Free Servant of the Gods by Valerie Douglas Page A

lacking one of his body. A few speculated that Kamenwati would be named, and there were fearful glances among those who spoke that name.
    The man himself was there, standing behind the King as always as his chief advisor, as he had on those other occasions, his face expressionless. Irisi kept her glance from meeting his directly although she’d learned better how to guard herself against such glamours during her time in Isis’s temple.
    Still, she was wary of him.
    This was a far larger and grander hall than the small one where the King usually took his audiences. The number of people was greater here, too.
    King Narmer, a tall handsome man, sat only scant feet away from them, his lady wife beside him, raised on a dais that put him slightly above Banafrit, as Banafrit stood on the level above Irisi, as befit the High Priestess of Isis. Around them were the High Priests and Priestesses of the other Gods. Irisi smiled to see Djeserit, Sekhmet’s priestess, giving a small nod of her head to the other priestess.
    Smiling in return, Djeserit inclined her head as well.
    They’d become friends of a sort, in the rare times they met.
    At the King’s side was his Queen consort, Paniwi, despite rumors that she was barren. A few whispered that, despite Narmer’s love for her, he would have to put her aside or else take a concubine.
    Paniwi wasn’t a particularly beautiful woman in appearance but she was in soul. Wisdom was reflected in her deep brown eyes, a sense of calm knowledge graced with kindness and fortified with steely resolve. A redoubtable woman in every sense, she’d studied among the priests and priestesses in her time. Her dark eyes watched, observed, and Irisi noted from Paniwi’s expression that she held no love for the Grand Vizier, either, nor he for her, although it was nothing anyone would have seen who wasn’t looking to see it.
    To each side of the King and a step below were the King’s Nubian guards. Another pair stood at the bottom of the dais so that there were six in all.
    The King had even called back his generals, which bespoke the importance of the occasion. To Irisi’s pleasure she saw that Khai now numbered among them. She’d seen him only rarely since she’d come to Thebes, usually riding past with his men, but he hadn’t seen her. Which was as well as each time the sight of him sent an odd pang through her. Her heart lifted a little too, a small curl of warmth moving through her at the memory of their short time together. Remembering that one night, the pleasure of it, sent a shiver through her.
    It was good, though, to find he’d been promoted. Having faced his troops and seen him in command, she knew he was a good and able leader – and now a General. She was glad for him. He’d treated her well when it hadn’t been necessary.
    Nothing about him had changed. He was still as handsome a man as she’d ever known with his high cheekbones and slightly aquiline nose. As she’d remembered, his dark eyes were touched a little with gold, and his neatly trimmed beard framed his full mouth and his square jaw. The dark kilt he wore suited his tawny skin, the brief garment revealing the strong muscles of his arms and chest.
    Feeling eyes on him, Khai looked over to where the priests and priestesses stood. He knew many of them but he also saw a new face among them…a familiar one…with eyes like no other, kohl-rimmed and brilliantly blue for it, her golden hair streaming over her shoulders.
    His heart lifted and his breath caught.
    She’d haunted him, the warrior from the northern lands. The thought of her in Kamenwati’s house had sickened him, especially after he’d heard rumors of what went on there. He’d learned that Kamenwati had put her in the ring to fight for wagers. Fearing to find her spirit broken, Khai had gone to see her fight on one of his return journeys to Thebes. It had been a relief to see her still as sure, her bearing still proud but it had disturbed him to watch