Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) by Merrie P. Wycoff Read Free Book Online

Aat as she smoothed her silver pleated robe and glanced over her shoulder to the dazed young woman. “She is weak,” replied Pentu. “She could be scarred from her two other births with these longer headed children. This could prove difficult for her to have more heirs.”
     
“If she cannot then my son will have to take another consort,” said Ti-Yee through gritted teeth. “We are supposed to announce her pregnancy tonight. This is a bad omen.” Grand Djedti sprinkled a vial of golden dust on the candle. “Praise be to the Aten, may this night go well.”
     
I gulped. When Pentu explained that Meti lost her child, I thought it meant that she had misplaced it. It dawned upon me now that no new akh would be forthcoming. I wept. We needed more heirs.
     
“I administered a healing remedy to soothe and lift her mood,” said Pentu. “But I warn you it will only last a short time. Has the Pharaoh confirmed he will announce their co-regency tonight?”
     
Ti-Yee said, “He said that he has news which will make me happy. Now, where is that old goat? He should have arrived by now?” The Per Aat peeked through the heavy red drapes at the crowd. The layers of court officials flaunted their wealth and obsession with fashion. Dressed in full regalia of folded linen robes decorated with costly gems, they glittered like a jeweled collar when they arranged themselves at the long tables. The Per Aat noted her other daughters and their consorts sitting amongst Khemit’s elite. A low chatter started as their impatience grew.
     
A clatter came from the back. Grand Djedti craned her neck to see. Pharaoh Amunhotep The Magnificent staggered in, bedecked by two Royal Ornaments. The exotic beauties tried to steady the drunken Grand Lord of Khemit, but their petite frames couldn’t support his obesity. He teetered.
     
“You may rise, your Pharaoh has arrived,” he bellowed. His lopsided royal Nemes head cloth revealed his balding head while his gold uraeus slipped down over his eyes. Tadukhepa, his young new Mitannian lesser consort, walked behind, her eyes locked on the floor.
     
Everyone bowed low, their arms thrust forward. Grand Djed plopped down in his throne.
     
“Where is Ti-Yee?” he asked. Sit-Amun sat to his left. He patted the plump purple cushion on the empty throne next to him and searched for the Per Aat.
     
“Perhaps she forgot her own banquet,” said Sit-Amun with an anxious tone.
     
“Pentu, quick, we must do something,” said Ti-Yee. “If she is too weak to walk then carry her. She must make an appearance.” Ti-Yee then threw open the curtain. “Here I am, my Pharaoh!” She descended the stairs with grace. The electrum tips on her elaborate tripartite wig clinked. Her silvery gown cascaded behind her as a mountain stream. The guests clapped their hands upon the tables with approval. Ti-Yee swept her long costume to one side and gestured.
     
“Announcing the arrival of our Royal Son, Amunhotep, The Younger, and his consort, She Who Walks In Harmony, Nefertiti,” said Ti-Yee as the harpist played a tribute.
     
Father bent low and asked, “My Heart, can you walk?”
     
Meti stood up but her knees buckled. “I am too weak.”
     
“Guards!” Pentu motioned. “Let us use the screen.” The strong men yanked the crimson curtain down and pulled the gilt screen off the wall. When they laid it down, Meti climbed aboard. She left droplets of blood. “Netri, look” I pointed and felt sick. Netri fashioned that red beaded drape about Meti, hiding all evidence of her discomfort.
     
“Thank you, my Heart.” She offered a weak smile. “Pentu, she looks so pale,” said Father tugging the Physician’s arm. “Her miscarriage has drained away all color. She simply cannot proceed with this charade.”
     
“Here, use the gold dust and the moringa oil,” I said, picking up the vials. “You are indeed bright,” said Meti. I mixed the two and patted them upon her flesh and short bobbed Nubian wig