” He took her hand and tugged her down the hall. “Now, please, come with me, Princess. I must get you back to your chambers before anyone sees us.”

“No,” Sita said, resisting him. “I’m not going back.”

Femi frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sita lifted her chin. “My brother intends to take me as his queen.” Femi’s eyes widened. “He told me this afternoon, just after my father’s death. A death, like so many others, that could have been prevented. The prince is…”

She felt a lump rising in her throat. “I knew he was ruthless, but I thought his intentions were good. I never… I never thought…”

Words kept failing her. In the end, she was left with one simple truth. “I am a fool.”

“I don’t understand,” Femi asked. “How could you have prevented these deaths? What could you have done?”

“I could have confessed,” Sita said savagely. “I could have fought. I could have died. Anything would have been better than what I did—which was nothing.”

“Sitamun,” Femi said in a low voice. “Are you saying that there was a plot to assassinate the king? That the prince… murdered him?”

It was too late for the truth to matter. Too late for it to save anyone—not even her. But since she was given the opportunity, she told it anyway.

“Yes.”

Femi reeled from the impact of her words. She wanted to explain more, to tell him everything, but there was no time.

“I will not remain here and be Mery’s prize. I’ve got to escape—tonight. Will you help me?”

Femi paled. “But where will you go?”

Sita shook her head. “I don’t know yet,” she said rapidly. “But I must leave before Mery puts me under watch. For all I know, his men are already waiting in my chambers. One of them saw me in the Horus Room.”

“All right, all right,” Femi said, running a hand through his short hair. “Come, there’s a supply room nearby. I can get you a plain dress and robe, a waterskin, some dry provisions, and a small blade… but not much else.”

“That’s enough,” Sita said.

Femi met her eyes, his weary expression tinged with sorrow. He’d already lost so much, and he was about to lose more. He looked as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say, but instead he bowed his head. “As you wish, my princess.”

They hurried to the supply room, where Sita changed her clothes by candlelight. She stuffed her fineries into a rough pack and slung them over her shoulder. Perhaps she could trade them for more supplies later on. The robe she’d chosen was plain and black with a wide hood that would shield her face from curious eyes. Femi fitted her with a leather belt to hold her dagger and waterskin, cinching it tight around her waist. When she was ready, they emerged back into the hallway.

They hadn’t gone three steps before a clatter of footsteps approached.

“Get back inside!” Femi whispered, shoving her into the supply room.

Sita pressed herself against the wall and held her breath.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

“Femi,” a deep voice said. “Have you seen the princess?”

“Not tonight,” Femi lied. “She should be asleep in her chambers. Is she not?”

The other guard grumbled. “She blundered into the Horus Room and then took off. The prince wants her found. The other men are checking the women’s chambers. If you find her, bring her to the throne room immediately.”

“Of course,” Femi replied.

Sita listened as the footsteps faded.

Femi poked his head through the doorway. “We must be quick. The shortest path out of the palace is through the gardener’s entrance in the pleasure garden. Let’s go.”

Pulling the hood over her face, Sita reached for Femi’s hand and hurried with him toward the main hall. They were halfway through the shadowy chamber when two more guards approached. She and Femi dashed behind one of the columns, hearts hammering, and waited until they’d passed. Sita felt sick with fear, unable to breathe until they finally emerged from the palace and out into the cool, fragrant air of the pleasure garden.

The fishpond rippled with movement, reflecting a jagged moon. A stiff breeze ruffled Sita’s robes, bringing with it the scent of smoke and honey and wine. It rushed through the boughs of the sycamore tree, the sound hushed and urgent.

Shhh.

The time had come for her to leave him. To leave everything.

“Come with me,” Sita blurted. She hadn’t thought it through—she hadn’t thought anything through—but she was terrified of being alone. “You’re not safe here. When Mery realizes I’m gone, he’ll think you helped me escape.”

Femi shook his head. “If I go with you, they’ll know that for certain. They’ll hunt us down like dogs, and I cannot protect you from that. But if I stay, I can throw them off the scent.

“As soon as you leave here, head south. Get out of the city as fast as you can. When they come for me, I’ll tell them you’d mentioned wanting to travel north to the delta by riverboat, but that I had no idea you’d intended to run away. They’ll spend hours searching all the boats at port, giving you time to get as far from here as possible.”

The plan made sense, and Sita was impressed that Femi had devised it so quickly. There was a problem with it, though.

“Your lies may convince the guards, but when they fail to find me, my brother will come for you. He’ll see right through the deception.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “He’ll torture you, Femi. He’ll bring you to the edge of death unless you tell him where I’ve gone.”

Femi’s expression didn’t change, as if he’d already reached the same conclusion. “Then you mustn’t tell me where you’re going, Sitamun. If I don’t know, I won’t have to lie to a future king.”

Sita stared at Femi, suddenly seeing him in a new light. He’d been a mere plaything to her, although she’d also come to see him as a friend. Still, though, she’d failed to notice his strength, his courage, his sense of honor.

Once again, her arrogance had blinded her to the truth. Femi may have been a lowly guard, but he had the heart of a commander.

“I don’t deserve your sacrifice. I have used you, been cold to you—if I’d only just left you alone, you’d never—”

“If you’d just left me alone,” Femi interrupted, “I never would have known what it is to love you. Even if it was only for a short while.”

The words pierced her like a knife. It was as she’d feared. “You can’t love me,” she protested. “Why would you love me?”

Femi smiled, a sad smile that nearly broke her. “You may not ever be queen of this kingdom, but you have always been mine. It would be an honor to die protecting you, Sitamun. I can think of no better way to leave this life.”

Sita threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and fierce, a kiss to last. When she pulled away, her cheeks were wet with tears.

“I will return,” she vowed. “I don’t know how, but I will find a way.”

Femi nodded and looked back toward the main hall, toward the sound of distant, shouted commands.

“We’re running out of time,” he said. “You have to go. Now.”

Sita followed his gaze, taking one last look at the palace. “I don’t even know who I am away from this place.”

“Then go and find out, my princess,” Femi said, his eyes roaming her face as if to memorize it.

With a solemn nod, Sita turned toward the gardener’s entrance.

“Goodbye,” Sita whispered, to Femi, to Nebet, to Kenna, to her mother, to the garden of her youth, to the only life she’d ever known.

She stepped across the dark threshold, and fled into the vast desert beyond.