Chapter 6

"Yes, Sire." The girl bowed.

Akhenaten looked at Ksunamun. "Come on, I'll help you settle in if you like."

She followed him in, and felt overwhelmed by what she saw. This chamber was the same size as Akhenaten's, and, she surmised, his was just up the corridor from here.

Nearly everything was the same as the Prince's accommodations, except that the fabrics were in brilliant shades of blue, not red, and there was no desk. Instead, there was a large, beautiful balcony with an ornately carved railing of ivory. The view from this balcony overlooked the palaces front gates, as well as offering a beautiful glimpse of the expanse of desert beyond.

Without realizing she was doing it, she ran over to the balcony, her hands seizing the railing, and looked out. It was now just a little past noon, and she could see the traffic of pedestrians, horseback riders, and people riding in rickety wooden carts passing by in front of the gates.

Akhenaten joined her, and looked out at the bustling scene as well, but he was not quite so impressed. He'd seen this sight from this angle nearly every day of his life.

"Do you like it?" He asked softly.

Her eyes met his. "It is perfect." She said dreamily, "It still hasn't quite sunk in that I'm here yet."

"Let it take as long as it takes, Ksunamun. As long as you're happy here, that's what matters."

"Will you stay with me the rest of the day?"

Akhenaten's answer was light-hearted. "Aye, I will."

"Then I shall be happy," she breathed.

Akhenaten allowed his hand to brush a stray lock of hair from Ksunamun's face, and behind her ear. "Tomorrow you shall be a Princess."

For a moment, she was silent, simply reveling in that fact. She had not truly expected Akhenaten to bring her here, and she was far from wanting to complain because he had.

"I never would have thought two days ago that I would be here, with you." She confessed at last, "I never would have even dreamed it. It all just seems so - just so - impossible."

Akhenaten pulled her into a secure embrace. "You are here now, and may stay, as long as you wish it."

"Tell me I'm not dreaming."

"You're not dreaming." He murmured to her, placing the smallest of kisses on her earlobe.

When the slaves had completed Ksunamun's chamber, she sat on the bed, and beckoned Akhenaten to do the same.

"Do you know if there is any chance of me getting a new dress?"

"Did you not see the trunk they brought in?" He questioned, pointing to the immense golden chest at the foot of Ksunamun's bed.

"Aye - I'd assumed it was empty."

Akhenaten gave her a lopsided grin. "My father always has a trunk full of new clothing given to guests - or in this case, new members of the family - when they come here. It is something he's always done. What's in there will probably not fit all that well, but it will do until we can get you a wardrobe of tailor made garments."

"Okay. That's a bit of a strange thing to do though, isn't it?"

The Prince shrugged. "He does it so that people like you can have a fresh change of clothes when they can't bring their own. It's like how I take supplies with me when I ride, so that if I get stuck somewhere I can take care of myself. We're a precautious lot."

"I guess I can forgive you for that little flaw." Ksunamun teased.

"Oh, I received forgiveness from the goddess of perfection! How divine!" Akhenaten laughed.

Ksunamun fell back, so she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't get over how high the ceilings were in the palace - they were the height of at least three men, if not more. She wondered just how the palace had been built, what the architect had dreamt up a way to build this palace so it was so massive and yet seemingly stable.

"What are you thinking about?" Akhenaten wondered, braking Ksunamun's trail of thought.

"This whole place is positively overwhelming." She answered. "Do you realize how much? I used to live in a small clay house, and now-" She gesticulated her sense of being supplanted by waving her hand so that it languidly circled her field of vision. "Don't get me wrong, I like it. It'll just take a bit of time to get used to."

"I guess I can understand. I'm accustomed to it all, though."

There was a very long silence, in which Akhenaten scratched the back of his neck.

Ksunamun sighed contentedly. "Lie down here, beside me." She asked sweetly.

"Your wish is my command," he jested and then obeyed her, reclining smoothly so that he too, observed the ceiling. "What do you want to do with the rest of the day?"

"I do not know. Soon though, I am going to have a bath, and then I'm going to slip into a nice clean dress. This dirty old rag is making my skin crawl."

In the temple of Osiris, the High Priest prayed. A ceremony was to take place in mere minutes - one that had not been performed in years. This was the first time he would have to execute it, and pleaded with Osiris, begging him that it would be the last.

They were to make one of the greatest sacrifices that could be offered to the gods, and again, it was in an attempt to stave off the Pharaoh's imminent death.

The sacrifice was already tied down to the altar, and tradition demanded that this one be awake at the time of its killing. It was not an animal, nay, but a great warrior who went by the name of Djozen. The High Priest of Osiris had hoped it would not come to human sacrifice - but the rest of the High Priests had thought this the best thing. He'd been strong-armed into it.

If the High Priest were to be honest with himself, he was beginning to see trying to save the Pharaoh from death as pointless. No matter what they did, he would still die.

As the lesser priests began to chant, the High Priest took up his dagger and approached the altar. He did not want to do this - but he knew he had to. If he did not, not only would someone else sacrifice the warrior in his stead, but he would be the next victim. Moreover, the High Priest was the same as nearly any other twenty-eight-year-old; he had no death wish, he clung to life.

Akhenaten paused at the archway that would lead him out of Ksunamun's chamber. He was leaving her now, so that she could have time alone for her bath. He hadn't even left yet and he already missed her. He knew he was being a hopeless romantic, but he did not care.

"Enjoy your bath, Princess." He murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

"I will, my Prince." She chuckled in response, "Now be gone! I will be out to see you when I'm done."

"Perfect." Akhenaten agreed, finally forcing his legs to steer him out of and away from Ksunamun's bedchamber.

He felt that he'd wandered into some wonderful fantasy, where his life had just gotten so much easier. The palace now gave him a similar peace to that he had found at the oasis.

The Prince's step was light as he made his way up the corridor to his own bedchamber. He had a scroll he'd try to read - or perhaps he'd write something. Something that would consume the time until Ksunamun was again by his side.

As he entered, he saw that Adam was sitting in a chair, his chest heaving. This was a common sight, for the slave was so busy he needed to stop for a brief rest often. What did not help was that Adam had some sort of malady, something he'd had since childhood, which caused him to easily become short of breath. Nobody knew or understood the illness at this point in history dear Reader, but today we call it asthma.

"You going to be alright, Adam?" Akhenaten asked with marked concern. Seeing his slave this way made him recall Ksunamun's words about the Hebrews, how they were good people. He felt guilt for his prejudice creep over him.

Adam looked up at the Prince. His face was flushed and drenched with sweat. "Aye, I just need a few minutes."

"What were you doing?" Akhenaten sat in a chair opposite to the slave.

"A horse broke free from the stables, Your Highness. I was called to help round the beast up."

"I understand." Akhenaten nodded empathetically, "I have quite a bit of trouble breaking those horses sometimes. It must be something to do with the breeds - some seem to be far more willful and defiant than others. If they get loose they can be quite a handful."

Adam ran his fingers through his luxurious head of mahogany hued hair. "You can say that again, Sire."

Just as Akhenaten reached for a pomegranate from an otherwise empty fruit bowl, there was a knock. This gave Akhenaten pause. He was not expecting anyone. "Who is it?" He tried his best to hide his irritation, but failed.

"I'm sorry if my presence displeases you, my Prince, but I request an audience with you." the male voice paused. "A private audience."

Akhenaten knew at once who it was. It was the High Priest of Set. Akhenaten did not like the man at all, but, for propriety's sake, he conceded. "Come in."

The extravagantly dressed High Priest swept into the room. The stench of a threat practically wafted off the High Priest. It was undeniable, and as Akhenaten glanced over at his slave, he knew he was not the only one who sensed it.

"Adam, please, come here for a second." Akhenaten said levelly. He needed to impart a message to the slave before being left alone with this sinister creature.

Adam obeyed quickly. His loyalty to Akhenaten ran deeper than the Prince may have ever known or guessed. "What may I do for you, Sire?"

Akhenaten motioned for Adam to lean in, so that he could whisper his message to the slave. Adam complied, and Akhenaten exhaled noisily. "Adam, I need you to leave, but stay close. I may need your assistance." He kept his voice low enough that the High Priest could not hear.

Adam nodded. "Yes, Sire." He left the chamber reluctantly, and Akhenaten steeled himself.

Ksunamun was thoroughly enjoying her bath. It was the first she'd had in such a luxurious bathing chamber. The space was large, and dimly lit. The walls were honey hued, several lit sconces on every wall. The bathing pool itself was far larger than was necessary. The stone it was made of had been polished until smooth. The water was heated by stones. These stones were put in a fire or several minutes, extracted carefully by slaves, and placed at the centre of the pool. When one first entered the pool, the water was only knee deep. There were several steps, but Ksunamun had stayed on the highest, and sat, choosing to bathe first where the water was shallow.

She had been given precious oils to bathe wish, and was relishing in a lovely jasmine fragrance. She felt utterly spoiled. Things were going so well now that she felt nothing could go wrong.

"What do you want, Setana?"

The middle-aged High Priest lazily wandered over to the opposite side of the chamber from Akhenaten. He sat languidly in the chair previously occupied by Adam. His dark, malicious eyes delved into Akhenaten's. "I just figured I'd pay you a little visit, princeling. I have just spoken with your father."

"Aye, and I'm involved in this how?"

Setana picked at his unusually long nails. "Your father has just told me that you have at last found," He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, "a bride."

Akhenaten tried his best to remain placid. He forced himself to breathe slowly, to keep his fast-rising temper at bay. "Yes, I have. But surely that is not enough to warrant a visit to my chamber."

"My reasons are my own." He shrugged. His next words were careful. "Anyhow, I assume that this woman - she will be the one to give you your heir."

"That is pretty damned obvious, Setana. Honestly, I do not understand why you ask such questions."

"Just making sure you're not only getting a little woman for show - or so that you're father will feel at ease and thus free to die."

"I would not think to insult her, or my father that way." Akhenaten said indignantly.

"Nay - I suppose you would not. At least, not directly." Setana slowly slipped his left hand into a deep pocket in his robes.

Akhenaten's eye followed Setana's hand. The High Priest's bony fingers closed around something - Akhenaten felt beads of sweat form on his brow. "Why do you feel it so incredibly necessary to irritate me?"

"My dear Prince, I assure you, I only say what I say because I mean well." Setana greasily responded.

"And I'm supposed to believe you - why?"

"Because I only have the best interest of the country at heart." Setana sighed, "Too bad for your little lady. I'm afraid she'll suffer a broken heart. But, she's better off in the end."

"What are you implying?" Akhenaten demanded suspiciously.

The High Priest stood, "Only the blatantly obvious, my Prince." Setana spat the last word, "A pathetic whelp like you should never have offspring, and should never take the throne." Setana drew from his pocket a long, sharp dagger with a malevolent blade, and lunged at Akhenaten.

Akhenaten screamed with brazen carnality as he tried to fight off Setana. The blade of the High Priest's dagger glanced across Akhenaten's right upper arm, drawing blood.

Trying to ignore the blinding pain that had erupted in his arm, Akhenaten fought back. With all the strength he possessed, he pushed the High Priest back, driving the villain far enough away so that he could make it to his feet.

Akhenaten continued to struggle, and for a while he gained ground, but the pain - the incredible, throbbing pain. The tenderness from the deep scratches on his chest mingled with that now blossoming fervently in his arm. He felt as though his whole body was aching, and convulsed suddenly, feeling light headed and weak.

"So pathetic," Setana taunted, "Cannot even take a small cut on the arm."

Setana pushed Akhenaten back against the wall, the Prince's back connected with stone in a sickening thud. The High Priest raised his dagger, his dark eyes glinting with malicious triumph.

"I'm going to be rid of you," The High Priest whispered, "And then, when your father dies, I will seize the throne."

Akhenaten groaned. "You idiot. You'd never get away with it."