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returned Yosef to her. She would be able to walk and talk with
him in the garden, far away from the sniping eyes of the other
wives. Best of all, Zaphenath-paneah would share in her
happiness.
She knew she made a pretty picture as she dabbed her
fingers in her makeup pot and colored her eyes and lips. Tuth-
mosis had been more understanding and sympathetic than she
had ever dreamed he could be. In the years since he had learned
of Yosef’s El Shaddai, the king had been increasingly open to
new ideas and less apt to adhere to the traditional, formal ways
of living. The gods of Egypt had failed to predict or prevent
the famine presently sweeping the world, and Tuthmosis knew
only a greater god could have sent Zaphenath-paneah to lead
them through the catastrophe of worldwide drought.
She spent the morning listening to the idle chatter of her
maids, then she slipped into the gardens where she knew
she’d find the crown prince and his tutor. The sky stretched
pure blue from north to south, without even a suggestion of
cloudiness. A living warmth emanated from the sun, and a de-
licious sense of anticipation spread through Tuya’s limbs as
she walked among the flowers and looked for her loved ones.
There. Ahead on the path, the prince walked with the vizier.
Her son’s head came to Yosef’s shoulder, and with a tinge of
pride Tuya noticed that Amenhotep’s shoulders had begun to
broaden. Already she could see Yosef’s influence, for her son
and his tutor moved down the path as if they were reflections
of a single soul. Both walked with their heads held high, their
hands clasped behind their backs, their shoulders squared.
Tuya called a greeting. “Oh, Zaphenath-paneah, live for-
ever! And, Amenhotep, Crown Prince, may the gods grant you
a hundred and ten years of prosperity!”
They turned, alike in their posture, and regarded her with
pleased surprise. “Pharaoh said you might be joining us,”
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Yosef said, warming her with his smile. “We are honored to
walk with you, Queen Tuya.”
Her son did not answer, and from the confusion in his eyes
Tuya realized he did not know how to respond. She reached
out and drew him to her side. “It’s all right, my prince,” she
said, allowing herself to cling to him only for a moment.
“Though you have a new name and a new position, I am still
your mother and you may tell me anything you wish. I can
keep a confidence as well as the vizier.” She smiled. “And I
am nearly as wise.”
A chuckle escaped from Yosef, and the prince met Tuya’s
eyes with a smile that penetrated her heart. “It is good to see
you, Royal Mother,” Amenhotep said, his voice deeper than
Tuya remembered it. “I have missed you.”
“And I you.” She draped her arm over the boy’s shoulder
and turned to Yosef. “Now, what were you discussing? Per-
haps it would be helpful to have a woman’s viewpoint.”
“Indeed it might,” Yosef answered, thrusting his hands
behind his back again. And on they walked, discussing the
plight of the farmers south of Thebes.
Not until Tuya returned to her chamber did she realize that
during the time with Yosef she had not once thought of the
garden at Potiphar’s house.
Narmer leaned against the door to the queen’s private
chamber and regarded Mutemwiya with a sly smile.
“What?” she snapped. “Why do you stand there grinning like
a fool? I told you not to come to me unless you had good news.”
“Perhaps I do,” he said, slinking toward her. He sat in a
chair and crossed his legs, confident of his ability to please.
“What sort of news do you want to hear?”
“I want to hear something I don’t already know.” Mutem-
wiya swung her legs from the bed and leaned toward him, her
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spine curving like a curious cat’s. “Don’t tell me the Nile has
failed to flood a second time. Don’t mention that the earth
bakes beneath our feet and still there is food for all of Egypt.
And don’t remind me that Pharaoh is healthy, young and
strong while you grow older every day—”
“You grow older, too, my dear Mut,” Narmer answered, his
eyes narrowing. “How many years have you waited for this
rebellion? Forty? Forty-five? Or are you as ageless as the
Sphinx our pharaoh honors?”
The queen crossed her arms. “Two years ago you told me
it would be simple to destroy the vizier and the brat, yet the
boy is almost of age! When Pharaoh dies, Amenhotep will not
need me to be his regent. And if he suspects that you are less
than devoted, he will be old enough to send you to the gallows.”
Narmer lifted a brow. “That won’t happen, for Egypt will
starve soon—”
“Egypt will not starve! That cursed vizier has enough grain
stored for ten years!”
“But he has not made provision for everything.” Narmer
uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, eager to share the plan
he’d been formulating. “You are right, dear Mut, about the
king’s health and power. And I suspect you’re right about the
stored provisions, but none of Zaphenath-paneah’s men will
discuss the matter. Apparently he has warned them about at-
tempted sabotage, and he does not trust even the captain of
the king’s guards.”
“The vizier is a clever man. No wonder Pharaoh adores him.”
Narmer shrugged. “The time has come, dear Mut, to take
action of our own. We must send Tuthmosis into the under-
world by the strength of our own hands.”
She did not grow pale or scream at his suggestion, but
studied him as if measuring his determination. “So…how can
this be done?”
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Narmer leaned forward. “I have thought on it for days. Tell
me, dear Mut—what does your husband our pharaoh dearly
love to do?”
Mutemwiya frowned. “Refurbish the ancient temples?”
Narmer resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “He hunts.
Don’t you see? The other day while I was visiting his tomb,
I studied the pictures painted on the walls. The artists have
depicted him riding in his chariot and pulling back his golden
bow. Before his chariot, the artists have drawn the many lions,
tigers, antelopes and gazelles the king has slain—”
“What,” the queen interrupted, “has this to do with us?”
“Don’t you see? The king is young and powerful, but
hunting is a dangerous sport.”
Mutemwiya’s eyes widened.
Narmer gave her a tight smile. “I shall take him hunting. I
shall take Pharaoh to hunt the most vicious, most powerful
animals on the earth. And he shall not come back alive.”
Mutemwiya’s hand clenched his arm like an eagle’s talon.
“Are you certain? He is a good hunter.”
“Don’t worry, my dear.” Narmer leaned closer. “I can
arrange it.Yet if the gods take my life instead of the king’s, this
conversation will perish with me. I assume all the risk…and
when I return, I shall expect to be crowned with glory.”
She eyed him with a calculating look, then promised him
the world in a white-hot kiss.
For ten days Tuya did not see Tuthmosis, then she heard
that Pharaoh was planning a hunting expedition in the lands
south of the first cataract. He would be gone for some time,
explained the slave who brought her the news, and so he was
busy arranging matters with his vizier and giving gifts to all
his wives and concubines.
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She sighed at the news, then retreated to her chambers. For
some reason the knowledge that he had visited the other
women sparked jealousy in her heart, and she wondered that
she could feel jealous after sixteen years of marriage to a man
with a multitude of wives. But Tuthmosis had been more than
kind, allowing her to visit with Amenhotep and Yosef in the
garden. He could have forbidden her this favor, because
Amenhotep was practically Mutemwiya’s husband and le-
gally no longer Tuya’s son. By allowing her to continue her
relationship with her child, he risked causing turmoil among
the royal women.
Fortunately, Mutemwiya did not seem to care what
Amenhotep did.
Tuya had everything she had ever dreamed of; still she
wished Tuthmosis would send for her. He had always been
able to make her laugh, and his companionship had been a
great comfort. After missing him for many days, she felt as if
a section of her body had been torn away. Surely this was not
love—or was it? The emotion was not the same as what she
had felt in Potiphar’s garden with Yosef, yet sparks of unex-
pected happiness shot through her whenever she heard the
steady tramp of the king’s guard outside her door.
Two weeks later, Tuthmosis finally appeared at her cham-
ber’s threshold. The priests sang their hymns and symbolically
put him to bed; their servants removed the double crown and
the traditional elements of regalia. When everyone had gone
and left Tuya alone with her husband, Pharaoh opened his
arms and Tuya walked away.
“What’s this?” Concern edged his voice. “Don’t tell me
you’re angry because I’m going away.”
“You’ve been away already,” Tuya said, pretending to
pout. “You’ve kept yourself from me as you said goodbye to
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all your other wives. Your servants told me what you were up
to. You were so busy taking the others gifts—”
“I had to give them something,” he said, tossing the
ceremonial bedcovers away. He stood and approached her.
Though she felt his breath on her neck, he did not touch her.
“They are my wives, Tuya. I must honor them.”
She opened her hand. “Fine, where’s my gift? I suppose I
can toss this gold necklace into the treasure box with the others.”
“No.” When a smile rippled through his voice, Tuya turned
to discover that Tuthmosis had thrust his hands behind his
back. “No gold necklace for you, bride of my youth. I married
you because you were beautiful, you know. I keep you be-
cause you are honest.”
His teasing smile brought a warm tingle to her heart.
“Wives can be too honest, my husband. Now give me my
present so I can wear it tomorrow as we watch you depart the
palace. I don’t want to be the only royal wife without whatever
it is you are offering.”
His eyes steadied upon her face. “I offer you my heart and
soul.”
She nodded. “I accept. Now give me my trinket so you can
be on your way.”
She stepped toward him, trying to reach whatever he had
hidden behind his back, but he dodged her with athletic grace,
grinning the entire time. Finally, breathless and smiling, she
propped her hands on her hips. “Tuthmosis—” she struggled
to keep laughter from her voice “—give me the cursed
necklace!”
“I didn’t bring you a necklace. I hope you won’t mind
being the only wife without one.”
“What, then?”
“Put out your hand and close your eyes.”
Tuya did so, reluctantly, and gasped when a feather-light
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object brushed her palm. When she opened her eyes, she saw
that her husband had given her a blue lotus blossom.
“Oh.” She breathed in the heady scent. “Where did you find
it?”
“I’ve had my most trusted men searching for blue lotus
plants ever since you told me you loved them,” he answered,
his eyes fastened to her face. “We found some growing far
south of here, and we will plant them in the pools of the
garden where you walk every day. Zaphenath-paneah is to
bring you a bowlful of blossoms every morning as long as we
are apart. They are my gift to you, Tuya. Only you.”
She ran her finger over the flower’s delicate petals. “It’s
beautiful.”
“Do you truly want a golden necklace?” Tuthmosis asked.
“I could get one for you—”
“—with no trouble at all,” Tuya finished, lifting her gaze
to meet his. “And the gift would not mean nearly as much as
this flower. I don’t want gold, my husband. All I want is—”
she extended her hand to him “—right here.”
He opened his arms and she came into them, resting her
head on his shoulder. Tuthmosis was more comforting than
challenging, but he had invested more of himself in this gift
than in a thousand chains of gold. In that moment she realized
that Tuthmosis loved her with his life; she was his heart’s
companion. Though Mutemwiya wore the crown, though
other wives were younger and more vivacious, she knew her
husband best.
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Did you mean it
when you offered me your heart and soul?”
“Yes.” His hand brushed her hair. “And my love, Tuya, is
yours if you will accept it. Now that I am a man, I know what
love is, and I know I love you more than life itself. That is why
I waited to come to you. I saved the best for last.”
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Why had her heart spent so much time yearning for the