Free The Twelfth Transforming by Pauline Gedge Page B

shoulders and against her mouth, but Nefertiti lay on her back with eyes closed, rocking in Tiye’s small swell, her hands moving like copper fish just beneath the surface.
    Later they sat side by side under Tiye’s canopy, hair plastered to their backs, water beading on their brown skins and running down their spines.
    “It will be a good Feast of Opet this year,” Nefertiti said, delicately picking dried grass from her wet thigh. “In a little over two months the prince will be returning from Memphis.”
    “He seems fond of you,” Tiye replied. “You must be careful how you approach him, Nefertiti. His affection for you gives you great power over him. The marriage contracts are ready for Pharaoh’s seal.”
    The gray eyes, now paled to a soft dove color under the glare of the sun, squinted into Tiye’s own. “And I am ready to be to Amunhotep what you, Majesty Aunt, have been to the Mighty Bull.” She smiled with great sweetness, showing small white teeth, and began whistling at the monkey, who rushed forward and began to lick her damp arms.
    “Indeed!” Tiye retorted tartly. “Such a promise of selfless devotion does you credit. Your father will be delighted.” Nefertiti shot her a level look from beneath dark, feathered brows, and Tiye knew that she had been understood. “There is feasting tonight for the mayor of Nefrusi,” she went on. “He is to receive the Gold of Favors at my command. His city lies just within our border with Syria, and he has done good work in helping Horemheb to keep the border quiet. I want you to honor him in my place, Nefertiti, so that I may spend the evening with Pharaoh. Your father and Sitamun will share the dais with you.”
    Nefertiti merely nodded without comment. The monkey had fallen asleep, sprawled across her knees. “Is Horemheb to be recalled to Thebes when the prince returns?”
    “Why?” Tiye asked sharply.
    The girl shrugged. “It is just that he and the prince have become friends. Amunhotep might be lonely without him.”
    So you are not as sure of your power over my son as I had thought , Tiye mused, but you are clever enough to see it. Shall Horemheb come or not?
    “If I think there is a need to recall the commander with my son, I shall do so,” she said aloud. “Take my advice, Nefertiti. Never try to influence a man through his friends. Either he will misunderstand and become jealous, or you will fail to win their confidence and so earn their scorn. Men are not like women. It is always better to approach them directly.”
    Nefertiti flushed, biting her lip, and Tiye relented. “Amunhotep has great affection for you,” she finished gently. “You do not need Horemheb for a go-between.”
    She bade Nefertiti go and sleep and herself made her way to the nursery, where Smenkhara lay naked in his cot, guarded by two Followers of His Majesty, his tiny limbs loose on the sheet, his nostrils quivering as he slept. Tiye questioned the men and the wet nurse briefly, bent to kiss the fuzz of black hair beaded with the sweat of the afternoon, and went to her own couch. Sitamun must be watched closely , she thought drowsily as she turned on her side and prepared to slide into unconsciousness. She will make no move until Pharaoh is dead, but her claim upon the prince as a fully royal daughter is very strong. She is devious enough to resort to all the ancient laws of precedence if given the chance .
    Pharaoh was sitting beside his ornamental lake, throwing crumbs to a flock of raucous ducks, as Tiye walked across the garden later that day. The sun had already sunk behind the wall that sheltered the rear of the palace from the sand and cliffs of the western desert and the dead who crowded the land between. Shafts of red light lay across the lawns, still suffused with a heat that beat against her shins and splashed flame up her abdomen. Surero knelt at Pharaoh’s feet, while Apuia, his butler, was bending over his shoulder under the rhythmic swish of the ostrich