Sethi leaned back in his chair and wiped his napkin across his mouth, watching Henufkhet as he cleared the platters away; his movements fluid and graceful, a complex dance to which only the pharaoh's steward knew the patterns.

"Commander," Nefertari said into the post-dinner lull, leaning forward to see past her husband, "your valor in the battle against Hatti has not gone unnoticed by your queen. A little to the north of Waset there belongs to me a fine villa with rich fields surrounding it. You will accept it as my gift."

"Great Queen," Sethi bowed his head, his fist against his chest, "knowing Your Majesties are safe and unharmed is enough commensuration for me."

"Commander, the villa is yours, though your humility in accepting my gift pleases me well." She took sip of wine. "And what of a wife to help you enjoy your new home? I do not believe the military life is so fulfilling it takes away one's desire for a home, wife, and children."

"Ah, beware, Commander," Paser said, patting the corner of his napkin against his mouth, "once our queen has decided you should be wed, you will find yourself wed to a woman of her choosing before you even realize it has been done--" he raised his gilded cup to Nefertari, "--just as I was to Lady Imtes last summer."

Recalling the haste surrounding the vizier's marriage--in the wake of the delicious scandal of Imtes traveling alone one night to his estate--Sethi suppressed a smile at Paser's economy with the truth.

"If the queen were to find me a wife with Lady Imtes's qualities and beauty," Sethi answered, leaning in to collect a handful of almonds from an alabaster dish, "I would be delighted to oblige, although who could match a woman as fine as the queen's own sister? My Lord Paser, when you wed, you took the last decent woman in Egypt. There is nothing for it. I shall have to remain alone."

"You propose for me a challenge, Commander?" Nefertari suggested, pleased. She took another sip of wine, warming to the subject. "Of course, I accept. I must wait until we return to be certain, but I have heard of a--"

Ramesses raised his hand, abrupt, cutting her off. She lowered her gaze, her lashes sweeping down against her cheeks. A faint smear of color crept up from her neck, staining her profile. Ignoring her, Ramesses drank the last of his wine, taking his time, letting the uncomfortable silence stretch, heavy and oppressive.

"Paser informs me he has advised you of your additional responsibility during the march home," he said as he pushed his cup to the side, watching Henufkhet refill it. He lifted the cup and swirled its contents. "You will protect the woman from Kadesh," he continued, his gaze on the ruby liquid, "to the death if necessary."

Paser met Sethi's look, the vizier's cold and unapologetic. Sethi suppressed a scoff. The vizier had done no such thing. "A great honor, Your Majesty," Sethi said, lowering his eyes to hide his irritation. "I will not fail you."

"Though she is a hostage of Egypt, she is not our enemy or a prisoner. You will treat her with all the respect due to one born of royal blood. Whatever she requests, if it is within your power to provide it, you will do so."

Sethi nodded. He reached for his cup, pleased by the steadiness of his hand, thinking of the woman in his tent; of her elaborate clothing and jewelry, Paser's veiled threats and the silver armband still tucked into his pouch, its slight weight suddenly heavy, filled with burden. Taking a sip, he asked, "And from whom are we holding her hostage?"

"The Crown Prince of Hatti, who is her husband," Ramesses said, expressionless. "It is our great fortune he values her life more than his own."

Sethi blinked, stunned. He had been dreaming all this time of Hatti's queen-in-waiting? He almost laughed. The gods were cruel indeed. He struggled to make the pieces fit. "But how is it even possible she is here?" he blurted, still reeling from the knowledge he had been searching for the only woman in the world he could never have. "Did Na'arn's division cross paths with her retinue in the mountain pass?"

"No," Ramesses answered, quiet. He took another sip of wine. "She came from Kadesh, alone, to warn me of the ambush. Though I left her protected within the enclosure, she fled. Last night, Henufkhet found her kneeling in the mud sewing my men back together. It was she who bound those injuries of yours, Commander. A skilled woman by the look of it." He turned, his gaze settling on Nefertari, hostile. "These are the actions of an honorable woman. A woman fit to be my queen. But you--what you tried to do. Your guards have admitted the truth. All of it."

Sethi lowered his cup, his own troubles falling to the side as the blood drained from Nefertari's face. She parted her lips, but no words came. Paser stood, abrupt, his seat toppling over. It hit the rug with a soft thud.

"My lord," he said, tight. "I advised the queen to use Princess Istara as a bargaining tool should the queen face grave danger. Her Highness is not to blame for what happened. The responsibility is mine to bear."

"I admire your loyalty to your queen," Ramesses said, his eyes continuing to bore into Nefertari, wilting under his antipathy, "but I know the truth. You would never gainsay my command. But you, Nefertari, you are sick with your jealousies. Perhaps you thought yourself clever, using your family's wealth to pay the remaining costs of the campaign so you could stay by my side. Do you know what the council thought of your joining the march? A mockery. You should have stayed in Waset with your women, where you belong."

Paser stepped closer, his face ashen. "My lord, I beg you. This is a private matter." He tilted his head at Sethi, meaningful.

Sethi rose, grateful for Paser's meddling, for once.

"Lord Sethi stays," Ramesses snapped. Uneasy, Sethi sank back down onto his seat.

Returning his attention to Nefertari, Ramesses continued. "You willfully disobeyed my command to protect the Princess of Kadesh. Instead you sent her out to die, thinking to rid yourself of her. But Re sent her to me to protect Egypt in its hour of need, not once, but twice. Be grateful she survived your little game because her life guarantees my men will live to see Egypt again, you will live to see your children again."

He stopped to take a deep drink of wine, swallowing it in short, hard gulps. Sethi caught the glint of tears in Nefertari's eyes, bright in the lamplight. Paser still stood, rigid, his eyes moving from Ramesses to the queen, back and forth, helpless. Never before had Sethi seen the vizier so undone.

Ramesses slammed his empty cup back onto the table, making the golden platters ratttle. "Across the river," he muttered, tight, "twenty thousand foot soldiers stand ready in Hatti's camp. Though I am loathe to say it, the Princess of Kadesh's life will prevent our enemy from launching a second attack. Her life will grant us the time we need to retreat. So, tell me," he demanded, harsh, his eyes cold, "Queen of Egypt, who are you to dare to put yourself above the affairs of gods and kings?"

Stricken, Nefertari slid from her seat and sank onto her knees. "My lord," she pleaded, trembling, "forgive me, I beg you. I was afraid, so afraid. I forgot myself. Anything you ask of me, I shall remedy it. Please, Your Majesty. It is unbearable to displease you."

Ramesses scoffed. He shot a look at Paser and made an impatient gesture toward the camp. His expression taut, Paser bowed and left. Her breathing shallow, Nefertari huddled closer to her husband, her fingertips touching the arm of Ramesses's chair, plaintive. Using his elbow he shoved her away, rough. He turned in his seat and put his back to her. She cried out, distraught.

"Get out," he said. "I cannot bear your presence. I will not see you until Pi-Ramesses, perhaps not even then. I might send you away so I shall never have to look upon your face again."

Her body quivering, Nefertari took hold of the table's edge and pulled herself up. She looked at Ramesses, desperate, her chest rising and falling, caught by her ragged breaths. He ignored her. She whimpered and back away, stumbling from the tent. From the vestibule, a shuddered sob. Then, she was gone.

Sethi turned his cup in his hands, studying the wine's swirl. He had witnessed a terrible thing. He wished he hadn't. A long silence passed.

"I have done a dishonorable thing," Ramesses said, abrupt, his words slicing into the oppressive quiet. "I have no intention of returning Istara to the Prince of Hatti, none at all. I have deceived him. Once we reach Pi-Ramesses, I plan to take her one as of my own queens, perhaps even as my first queen."

Sethi's fingers tightened on his cup. "My lord, if so, it is your decision, but why confide this to me?"

Ramesses fell silent. He poured himself more wine. Taking up his cup, he stared at it, then put it back down, its contents untouched. "Am I wrong to want to take her as compensation for the crimes Hatti has committed against Egypt?"

Sethi balked at the loaded question. Ramesses waved it away. "No. Don't answer. I know I am wrong. She has been bound in blood to Urhi-Teshub, yet I cannot bring myself to care. I must have her for myself. I want her by my side, in my bed . . . the woman's courage is undeniable. She is more than worthy to stand by my side."

Resigned, Sethi lifted his fist to his chest, regretting the years he had spent waiting for Istara. Hatti's queen-in-waiting. He scoffed. Even to him, the third most powerful man in Egypt, she was utterly untouchable. He bowed his head. "I will guard her with my life."

Quiet voices drifted from the vestibule. Paser entered, followed by a slim woman dressed in a beautiful white linen gown, her long, dark hair held in place by thin, golden band. Sethi came to his feet. Her dark eyes met his, glassy in the lamplight. A memory of her cradled in his arms exploded into his consciousness. His fingers had traced her lips. He had vowed never to let her go. His heart betrayed him. It cried out for her, its longing visceral. His fingers tightened on his cup, his need to touch her overpowering. He stared at her, the one he had been waiting for, standing in front of him, only a few steps away. The one he could never have. It was too much. He emptied his cup. For thirty days, he would be forced to protect her on the long march home. No, it would be impossible. He couldn't--

He caught Paser watching him, narrow. Sethi wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and poured himself another drink. He tossed it back, seeking to numb his reaction to her, to regain his composure.

"It has been decided it will be safest if you return with us to Pi-Ramesses," Ramesses said, gesturing for Sethi to move closer, "under the protection of Lord Commander Sethi."

"Princess Istara," Sethi bowed, though he kept his eyes on her.

Her eyes slid over him, vague, distracted. "Safest for whom?" she asked no one in particular.

Ramesses returned to the table and filled Nefertari's empty cup. He carried it back to Istara. "You will be well cared for. If there is anything you wish to have, you need only ask," he answered, avoiding her question. He held out the cup to her.

"Then I shall ask just one thing," she said as she took the cup, her words sliding together as though she had already imbibed more than enough wine for the evening. "I wish to know what you intend to do with me."

Ramesses waited until she took a sip. "I intend to take you Pi-Ramesses," he answered. "Kadesh has proven its loyalty to us with its blood. Though I cannot reward your father, your courage will not go uncompensated. You have my word as the Pharaoh of Egypt."

"You have news of my father?" she asked, faint. She staggered, as though drunk. Paser caught her elbow, steadying her.

Ramesses lifted her chin, so her eyes met his. "During the battle, your father and his men turned against the Hittites to fight alongside the princes of Amurru," he explained, gentle. "He killed many of Muwatallis's men before he was overtaken. He died with honor, and my deepest respect."

A heartbeat of confused silence. "He is dead?"

Ramesses hesitated. "Beheaded."

She said nothing. Her eyes blank, she finished the wine. She held out her cup to Sethi. "I would have another."

He took it, careful not to let his fingers touch hers. Surrounded by silence, he refilled it and returned. She drank it all, handing the empty cup to Ramesses. Paser took it and set it aside. Her eyes glazed, she stood, swaying, staring at the table, unseeing. Ramesses glanced at Sethi and tilted his head toward the camp, the message clear. It was time to take her away.

Keeping his eyes averted, Sethi half-led, half-supported Istara as she stumbled, leaden, from the enclosure. Halfway to Pre's camp, she collapsed. He caught her, carrying her the rest of the way, tormented by the nearness of her, the familiarity of her body cradled against his chest. Haunted by the memory of the night before, he quickened his steps, thinking of the battle, of death, of anything but the forbidden woman in his arms.

Within his tent, he knelt and lay her on his pallet. Dropping a blanket over her, he checked the brazier's fuel, pausing to add more, his movements sloppy with haste, praying she wouldn't wake. Back out in the cold, clean air, the memory of her sleeping in his arms returned, vivid, visceral; an irrational, intense impulse to join her slammed into him. He bit back a curse, shoving his way through the tents, desperate to distance himself from her; her sudden, inexplicable, impossible presence in his life calling out to him like the beating of his own heart. He passed a group of soldiers sitting by a fire and sent one of them to put a pallet in the command tent. He watched the soldier hurry away to do his bidding, shouting after him to find a skin of wine as well. He half-turned, thinking to empty the wineskin, to blunt himself in drink. He stopped. No. It wouldn't be enough. He knew what he needed to do. Without looking back, he strode away into the night.