Lower Egypt - Near the Mediterranean Sea. 

Palace of King Nabil-Ra, Northern Star of Egypt.

~☾~

 Not all evil comes cloaked in shadow. 

These rode in golden chariots, to the fanfare of cheers and bleating horns that carried on the summer breeze; announcing the moment I had been dreading since I'd heard of my sister's engagement. A shiver skittered up my spine. 

They're here.

"Sisters, look!" Anaka squealed, mirroring my thoughts.

I glanced up from my game of senet, gaze trailing my sister's pointed finger toward the balcony as my stomach rolled. Perhaps it was the dates I'd stuffed down like a hungry egret, but more than likely it was because of him.

Amon-Set.

With a steadying breath I inhaled deeply. Taking with it the woody citrus of frankincense burning in their hanging pots in the corners of Anaka's room, as the three of us sisters primed ourselves to welcome our guests at tonight's festivities.

"Nefari, come see!" Anaka's excitement pitched higher as she jumped off her pillowed seat, much to the dismay of her handmaiden, who was mid-braid in her shoulder length mane of midnight locks. Bare feet slapped against white polished stone as she beckoned me, leaning over the carved alabaster terrace. "I can't believe I'm finally going to meet my husband!"

Neck craning from my seated position, I could just make out the clouds of dust flicking up from horses' hooves. As a train of over fifty chariots, with their golden details twinkling in the sun, rolled down the palm tree laden path toward the palace. Their faces shadowed by the late afternoon glow of Ra's blazing eye behind them.

"I can see just fine from here," I assured, swallowing the heartbeat pulsing in my throat. Will he recognize me? It had been so long since we last saw one another. Ten summers? Maybe more. Would he even remember me? ...Will he even care? It's not like he ever returned my letters. I twisted the horse-shaped game piece nervously in my hands. I had been mulling these dizzying questions, without resolution in the weeks leading to this moment.

"Anaka! Sit down and let Mahti finish your hair." Zahara, the eldest of us three sisters, chided as she placed the squawking hawk on her arm back in its cage before Anaka's' pet monkey could terrorize it further. "And he's not your husband yet. You're hardly living together," Zahara snorted, shooing the small screeching monkey out and up onto the balcony ledge. The wretched thing bared its pointed little teeth before climbing up Anika's arm; tail curling round her neck.

Pets were the latest fashion in Lower Egypt, but why father, North Star of the Heavens, let her keep that brown fur ball, was beyond my comprehension. That monkey got into everything.

"He's so handsome," Anaka sighed, leaning dreamily against the stone ledge, but the only beauty I saw was the might of our empire. White buildings and temples splayed against the backdrop of the Nile, winding like a long snake through the grass. Lush fruit trees and tall fields of wheat swayed lazily in the breeze, displaying a bountiful harvest. It would be a good yield this year. And in the distance the half built pyramid to my Father Nabil-Ra that would carry him into the afterlife. 

The chattering monkey jumped from Anaka's arm, pacing the balcony ledge at the second blare of the horns. It looked nervous-almost as much as me.

"How do you know? You can't even see him properly from here," Zahara clicked her tongue, moving toward the edge to sneak a better look, along with several other ladies maids as the shadowed figures dismounted their chariots while servants ushered their steeds to the stables. I already knew which was his. A large black and gold painted chariot with four charges as dark as night itself, stomping and snorting and draped in glittering gold harnesses. Those were his colors.

I stayed seated where I was; still and hollow as a painted vase. It's better not to look. It would only destroy the pure image of the boy I once shared secrets with. A boy that was now a man. A killer-or so I'd heard.

"Well, that's what the nobles are saying. That the gods themselves sculpted his face," Anaka shot back with a haughty smile; as if wedding to a war monger was something to brag about. But then again, perhaps she would keep Amon on his toes. Anaka was born for the spotlight. The youngest and the most spoiled of us-her mother saw to that.

"I doubt it," Zahara snorted, "if the rumors are true he's got at least a few battle scars. Didn't he submit to the Badou Tribe in less than a day?"

"The rumors can't all be true?" I could see Anaka's face paling as she looked at me for support. Tales of his bloody conquests of the eastern tribes had traveled up the Nile and into the ears of gossiping nobles with much idle time to wag their tongues.

"You know how nobles are, I'm sure they're greatly exaggerated," Anaka nodded as if my words were her religion. But it was hard to imagine Amon as anything other than the pudgy faced boy who'd followed me around during our summers together. He was not terrible with a bow, but he'd never bested me with a sword, and I wasn't particularly proficient. How could the sweet boy I knew become a harbinger of death, a reaper of men?

"I hear they call him The Jackal of War."

"Zahara!" I gave her a stern glance, eyes sliding to Anaka whose complexion was growing gaunt. Her fingers threading nervously though the remaining strands of her unbraided hair as if weighing the price of beauty against bloodshed.

"Wait for the banquet to see him and let Mahti finish, or we shall all be late," Zahara took the hint, steering Anaka by the shoulders, away from the balcony and back down onto her cushioned throne. "Besides, no one can beat me when it comes to the short sword." Zahara gave Anaka a reassuring squeeze as she settled in her seat.

"For now," I added dryly, but the virtue of humility was lost on her.

"I shall challenge him to a sparring match and we shall find the truth between the swing of his blade." Zahara's hand fell to the blade at her hip with a greedy grin on her face. She had earned her own name at the garrison. The Viper. Strong, quick-witted, hungry. Every bit the pharaoh my father was molding her to be. She enjoyed watching men fall at her sword- Amon-set would be no exception, I was sure.

This is good. I told myself, twisting the game piece tighter. It will unite our empires. And Anaka seems happy. But I couldn't quite force the corners of my mouth up.

Amon-Set, Pharaoh of Upper Egypt; and my youngest sisters intended, had taken the throne in our years apart. Burning a name for himself across the war-scarred grasslands as he expanded his empire in the name of their god Set. Only fourteen years old and barely fleshed into womanhood, Anaka was seven years his junior. But then again, my mother had been ten years younger than father when they'd wed, who was I to judge?

"Tell me again, what was he like, Nefari?" Anaka leaned forward on her cushions, her face asking for reassurance as she fought her maid Mahti who was tugging through another braid, the old woman's dark face furrowed in frustration.

"There's not much more to tell."

I had humored her with small snippets of our summers as children in the weeks leading up to his arrival. But it had dug up with it the feelings I'd buried since becoming a Priestess, and the life I'd left behind.

"Nefari" Anaka whined, "Please? You were originally his betrothed after all. Zahara told me you were practically stuck together like tar every summer."

I shot Zahara a dirty look. What else did you tell her?

"Please?" Anaka pursed her pretty painted lips into a pout as Mahti worked the bone comb through the rest of her hair, winding the intricate braids with beads atop her head. "I was too young to remember and I should at least know what he's like. What his favorite foods are so I can have the servants prepare them-oh- and his interests. Does he enjoy games?" Anaka's eyes falling to the Senate board, one of our favorite pastimes together.

Ask him yourself.

I took a deep breath. "He liked hunting over games. He also had a knack for setting rabbit snares and honeyed figs were his favorite; but that was a long time ago Anaka." I'm sure he's changed.

I didn't want to share anymore. They were my memories. Fond times that I could wander to when it was an especially slow day for offerings at the temple. Where I could fantasize about 'what ifs' of a boy whose reflection I was sure I would not see on the man that rode in today.

"He will be a suitable match for you, Anaka," Zahra added. She preened at this, sitting a little taller in her seat.

"Hurry, Mahti! You must make me look like a Queen!"

Zahara and I exchanged looks. Easier said than done.