Free Daughter of the Gods by Stephanie Thornton Page A

The Division of Horus awaits your orders.”
    Thut waved his hand. He seemed pale, even in the torchlight. “Fine. Send the men.”
    Hatshepsut linked her arm through her brother’s. This was her chance. “Thut, if you’d prefer, I can see to this and give you a report in the morning.”
    He stopped, his face awash with relief. “You’d do that?”
    “For you? Of course.”
    His hand cupped her face and he brushed an errant braid back under her diadem before looking to Pennekheb and Senenmut. “My sister has my full permission to do whatever is necessary.”
    “Will you join the troops?” Hatshepsut asked before her brother slipped away. His smile disappeared, replaced by a sickly pallor.
    “It’s entirely unnecessary for you to supervise the troops,” Senenmut said. “In fact, your presence might make the situation more volatile. You would give our enemy a highly visible and extremely prized target.”
    “Nubia rebels every time the Isis Throne changes hands. Each time they’ve been easily conquered,” Thut said.
    “We’ll see to the details,” Senenmut reassured him. “A swift response will ensure our victory.”
    Hatshepsut noted the slowness of Thut’s step as he made his way up the dock alone. The double crown had already aged her brother, while the very idea of ruling invigorated her.
    If only she were a man. Hatshepsut would have loved the opportunity to leave the capital, to secure her people’s love and the military’s loyalty. Instead, she was cursed with a man’s
ka
in a woman’s body.
    She turned on Senenmut and Pennekheb once her brother was out of earshot. “What was that all about?”
    Senenmut’s eyes followed Thut’s departing form. His voice was low when he spoke. “Your brother detests fighting.”
    “But he fought in Canaan with my father,” Hatshepsut said.
    Senenmut shook his head. There was a long silence. “Your brother never fought,” he finally said, so softly Hatshepsut thought she had misheard him. “He stayed in his tent whenever there was a battle, complaining of one ailment or another.”
    Thut was a coward? Hatshepsut was so stunned she couldn’t speak.
    Admiral Pennekheb shifted his weight, leaning on his cane. The lines at his eyes had spread to the rest of his face—a wrinkle for each battle he had fought in the name of Egypt. Pennekheb had served his country for many years, but Egypt still needed him, especially now. “I informed the pharaoh of the insurrection early this morning,” he said. “I had hoped that he would be moved to take action, but—”
    Hatshepsut whirled on Senenmut, unable to contain her anger any longer. And she was more than angry; she was furious at him, at her brother, and even at her father for abandoning her when she needed him most. “None of this would have happened if you’d voiced your concerns to Thutmosis after my father died.”
    Senenmut blinked. “I did speak to your brother,” he said, measuring his words carefully. “The pharaoh decided not to devote Egypt’s resources to averting what he believed was a remote chance of a foreign revolt.”
    Her fury vanished, leaving her strangely empty. She’d always understood that Thut was cautious, but seeing this new side of him was like meeting a foreigner for the first time, a weak-willed stranger she didn’t care to acknowledge. It occurred to her how little she knew the brother she’d grown up with, the man she was soon to marry.
    “From now on I need to be informed regarding all military matters,” Hatshepsut said, her voice hollow. “In addition to my brother, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “As you wish,
Hemet,
” the aging general agreed as the trio walked into the palace. “We should sort out the details regarding Nubia. The Division of Horus is standing by to move out as soon as they receive orders to do so.”
    “A punitive strike—a fast one—would be the best course of action,” Senenmut said. “Take out those responsible for the insurrection