“I am, my lord. I swear it.”
Akhnaton barked out a scornful laugh. “If so, it would be the first time since your birth. You think because I cannot get a deep read on you, I do not know if you’re lying. I do know, darlingest daughter. I do.”
Krysty sensed Akhnaton’s angry suspicion, and Nefron’s fear came over her in a wave. The girl virtually cringed from her father’s gaze. Krysty moved forward impulsively, gliding between the two. “There is no need for this.”
For a moment, lines of anger furrowed the man’s high brow. Then, with an obviously conscious effort, he smoothed them away. He nodded deferentially to Krysty. “You are right. I slept badly and am out of sorts this morning. Nefron, leave us. I will summon you if I need you.”
The red glint of anger in the girl’s eyes was masked by the downward sweep of her long lashes as she hurried out of the study.
After she was gone, Krysty said, “She is quite good to me, Pharaoh. She has helped me in many ways to make my stay comfortable.”
“She was only following my express command. She has always followed her own agenda.”
“Then why do you keep her around if you mistrust her?” Krysty asked.
Akhnaton frowned. “I have my reasons.”
He dropped his eyes to the title of the book in her hands, and his frown turned into a rueful smile. “Is Alexander a subject of interest for you?”
She laid it down rather guiltily on his desk. “No, not really.”
Akhnaton went to the sideboard and fetched her a goblet of the wine Nefron had poured. “In 332 B.C., Alexander the Great invaded Egypt and assumed the role of pharaoh. He didn’t stay long, but his general and successor, Ptolemy, established a long dynasty, which included Cleopatra.”
He handed her the drinking cup, and for the first time, Krysty saw the marks on his arms and face, the slightly reddened lines of almost healed wounds.
“She was queen in every sense of the word.”
Akhnaton continued. “And you look like a queen, as well…though a bit tired.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night…like you,” she answered softly.
A sly smile touched Akhnaton’s lips. “Bad dreams?”
Krysty sipped the sweet liquid. “I haven’t decided yet. Time will tell.”
“Perhaps you’ve made a decision regarding what we discussed yesterday.”
Tilting her head back slightly, she looked him squarely in the eye. “It’s a lot to absorb in such a short time. I need more proof of our intertwined destinies than a reproduction of an ancient bust dug out of the ground half a world away.”
He angled an eyebrow at her. “Proof? Such as?”
“Proof of your assertion that during the capstone ceremony we’ll both be imbued with the powers of the gods.” She spoke with a teasing, slightly sarcastic drawl.
Akhnaton grinned boyishly, his teeth flashing whitely against his bronzed face. “I’ll admit to overstating on that, simply for dramatic effect. However, the principle is sound and the results will be much the same.”
“How?”
He regarded her keenly, contemplatively for a moment, then plucked the goblet from her fingers. “Come with me and I will show you how.”
They left the study, walked side by side down the corridor, through an arched doorway into another corridor whose walls were inlaid with gold leaf and silver chasing. Brass centers swung from the ceiling, filling the passage with perfumed incense.
“This part of the palace is forbidden to all,” he said. “You are the only human being other than myself who has been here.”
They turned down a smaller, narrower hallway that ended at a brass door. Over the arch, etched into a stone tablet, was a glyph resembling an upside-down trident with jagged tines. Akhnaton turned the handle of the door and pushed it open.
“It’s not locked?” Krysty inquired curiously.
Akhnaton pointed to the symbol above the door. “That is my cartouche. Any of my subjects who would dare trespass here would have to be mad or suicidal. Or both. Regardless of the cause, they would die.”
The door led onto a stair that plunged down at a forty-five degree angle into pitch blackness. Krysty hesitated. “I can’t see a thing.”