At this time of the evening, the scents of the pleasure garden pleased Nefertari most. She caressed the soft petals of a poppy, distracted. Ramesses had not sent for the children after his evening meal. How disappointed they had been. She learned he had been closeted with Ahmen and Waset's chief constable the whole day, runners coming and going.

None knew what was happening, or if they did, were unwilling to speak of it. She considered asking Paser, he would be certain to know, though whether he would tell her was another question altogether. A rustle of material. She turned. Imtes approached, her eyes filled with excitement.

"My lady," she breathed, "Vizier Paser requests permission to approach the queen's presence, what shall I tell the guard to say?"

"Granted," Nefertari smiled, pleased, then added, "instruct my attendants to fall back."

She turned as Imtes departed and continued through the gardens, aware of her attendants slowing their steps. She savored the space. From the corner of her eye, she caught Paser's arrival, his fists crossing over his chest. He bowed.

She picked a cornflower. Lifting it to her nose, she smiled, glancing sideways at him. "Lord Paser, I was just thinking of you. How convenient you should arrive just now, when I have had thoughts of you in my mind."

His composure deserted him. His hands moved to the pommels of his daggers, a stance forbidden in her presence. He caught himself, and murmured an apology.

Still holding the flower, she turned toward him, curious. "Your distress is quite noticeable. Do you come bearing bad news?"

"No, my lady." He pressed his palm to his heart. "Forgive me. All is well, though there is an urgent matter I should like to discuss with you."

She moved along the path. He fell in beside her. She kept her tone light. "Is it to do with Ramesses shutting himself away all day today?"

He hesitated. Then: "I have not been part of his meetings, though I suspect I may be the cause of them."

She stopped, intrigued. He stepped closer. "I have Meresamun. My men found her alone outside of Ahmen's villa, before Re-Atum's barque ascended this morning."

Nefertari blinked. Familiar, bitter jealousy pooled in her torso. "So," she snapped, "he refrains from his duties to search for a runaway priestess. She must have a firm hold upon him indeed, to cause him to refuse his children." She moved on. "Should he uncover where she is, your wealth and power will not protect you. Ramesses will send you to the gods."

Paser nodded, solemn. She walked on, catching Imtes watching them, her eyes full of hope. She turned her back to her, irritated. Now wasn't the time.

The vizier cleared his throat and leaned closer, his voice low. "I have come to seek your counsel. Meresamun may be Ahmen's woman, or Ramesses might be keeping her at Ahmen's for himself. Yesterday, he sent her a fortune of gifts, which favours the latter possibility. I am prepared to resolve this once and for all. Anything you ask of me, it shall be done. Anything."

Plucking the cornflower's petals one by one, Nefertari considered his offer. She looked up at him, watching her, his expression unreadable. She shook her head. No. It was monstrous even to think it. She walked on.

"You say your men found Meresamun alone in the lanes of Waset," she said, pausing to sniff what remained of the cornflower. "I would know why. I must speak with her."

Paser's eyes darkened. "Impossible. I cannot bring her into the palace, and you cannot visit my villa without bringing half the palace with you."

"Then I shall not leave as the queen," Nefertari said, bristling at his tone, "but as my sister. Imtes will stay with me tonight. When it is late, I will cover my face with a veil and leave as her. You will have a palanquin waiting for me at the gates."

His eyebrow quirked. She suppressed a smile. He hadn't expected that. She waited. He looked over his shoulder, inspecting Imtes as though she were a horse at market. Her sister blushed, shy under his perusal.

"I beg you, reconsider," he murmured. "Apart from the terrible risk you would take, the Lady Imtes's reputation will be ruined if it becomes known she has visited my villa unescorted. What of the price she would pay for such a scandal?"

Nefertari smiled, pleased to offer the prize herself. "Then it is as I have long suspected. You are a blind man. Imtes only has eyes for you, and would welcome the implication as your lover. Unless, you would rather not have the queen's sister as your wife?"

Something deep within his eyes flickered. He veiled it almost instantly. His composure returned. He backed away, bowing, formal. "Your Majesty. As you wish, it shall be done."

Tossing aside the ruined cornflower, she gestured for Imtes to join her, forcing a smile for her sister's sake. At least one of them would have her heart's desire. It would be enough. It had to be.

❃

Outside Meresamun's room, Nefertari adjusted her veil, her heart tight with trepidation. It had been far more difficult to leave the palace than she had expected. She had almost been unveiled not once, but twice. Never again would she underestimate the diligence of the palace guards.

Paser unlocked the door, his expression thin. Nefertari pressed her lips together, a spear of guilt impaling her as she realized just how much she had asked of him. Her ill-considered plan had put both of their lives in mortal danger. He pushed the door open and nodded at her. It was time.

Upon the bed, Meresamun lay huddled in a ball, a cushion clutched against her chest. Even in her disheveled state, the priestess's beauty was flawless. Nefertari felt a childish, jealous urge to slap her. She raised her hand. Meresamun's eyes opened. She cried out and scuttled to the other side of the bed, still holding the cushion. Paser had said they had little time. Nefertari went straight to the point.

"Where were you going in the dead of the night, alone and unescorted?" she demanded.

Meresamun's fingers tightened on the cushion, defensive. She shook her head.

"You will answer me," Nefertari said, low, irked by the woman's refusal, "for it is I who shall decide your fate."

A heartbeat of silence. "To make my atonement," the priestess whispered, her gaze falling to the bed cover.

"Atonement?" Nefertari asked, taken aback. "For what?"

"I encouraged Lord Ahmen to know me," Meresamun answered, quiet. Her blue eyes lifted up, filled with shame. "My lady, I have committed a terrible crime. I am--was--a priestess."

"Ah," Nefertari nodded, understanding. "You were on your way to confess."

"No," Meresamun whispered, her fingers toying with the cushion's tassels, nervous. "I cannot go back to the temple."

"And why not?" Nefertari demanded, perplexed.

A long silence. Then: "Pharaoh Ramesses, Blessed of Re, took me from the temple to protect me from my punishment. If I were to go back, he would face retribution."

Nefertari leaned forward, tendrils of jealousy rising anew, tightening around her heart. "He protected you because he intended you for himself?" she asked, taut.

"No, because he pitied me," Meresamun answered, low, after an uncertain silence. "I was prepared to face my punishment, but he intervened and sent me back to Ahmen."

Nefertari couldn't keep up. She went back to the beginning. "If the pharaoh has reprieved you, why would you need to make atonement?"

Meresamun cast aside the cushion. "How shall I live in peace when my crimes have been paid for with the blood and suffering of innocents?" she cried out, anguished. "I cannot. I prayed to Sekhmet. Last night I sensed her answer: Until I have atoned, until she has forgiven me, Ahmen will not find me again."

Nefertari frowned. What blood and suffering? She tried to make sense of Meresamun's words. Ah. The lion hunt. She was talking about Haran. "Then where were you going? Where could you go?"

"Back to my mother and father in Babylon," Meresamun said, soft. "I pray they still live."

Nefertari stared at the woman, incredulous. Babylon was on the other side of the world. Meresamun would never make it. She had chosen death, the true path of atonement. Learning Meresamun had chosen Ahmen over Ramesses was enough to make Nefertari's journey from the palace worth every risk. The woman should be rewarded, not punished.

Nefertari had heard enough. She moved to the door. "Your honor compels me to aid you. A private barque will be arranged to carry you to Pi-Ramesses."

"My lady--"

Nefertari raised her hand. "Right now, the pharaoh is tearing the city apart searching for you. I have it in my power to ensure there will be no trace left of your departure, but if I do so, at great risk to myself, you must never speak of this to anyone. Do you agree?"

Meresamun nodded. Their eyes met, and for the briefest heartbeat, Nefertari recognized herself in the woman before her; caged, powerless, their paths decided by men and their gods. She pulled the veil away.

Meresamun's eyes widened, fearful. "Your Majesty, I . . ."

Nefertari opened the door. "I admire your courage," she murmured. "I pray you will find your absolution. I believe you, above all others, deserve to know peace."

❃

"You have not found her, then?" Ramesses asked.

Ahmen shook his head, numb. "No, my lord. It is as if she has vanished."

Ramesses gestured to the chief constable to give his report.

"Your Majesty," he said as he unfurled a scroll and read over the notes, "no building in Waset has gone unsearched over these last three days. If she is still alive, then the Lady Meresamun is not in Waset. According to the dock master's records, two barques left for Pi-Ramesses the day she went missing. She may be traveling with one of them, though there is no record of her booking passage."

Ramesses looked at Ahmen. "What do you say, had she any way to pay for her passage?"

Ahmen handed a papyrus over to Ramesses. "Everything in my house is accounted for. As for the gifts you acquired for her, they have all been left behind."

Ramesses looked over the notations, silent.

Ahmen looked down at the floor as the chief constable departed, hearing Ramesses as though from a great distance, imagining watching himself from the other side of the room, none of it happening to him. He realized he had not heard what Ramesses had been saying. He forced himself to pay attention.

" . . . I will dispatch a courier to the mayor of Pi-Ramesses. If Meresamun somehow took one of those barques, we still have a chance of finding her and bringing her home."

Ahmen rubbed his eyes. Pi-Ramesses was three times the size of Waset. How would he ever find her? He sensed Ramesses was waiting.

"My lord, thank you."

Ramesses grasped Ahmen's shoulders. "Speak your mind," he said, "I can see you are suffering. At such a time as this, you need not hide your feelings from me."

Ahmen looked up and saw the friend of his youth. The barrier he had sustained for three days disintegrated. "We have no idea where she is," he said, sick with despair. "She could already be on her way to the Nubian mines, bound in chains, forced to be a water bearer--or worse. What if we never find her, never know if she is alive or dead? How can I go on, eating and living if she is suffering? It is unbearable."

Ramesses patted Ahmen's shoulder, his movements awkward. Silence fell and lengthened. Ahmen closed his eyes. It was hopeless. A tear escaped.

Ramesses cleared his throat. "Have faith. I am the Pharaoh of Egypt. I have the resources to find her, though it may take some time. I too do not sleep, or have an appetite to eat. There can be no satisfaction until she is brought back to us. I will not leave you alone in this, I swear it."

Ahmen met Ramesses's eyes. "Unless this is the true punishment of Sekhmet," he whispered, haunted.

For a heartbeat, Ramesses did not reply. He turned away. "In my darkest thoughts," he answered in a low voice, "I have wondered the same, myself."