Free The Pharaoh's Daughter by Mesu Andrews Page A

barque. Even King Tut, seated on his gilded palanquin on six Medjays’ shoulders, had glanced over his shoulder to see the source of the ruckus. Master Sebak strutted as if he were the king of Egypt, his new bride at his side.
    Mered chuckled at the memory. Sebak had been as nervous as a schoolboy when he’d docked his ship at midday to finalize preparations for the royal family’s arrival. True to his character, when the work was done, he’d permitted every Avaris slave—skilled and unskilled—to gather at the quay and welcome the royal guests. A grand entrance before the main event.
    Mered hid behind an acacia tree in the villa’s garden entry, vicariously enjoying the wedding feast. The meal was long past. Musicians played a lively tune while dancers swirled veils around half-drunk guests. The dark date beer had been much appreciated. Mered must congratulate the brewer.
    Sebak’s young bride was lovely—Amira Anippe, they would call her—and she looked like the goddess Isis in the wedding gown Mered had designed. It was the sheerest
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sheath his shop had ever made, the Avaris symbol woven proudly into the selvage. The pleated sheath draped over an equally sheer gown with gold thread and precious stones sewn into the pattern of a palm tree—the Egyptian tree of life. The new amira had gasped when Mered presented it to her.
    â€œ
Masterful
,” she’d said. Sebak had squeezed Mered’s shoulder with approval—praise worth more than ten weeks’ allotment of grain.
    â€œDon’t you have a wife at home?” A low voice startled Mered, and a strong hand whirled him around.
    â€œMaster Sebak.” Mered bowed deeply, ashamed of his spying. “Forgive me. I was … I wanted to see …”
    A deep chuckle drew his gaze. “Get up, Mered. I’m not angry with you.”
    Relief washed over Mered, and the joy on Sebak’s face emboldened him. “Your wife is beautiful, my lord. I pray El-Shaddai’s blessing on a long and happy life together.”
    His master received the words graciously, as he did each time Mered mentioned his God.
    Returning his attention to his bride, Sebak sighed. “She is beautiful, isn’t she—and it emanates from within, my friend.” His features clouded, and he nodded in the direction of his uncle, master of neighboring Qantir. He and Pirameses had been rivals since their fathers died, leaving the boys neighboring estates. “Not like Pirameses’s young wife. That woman poisons everything she touches. Our estates are too close to keep the wives apart, but I don’t want her tainting Anippe’s inner ka.”
    Mered nodded his agreement but wasn’t sure how he could help keep one amira from influencing another.
    â€œAnippe plans to stay busy by using her design and weaving skills in your linen shop, my friend. Perhaps she’ll be too busy to learn the bad habits of Qantir’s amira.”
    Startled at his master’s candor, Mered wasn’t sure which topic to address first—the Avaris amira in his workshop or the Qantir amira’s bad habits. He chose the safest. “I look forward to introducing the amira to our linen processes as soon as she’s ready, my lord.” In truth, he cringed to think of any Egyptian in his workshop, but he would try to be hospitable.
    â€œGood. Good.” Sebak clamped a hand on Mered’s shoulder. “Anippe will come to trust you as I have, Mered. And if she feels comfortable in your workshop, she’ll spend less time in Qantir picking up bad habits from Pirameses’s wife.”
    Mered knew the bad habits included entertaining traveling merchants and disposing of slaves as if they were fleas on a dog.
El-Shaddai, guard our amira’s heart and give the Hebrews favor in her eyes.
    Sebak stood mesmerized, gazing at the wedding feast. “Isn’t she stunning, Mered?”
    â€œShe is,