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Hmmm. Nafretiri thought about that. Silk was sometimes sheer, but if it could be combined with the satin in some way, there was still a possibility that it might work. She could also see the woman's point about silk feeling like cool water. It might feel nice on a hot day, and that at least tentatively decided that...she thought. For now.
If she had known that the lady thought she was gracious in any way, shape or form, Nafretiri would have been pleased, but puzzled. Honestly, being complimented wasn't something she was used to, and though being gracious was something she tried to achieve, more often than not, if she succeeded, it seemed to go hand-in-hand with her shyness.
While the question about why she had asked the lady her favorite material was not altogether unexpected, she was still unsure how much to reveal. Perhaps the lady might ask whom, exactly, the priestess felt she was in danger from. But she did feel she needed help to disguise herself, so she supposed she would just have to take that chance. Still, she'd have to be careful, giving only the bare minimum of information required for someone to get an idea of her circumstances.
She cleared her throat, afraid for a minute that she would melt in a puddle of sobs at any moment. At the same time, the occasional clouds of dust raised by the crowds were making her throat begin to close and her eyes burn.
"My little girl and I are in danger. Someone very powerful is likely after her as we speak. My own height and foreign appearance probably don't help. But I am a priestess, and as such, must sometimes be seen in public, my lady." If she trusted the woman more, she might reveal more, but despite not exactly being a commoner anymore due to her status as a priestess, Nafretiri was still disinclined to trust those she had met only once. Neena, perhaps, had been the only exception thus far. And as for nobles, some of them didn't tend to be very nice to her, so she was generally doubly disinclined to trust them.
"I wear a wig when possible, but due to my foreign appearance, at least I think it often looks out of place," she added. In her agitation, Nafretiri had begun to pace, and she hoped it showed as little as possible to those nearby. Perhaps they might think herguilty of something instead.
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Hmmm. Nafretiri thought about that. Silk was sometimes sheer, but if it could be combined with the satin in some way, there was still a possibility that it might work. She could also see the woman's point about silk feeling like cool water. It might feel nice on a hot day, and that at least tentatively decided that...she thought. For now.
If she had known that the lady thought she was gracious in any way, shape or form, Nafretiri would have been pleased, but puzzled. Honestly, being complimented wasn't something she was used to, and though being gracious was something she tried to achieve, more often than not, if she succeeded, it seemed to go hand-in-hand with her shyness.
While the question about why she had asked the lady her favorite material was not altogether unexpected, she was still unsure how much to reveal. Perhaps the lady might ask whom, exactly, the priestess felt she was in danger from. But she did feel she needed help to disguise herself, so she supposed she would just have to take that chance. Still, she'd have to be careful, giving only the bare minimum of information required for someone to get an idea of her circumstances.
She cleared her throat, afraid for a minute that she would melt in a puddle of sobs at any moment. At the same time, the occasional clouds of dust raised by the crowds were making her throat begin to close and her eyes burn.
"My little girl and I are in danger. Someone very powerful is likely after her as we speak. My own height and foreign appearance probably don't help. But I am a priestess, and as such, must sometimes be seen in public, my lady." If she trusted the woman more, she might reveal more, but despite not exactly being a commoner anymore due to her status as a priestess, Nafretiri was still disinclined to trust those she had met only once. Neena, perhaps, had been the only exception thus far. And as for nobles, some of them didn't tend to be very nice to her, so she was generally doubly disinclined to trust them.
"I wear a wig when possible, but due to my foreign appearance, at least I think it often looks out of place," she added. In her agitation, Nafretiri had begun to pace, and she hoped it showed as little as possible to those nearby. Perhaps they might think herguilty of something instead.
Hmmm. Nafretiri thought about that. Silk was sometimes sheer, but if it could be combined with the satin in some way, there was still a possibility that it might work. She could also see the woman's point about silk feeling like cool water. It might feel nice on a hot day, and that at least tentatively decided that...she thought. For now.
If she had known that the lady thought she was gracious in any way, shape or form, Nafretiri would have been pleased, but puzzled. Honestly, being complimented wasn't something she was used to, and though being gracious was something she tried to achieve, more often than not, if she succeeded, it seemed to go hand-in-hand with her shyness.
While the question about why she had asked the lady her favorite material was not altogether unexpected, she was still unsure how much to reveal. Perhaps the lady might ask whom, exactly, the priestess felt she was in danger from. But she did feel she needed help to disguise herself, so she supposed she would just have to take that chance. Still, she'd have to be careful, giving only the bare minimum of information required for someone to get an idea of her circumstances.
She cleared her throat, afraid for a minute that she would melt in a puddle of sobs at any moment. At the same time, the occasional clouds of dust raised by the crowds were making her throat begin to close and her eyes burn.
"My little girl and I are in danger. Someone very powerful is likely after her as we speak. My own height and foreign appearance probably don't help. But I am a priestess, and as such, must sometimes be seen in public, my lady." If she trusted the woman more, she might reveal more, but despite not exactly being a commoner anymore due to her status as a priestess, Nafretiri was still disinclined to trust those she had met only once. Neena, perhaps, had been the only exception thus far. And as for nobles, some of them didn't tend to be very nice to her, so she was generally doubly disinclined to trust them.
"I wear a wig when possible, but due to my foreign appearance, at least I think it often looks out of place," she added. In her agitation, Nafretiri had begun to pace, and she hoped it showed as little as possible to those nearby. Perhaps they might think herguilty of something instead.
As Safiya had been blessed to inherit the exotic colouring of her own mother, she knew something of looking out of place, it was hardly the kind of thing that she could change and initially, it had caused her some discomfort but eventually, Safiya had learned to take pride in her looks.
However, this was not the same thing at all. She had never been at risk or in danger and while it sounded almost impossible to believe, she was aware that it was likely the truth, who would make that up? It had her eyes widening slightly, this was exciting and had the air of being an adventure which was basically the one sure way of gaining her interest ahead of anything else. She wanted to be able to join in with this. Though that might be a trifle rude. This was a serious sort of business after all.
"Well... I was not aware of that being the case. I mean... not that I should be but it sounds difficult. Have you thought about not hiding? I mean the more obscure you are trying to be then you are the more obvious for it - sometimes being brazen is the best way to vanish" Safiya was not sure that she was truly explaining herself or the idea that had popped into her head with all of this but she was interested in being able to try.
This might be all some fiction but Safiya was not really interested in arguing with that possibility. Instead, she wanted to entertain the whole idea and have some fun with that.
"...have you thought about that? You are a Priestess a well. Who would want to harm you? I would say the silk is more appropriate then, the chance to be bright and far too obvious might work in having those seeking you miss you as a result of the glare - what do you think?" she realized that as muddled and confused as all of her words might be, she should also seek out the approval and interest of the woman who was so involved with all of this.
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As Safiya had been blessed to inherit the exotic colouring of her own mother, she knew something of looking out of place, it was hardly the kind of thing that she could change and initially, it had caused her some discomfort but eventually, Safiya had learned to take pride in her looks.
However, this was not the same thing at all. She had never been at risk or in danger and while it sounded almost impossible to believe, she was aware that it was likely the truth, who would make that up? It had her eyes widening slightly, this was exciting and had the air of being an adventure which was basically the one sure way of gaining her interest ahead of anything else. She wanted to be able to join in with this. Though that might be a trifle rude. This was a serious sort of business after all.
"Well... I was not aware of that being the case. I mean... not that I should be but it sounds difficult. Have you thought about not hiding? I mean the more obscure you are trying to be then you are the more obvious for it - sometimes being brazen is the best way to vanish" Safiya was not sure that she was truly explaining herself or the idea that had popped into her head with all of this but she was interested in being able to try.
This might be all some fiction but Safiya was not really interested in arguing with that possibility. Instead, she wanted to entertain the whole idea and have some fun with that.
"...have you thought about that? You are a Priestess a well. Who would want to harm you? I would say the silk is more appropriate then, the chance to be bright and far too obvious might work in having those seeking you miss you as a result of the glare - what do you think?" she realized that as muddled and confused as all of her words might be, she should also seek out the approval and interest of the woman who was so involved with all of this.
As Safiya had been blessed to inherit the exotic colouring of her own mother, she knew something of looking out of place, it was hardly the kind of thing that she could change and initially, it had caused her some discomfort but eventually, Safiya had learned to take pride in her looks.
However, this was not the same thing at all. She had never been at risk or in danger and while it sounded almost impossible to believe, she was aware that it was likely the truth, who would make that up? It had her eyes widening slightly, this was exciting and had the air of being an adventure which was basically the one sure way of gaining her interest ahead of anything else. She wanted to be able to join in with this. Though that might be a trifle rude. This was a serious sort of business after all.
"Well... I was not aware of that being the case. I mean... not that I should be but it sounds difficult. Have you thought about not hiding? I mean the more obscure you are trying to be then you are the more obvious for it - sometimes being brazen is the best way to vanish" Safiya was not sure that she was truly explaining herself or the idea that had popped into her head with all of this but she was interested in being able to try.
This might be all some fiction but Safiya was not really interested in arguing with that possibility. Instead, she wanted to entertain the whole idea and have some fun with that.
"...have you thought about that? You are a Priestess a well. Who would want to harm you? I would say the silk is more appropriate then, the chance to be bright and far too obvious might work in having those seeking you miss you as a result of the glare - what do you think?" she realized that as muddled and confused as all of her words might be, she should also seek out the approval and interest of the woman who was so involved with all of this.
The woman seemed to be honestly thinking, and she made good points, though Nafretiri was unsure regardless that whatever option she went with in the end would do her any good. Perhaps, if they were found, it would mean that it was meant to happen that way. She had begun to observe while living here that it didn't seem to matter what worship one offered the gods, in the sense that if they had a plan for your good or your ill, they just did and nothing could change what they wanted to do with you. Perhaps it was her lot to have to look over her shoulder forever, and if that were the case, nothing anyone did would likely change it.
But in a sense, she couldn't think that way, because if she did, she'd likely go insane and want to end it all, leaving Aneksi an orphan. Maybe that would be best, because an orphan could blend in with other orphans, but Nafretiri didn't like to think of her daughter on the street. It was a shame she couldn't think of any other children for her daughter to play with in the temple at the moment. She sighed forlornly, realizing at that moment just how lonely both their lives really were, and just how easily Aneksi might be spotted if she were the only child in a particular area.
"If I were worried about being found only in public, your plan might work, but what about my little girl? It doesn't help her to remain hidden in the times when there aren't any other children around. Perhaps I should not be spending quite so much time indoors, but I am so afraid. It's probably a miracle of the gods that I came here today at all."
There were so many 'if onlys' now... perhaps too many situations that could not be changed in order for her world to right itself and regain at least a bit of normalcy. There was some comfort in the routine of being a priestess, but having a routine didn't mean things were normal; sometimes it meant following that routine in order to keep your mind off the things that weren't normal.
"Still, you make good points. If I look like most of the priestesses at least in costume, perhaps my differences in height and skin tone won't be so obvious. But how to disguise my little girl? She's only a year old. Considering some of the things that can happen in the temple of Hathor, perhaps it is not the best place to raise a child, but it was the only option I had."
Or, actually, it was the least of the evils...but perhaps the woman had guessed that already. Nafretiri picked up a swath of red silk, checking to make sure it matched her priestess robes.
Actually, while she had the lady's attention, she considered that it might be possible that she could help if Nafretiri told her whom not to alert. Foreigners were common enough, but foreigner priestesses? There probably weren't many of those.
Oh, why had things become such a mess that a foreigner had to be a priestess in the first place? Nafretiri silently raged, unsure what to do anymore. Perhaps she would be this unsure for the rest of her life.
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The woman seemed to be honestly thinking, and she made good points, though Nafretiri was unsure regardless that whatever option she went with in the end would do her any good. Perhaps, if they were found, it would mean that it was meant to happen that way. She had begun to observe while living here that it didn't seem to matter what worship one offered the gods, in the sense that if they had a plan for your good or your ill, they just did and nothing could change what they wanted to do with you. Perhaps it was her lot to have to look over her shoulder forever, and if that were the case, nothing anyone did would likely change it.
But in a sense, she couldn't think that way, because if she did, she'd likely go insane and want to end it all, leaving Aneksi an orphan. Maybe that would be best, because an orphan could blend in with other orphans, but Nafretiri didn't like to think of her daughter on the street. It was a shame she couldn't think of any other children for her daughter to play with in the temple at the moment. She sighed forlornly, realizing at that moment just how lonely both their lives really were, and just how easily Aneksi might be spotted if she were the only child in a particular area.
"If I were worried about being found only in public, your plan might work, but what about my little girl? It doesn't help her to remain hidden in the times when there aren't any other children around. Perhaps I should not be spending quite so much time indoors, but I am so afraid. It's probably a miracle of the gods that I came here today at all."
There were so many 'if onlys' now... perhaps too many situations that could not be changed in order for her world to right itself and regain at least a bit of normalcy. There was some comfort in the routine of being a priestess, but having a routine didn't mean things were normal; sometimes it meant following that routine in order to keep your mind off the things that weren't normal.
"Still, you make good points. If I look like most of the priestesses at least in costume, perhaps my differences in height and skin tone won't be so obvious. But how to disguise my little girl? She's only a year old. Considering some of the things that can happen in the temple of Hathor, perhaps it is not the best place to raise a child, but it was the only option I had."
Or, actually, it was the least of the evils...but perhaps the woman had guessed that already. Nafretiri picked up a swath of red silk, checking to make sure it matched her priestess robes.
Actually, while she had the lady's attention, she considered that it might be possible that she could help if Nafretiri told her whom not to alert. Foreigners were common enough, but foreigner priestesses? There probably weren't many of those.
Oh, why had things become such a mess that a foreigner had to be a priestess in the first place? Nafretiri silently raged, unsure what to do anymore. Perhaps she would be this unsure for the rest of her life.
The woman seemed to be honestly thinking, and she made good points, though Nafretiri was unsure regardless that whatever option she went with in the end would do her any good. Perhaps, if they were found, it would mean that it was meant to happen that way. She had begun to observe while living here that it didn't seem to matter what worship one offered the gods, in the sense that if they had a plan for your good or your ill, they just did and nothing could change what they wanted to do with you. Perhaps it was her lot to have to look over her shoulder forever, and if that were the case, nothing anyone did would likely change it.
But in a sense, she couldn't think that way, because if she did, she'd likely go insane and want to end it all, leaving Aneksi an orphan. Maybe that would be best, because an orphan could blend in with other orphans, but Nafretiri didn't like to think of her daughter on the street. It was a shame she couldn't think of any other children for her daughter to play with in the temple at the moment. She sighed forlornly, realizing at that moment just how lonely both their lives really were, and just how easily Aneksi might be spotted if she were the only child in a particular area.
"If I were worried about being found only in public, your plan might work, but what about my little girl? It doesn't help her to remain hidden in the times when there aren't any other children around. Perhaps I should not be spending quite so much time indoors, but I am so afraid. It's probably a miracle of the gods that I came here today at all."
There were so many 'if onlys' now... perhaps too many situations that could not be changed in order for her world to right itself and regain at least a bit of normalcy. There was some comfort in the routine of being a priestess, but having a routine didn't mean things were normal; sometimes it meant following that routine in order to keep your mind off the things that weren't normal.
"Still, you make good points. If I look like most of the priestesses at least in costume, perhaps my differences in height and skin tone won't be so obvious. But how to disguise my little girl? She's only a year old. Considering some of the things that can happen in the temple of Hathor, perhaps it is not the best place to raise a child, but it was the only option I had."
Or, actually, it was the least of the evils...but perhaps the woman had guessed that already. Nafretiri picked up a swath of red silk, checking to make sure it matched her priestess robes.
Actually, while she had the lady's attention, she considered that it might be possible that she could help if Nafretiri told her whom not to alert. Foreigners were common enough, but foreigner priestesses? There probably weren't many of those.
Oh, why had things become such a mess that a foreigner had to be a priestess in the first place? Nafretiri silently raged, unsure what to do anymore. Perhaps she would be this unsure for the rest of her life.
She was aware that her expertise in all of this was decidedly minimal at best, it had the ring of one of the stories that she and her sister spent their time making up and sharing with each other. But it was also true that naive and largely innocent as was, Safiya wasn't stupid.
"I could be wrong but surely your daughter looks very much like any other child, I'm not a mother so I am not sure I would be... frankly, all the children that I've seen who are that young all look alike to me" did that sound terrible or like she was being difficult? She wasn't attempting to do anything like that. Far from it. All she wanted to do was make sure that she expressed thoughts and opinions because they might help. It was a lot like the way she dealt with the story building she did with Sameera. The two of them would go back and forth between one idea and then the next.
Some of them would work and others wouldn't but all of them were open for consideration and either handled or dismissed as they worked out which ideas were going to make the most sense and be able to work.
Safiya hoped that want she was saying didn't offend the other woman, as she started to fuss with one of the red silks, it was a moment of casual thought as she reached over and picked up another one "This is a better shade, it complements as well as being the right sort of flair" she added and smiled if she was good at anything as a skill, it was picking out accessories and making sure that she was capable of always looking her best.
This had always been essential when she out among the others of social class, it was also important for her own sense of self-identity and worth. Even when the money had been tighter, Safiya had been able to provide the right kind of look with a little more creativity and flexibility with what she was doing "And I wouldn't say being raised in a Temple would be a terrible thing but I suppose that a child wouldn't appreciate everything - do you have any friends who could help?" all she could was ask the questions and see what happened.
All of these things could well be what the other woman had already considered and dismissed but until Safiya asked she couldn't know the answers and she wasn't interested in entertaining an assumption in something that seemed to be so important, not to mention dangerous.
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She was aware that her expertise in all of this was decidedly minimal at best, it had the ring of one of the stories that she and her sister spent their time making up and sharing with each other. But it was also true that naive and largely innocent as was, Safiya wasn't stupid.
"I could be wrong but surely your daughter looks very much like any other child, I'm not a mother so I am not sure I would be... frankly, all the children that I've seen who are that young all look alike to me" did that sound terrible or like she was being difficult? She wasn't attempting to do anything like that. Far from it. All she wanted to do was make sure that she expressed thoughts and opinions because they might help. It was a lot like the way she dealt with the story building she did with Sameera. The two of them would go back and forth between one idea and then the next.
Some of them would work and others wouldn't but all of them were open for consideration and either handled or dismissed as they worked out which ideas were going to make the most sense and be able to work.
Safiya hoped that want she was saying didn't offend the other woman, as she started to fuss with one of the red silks, it was a moment of casual thought as she reached over and picked up another one "This is a better shade, it complements as well as being the right sort of flair" she added and smiled if she was good at anything as a skill, it was picking out accessories and making sure that she was capable of always looking her best.
This had always been essential when she out among the others of social class, it was also important for her own sense of self-identity and worth. Even when the money had been tighter, Safiya had been able to provide the right kind of look with a little more creativity and flexibility with what she was doing "And I wouldn't say being raised in a Temple would be a terrible thing but I suppose that a child wouldn't appreciate everything - do you have any friends who could help?" all she could was ask the questions and see what happened.
All of these things could well be what the other woman had already considered and dismissed but until Safiya asked she couldn't know the answers and she wasn't interested in entertaining an assumption in something that seemed to be so important, not to mention dangerous.
She was aware that her expertise in all of this was decidedly minimal at best, it had the ring of one of the stories that she and her sister spent their time making up and sharing with each other. But it was also true that naive and largely innocent as was, Safiya wasn't stupid.
"I could be wrong but surely your daughter looks very much like any other child, I'm not a mother so I am not sure I would be... frankly, all the children that I've seen who are that young all look alike to me" did that sound terrible or like she was being difficult? She wasn't attempting to do anything like that. Far from it. All she wanted to do was make sure that she expressed thoughts and opinions because they might help. It was a lot like the way she dealt with the story building she did with Sameera. The two of them would go back and forth between one idea and then the next.
Some of them would work and others wouldn't but all of them were open for consideration and either handled or dismissed as they worked out which ideas were going to make the most sense and be able to work.
Safiya hoped that want she was saying didn't offend the other woman, as she started to fuss with one of the red silks, it was a moment of casual thought as she reached over and picked up another one "This is a better shade, it complements as well as being the right sort of flair" she added and smiled if she was good at anything as a skill, it was picking out accessories and making sure that she was capable of always looking her best.
This had always been essential when she out among the others of social class, it was also important for her own sense of self-identity and worth. Even when the money had been tighter, Safiya had been able to provide the right kind of look with a little more creativity and flexibility with what she was doing "And I wouldn't say being raised in a Temple would be a terrible thing but I suppose that a child wouldn't appreciate everything - do you have any friends who could help?" all she could was ask the questions and see what happened.
All of these things could well be what the other woman had already considered and dismissed but until Safiya asked she couldn't know the answers and she wasn't interested in entertaining an assumption in something that seemed to be so important, not to mention dangerous.
Nafretiri thought about it. She supposed in one way that the other woman might be right. If you weren't looking for a specific child, they might all look alike, unless one counted differences in skin tone or eye color, for example.
If you were looking for a specific child, though....
That was what concerned her- that he could be looking. Gods forbid he and his wife show up in Hathor's temple to make love in front of the goddess in an attempt to conceive a child of both of their own, though she suspected they'd tried that, maybe even more than once.
"Normally, I wouldn't disagree with you, my lady. But I am not the one potentially looking for a certain child. Are you sure you can't see any resemblance between Aneksi and myself- the hair texture, for example?"
If the falcon god were to aid the man with his superior vision, Nafretiri felt sure she and Aneksi were doomed to be separated. But that was the problem with gods, she supposed. Even one's patron- as Hathor was now hers- could choose not to aid them. She struggled to keep back tears at the thought that maybe no one cared for her at all, but she knew better than to give in. All was not lost yet, and that was what she was here in the bazaar for- to prevent all from being lost.
She took a ragged breath.
"If you think she's not like me, perhaps she isn't- or at least not very much. Perhaps my experiences have changed me into someone who believes every shadow could be their attacker returned."
She would be the first to admit- particularly after her outburst in the temple in front of that man, Lukos in Tammuz- that perhaps she was no longer quite sane.... She bit her lip uncertainly as she waited for the lady's answer.
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Nafretiri thought about it. She supposed in one way that the other woman might be right. If you weren't looking for a specific child, they might all look alike, unless one counted differences in skin tone or eye color, for example.
If you were looking for a specific child, though....
That was what concerned her- that he could be looking. Gods forbid he and his wife show up in Hathor's temple to make love in front of the goddess in an attempt to conceive a child of both of their own, though she suspected they'd tried that, maybe even more than once.
"Normally, I wouldn't disagree with you, my lady. But I am not the one potentially looking for a certain child. Are you sure you can't see any resemblance between Aneksi and myself- the hair texture, for example?"
If the falcon god were to aid the man with his superior vision, Nafretiri felt sure she and Aneksi were doomed to be separated. But that was the problem with gods, she supposed. Even one's patron- as Hathor was now hers- could choose not to aid them. She struggled to keep back tears at the thought that maybe no one cared for her at all, but she knew better than to give in. All was not lost yet, and that was what she was here in the bazaar for- to prevent all from being lost.
She took a ragged breath.
"If you think she's not like me, perhaps she isn't- or at least not very much. Perhaps my experiences have changed me into someone who believes every shadow could be their attacker returned."
She would be the first to admit- particularly after her outburst in the temple in front of that man, Lukos in Tammuz- that perhaps she was no longer quite sane.... She bit her lip uncertainly as she waited for the lady's answer.
Nafretiri thought about it. She supposed in one way that the other woman might be right. If you weren't looking for a specific child, they might all look alike, unless one counted differences in skin tone or eye color, for example.
If you were looking for a specific child, though....
That was what concerned her- that he could be looking. Gods forbid he and his wife show up in Hathor's temple to make love in front of the goddess in an attempt to conceive a child of both of their own, though she suspected they'd tried that, maybe even more than once.
"Normally, I wouldn't disagree with you, my lady. But I am not the one potentially looking for a certain child. Are you sure you can't see any resemblance between Aneksi and myself- the hair texture, for example?"
If the falcon god were to aid the man with his superior vision, Nafretiri felt sure she and Aneksi were doomed to be separated. But that was the problem with gods, she supposed. Even one's patron- as Hathor was now hers- could choose not to aid them. She struggled to keep back tears at the thought that maybe no one cared for her at all, but she knew better than to give in. All was not lost yet, and that was what she was here in the bazaar for- to prevent all from being lost.
She took a ragged breath.
"If you think she's not like me, perhaps she isn't- or at least not very much. Perhaps my experiences have changed me into someone who believes every shadow could be their attacker returned."
She would be the first to admit- particularly after her outburst in the temple in front of that man, Lukos in Tammuz- that perhaps she was no longer quite sane.... She bit her lip uncertainly as she waited for the lady's answer.
“Of course, I’m right,” Hatshepsut replied with a winsome grin. She didn’t have to worry that Osorsen would only tell her what she wanted to hear, like most courtiers were obligated to do whether they agreed with her or not. He knew that he could always speak freely to her, nor did he have to wait to touch her until she gave him permission. If he asked, she would give him permission to touch her all over and she would do the same to him. Even just holding his hand was precious to her.
With him, her natural shyness completely disappeared. In his presence, she felt like the woman her mother wanted her to be … confident, brave, and unafraid to speak her mind. Osorsen brought out the best in her. He always had, and always would. The difference in their ages didn’t bother her at all; he was knowledgeable and experienced in so many things, unlike most boys her age, whom she found insufferably silly. Hatshepsut had not been allowed a normal childhood and had grown up faster than most young girls. She also found his tattoos attractive and even his scars. Every mark on his body made him him and she wouldn’t have him any other way.
When the stall collapsed, he acted quickly, swinging her off her feet for a brief moment and pulling her close, putting himself between her and any possible danger. She saw his muscles tense as his hand grasped his sword. The young Queen knew he would protect her at all costs, even if that cost was his life. Was that love, or was it just duty and loyalty? He cared for her, she knew that, and he would always keep her out of harm’s way.
The pressure of his arm around her shoulder was comforting and she half-turned so that she could press her curves against him. Would he notice or was his attention solely on the disturbance? Hatshepsut nestled against his side and lay her head against his fabric-covered chest, content to remain that way until she saw the noblewoman. Osorsen must have seen her too, for he turned away when she did and the tantalizing contact between them was broken.
She felt so bereft that she immediately grabbed his hand again and pulled him toward a stall selling more luxurious fabrics than most. His grin enchanted her and her heart leapt in her chest. Suspecting that her love for him was written on her face … the petite Queen had never been adept at hiding her emotion ... she turned her attention to the fabric, letting a few lengths of slippery silk slip through her hands.
Laughing at his question, Hatshepsut looked up at him. She adored his teasing and was more than willing to return the favor. “You shouldn’t be offended. You should be honored that I wish to dress you.” She barely stopped herself by saying that he should be honored to be dressed by the Queen of Egypt, but the owner of the stall was watching them a short distance away and might be able to overhear their conversation. If anyone knew who she was, this whole wonderful day would be ruined, and her mother would find out and give her a strict lecture about resisting her youthful impulses and acting at all times like a queen.
Her eyes lit up when Osorsen held a length of blue gauze close but not touching his skin. She let the silk go and stepped closer to him, tilting her head to the side and putting one finger to her chin as if considering whether it looked good on him or not. “Hmmmm ….” she murmured softly. “Let me see.” She reached for the fabric and took it from him, her hand brushing not-so-accidentally against his.
Hatshepsut smoothed the fabric against his tunic, wishing that his chest was bare but knowing that his tattoos would give his identity away. “This color really suits you.” She ran her hands gently over it, caressing it as she wished she could caress him. Standing on tiptoe, she held one edge up to the side of his face, her expressive musician’s fingers whispering over his cheek. “Yes, it highlights your skin, eyes, and hair, perfectly. You must have it.”
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“Of course, I’m right,” Hatshepsut replied with a winsome grin. She didn’t have to worry that Osorsen would only tell her what she wanted to hear, like most courtiers were obligated to do whether they agreed with her or not. He knew that he could always speak freely to her, nor did he have to wait to touch her until she gave him permission. If he asked, she would give him permission to touch her all over and she would do the same to him. Even just holding his hand was precious to her.
With him, her natural shyness completely disappeared. In his presence, she felt like the woman her mother wanted her to be … confident, brave, and unafraid to speak her mind. Osorsen brought out the best in her. He always had, and always would. The difference in their ages didn’t bother her at all; he was knowledgeable and experienced in so many things, unlike most boys her age, whom she found insufferably silly. Hatshepsut had not been allowed a normal childhood and had grown up faster than most young girls. She also found his tattoos attractive and even his scars. Every mark on his body made him him and she wouldn’t have him any other way.
When the stall collapsed, he acted quickly, swinging her off her feet for a brief moment and pulling her close, putting himself between her and any possible danger. She saw his muscles tense as his hand grasped his sword. The young Queen knew he would protect her at all costs, even if that cost was his life. Was that love, or was it just duty and loyalty? He cared for her, she knew that, and he would always keep her out of harm’s way.
The pressure of his arm around her shoulder was comforting and she half-turned so that she could press her curves against him. Would he notice or was his attention solely on the disturbance? Hatshepsut nestled against his side and lay her head against his fabric-covered chest, content to remain that way until she saw the noblewoman. Osorsen must have seen her too, for he turned away when she did and the tantalizing contact between them was broken.
She felt so bereft that she immediately grabbed his hand again and pulled him toward a stall selling more luxurious fabrics than most. His grin enchanted her and her heart leapt in her chest. Suspecting that her love for him was written on her face … the petite Queen had never been adept at hiding her emotion ... she turned her attention to the fabric, letting a few lengths of slippery silk slip through her hands.
Laughing at his question, Hatshepsut looked up at him. She adored his teasing and was more than willing to return the favor. “You shouldn’t be offended. You should be honored that I wish to dress you.” She barely stopped herself by saying that he should be honored to be dressed by the Queen of Egypt, but the owner of the stall was watching them a short distance away and might be able to overhear their conversation. If anyone knew who she was, this whole wonderful day would be ruined, and her mother would find out and give her a strict lecture about resisting her youthful impulses and acting at all times like a queen.
Her eyes lit up when Osorsen held a length of blue gauze close but not touching his skin. She let the silk go and stepped closer to him, tilting her head to the side and putting one finger to her chin as if considering whether it looked good on him or not. “Hmmmm ….” she murmured softly. “Let me see.” She reached for the fabric and took it from him, her hand brushing not-so-accidentally against his.
Hatshepsut smoothed the fabric against his tunic, wishing that his chest was bare but knowing that his tattoos would give his identity away. “This color really suits you.” She ran her hands gently over it, caressing it as she wished she could caress him. Standing on tiptoe, she held one edge up to the side of his face, her expressive musician’s fingers whispering over his cheek. “Yes, it highlights your skin, eyes, and hair, perfectly. You must have it.”
“Of course, I’m right,” Hatshepsut replied with a winsome grin. She didn’t have to worry that Osorsen would only tell her what she wanted to hear, like most courtiers were obligated to do whether they agreed with her or not. He knew that he could always speak freely to her, nor did he have to wait to touch her until she gave him permission. If he asked, she would give him permission to touch her all over and she would do the same to him. Even just holding his hand was precious to her.
With him, her natural shyness completely disappeared. In his presence, she felt like the woman her mother wanted her to be … confident, brave, and unafraid to speak her mind. Osorsen brought out the best in her. He always had, and always would. The difference in their ages didn’t bother her at all; he was knowledgeable and experienced in so many things, unlike most boys her age, whom she found insufferably silly. Hatshepsut had not been allowed a normal childhood and had grown up faster than most young girls. She also found his tattoos attractive and even his scars. Every mark on his body made him him and she wouldn’t have him any other way.
When the stall collapsed, he acted quickly, swinging her off her feet for a brief moment and pulling her close, putting himself between her and any possible danger. She saw his muscles tense as his hand grasped his sword. The young Queen knew he would protect her at all costs, even if that cost was his life. Was that love, or was it just duty and loyalty? He cared for her, she knew that, and he would always keep her out of harm’s way.
The pressure of his arm around her shoulder was comforting and she half-turned so that she could press her curves against him. Would he notice or was his attention solely on the disturbance? Hatshepsut nestled against his side and lay her head against his fabric-covered chest, content to remain that way until she saw the noblewoman. Osorsen must have seen her too, for he turned away when she did and the tantalizing contact between them was broken.
She felt so bereft that she immediately grabbed his hand again and pulled him toward a stall selling more luxurious fabrics than most. His grin enchanted her and her heart leapt in her chest. Suspecting that her love for him was written on her face … the petite Queen had never been adept at hiding her emotion ... she turned her attention to the fabric, letting a few lengths of slippery silk slip through her hands.
Laughing at his question, Hatshepsut looked up at him. She adored his teasing and was more than willing to return the favor. “You shouldn’t be offended. You should be honored that I wish to dress you.” She barely stopped herself by saying that he should be honored to be dressed by the Queen of Egypt, but the owner of the stall was watching them a short distance away and might be able to overhear their conversation. If anyone knew who she was, this whole wonderful day would be ruined, and her mother would find out and give her a strict lecture about resisting her youthful impulses and acting at all times like a queen.
Her eyes lit up when Osorsen held a length of blue gauze close but not touching his skin. She let the silk go and stepped closer to him, tilting her head to the side and putting one finger to her chin as if considering whether it looked good on him or not. “Hmmmm ….” she murmured softly. “Let me see.” She reached for the fabric and took it from him, her hand brushing not-so-accidentally against his.
Hatshepsut smoothed the fabric against his tunic, wishing that his chest was bare but knowing that his tattoos would give his identity away. “This color really suits you.” She ran her hands gently over it, caressing it as she wished she could caress him. Standing on tiptoe, she held one edge up to the side of his face, her expressive musician’s fingers whispering over his cheek. “Yes, it highlights your skin, eyes, and hair, perfectly. You must have it.”
After a moment of recognition from the noble lady who had appeared so interested in the slave girl just a moment before, Neena's greeting to the Isazari born woman was lost in the arrival of several other ladies. Their clothing identified them as rich, whilst their attitudes, frames and gazes suggested power.
It was easy for Neena to recognise what was about to happen and she didn't let it cut her when the noble woman was distracted by friends and gossip, Neena's presence immediately evaporating from her mind. With a shrug, Neena was happy to allow the guardsman to direct her away and, avoiding the harsh looks of the merchant a few rows away, she headed back out into the crowds.
This time, she was careful of where she was going and what she might risk tripping over and instead focused on the pleasure of people watching and eavesdropping on the random conversations of native passers-by.
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After a moment of recognition from the noble lady who had appeared so interested in the slave girl just a moment before, Neena's greeting to the Isazari born woman was lost in the arrival of several other ladies. Their clothing identified them as rich, whilst their attitudes, frames and gazes suggested power.
It was easy for Neena to recognise what was about to happen and she didn't let it cut her when the noble woman was distracted by friends and gossip, Neena's presence immediately evaporating from her mind. With a shrug, Neena was happy to allow the guardsman to direct her away and, avoiding the harsh looks of the merchant a few rows away, she headed back out into the crowds.
This time, she was careful of where she was going and what she might risk tripping over and instead focused on the pleasure of people watching and eavesdropping on the random conversations of native passers-by.
After a moment of recognition from the noble lady who had appeared so interested in the slave girl just a moment before, Neena's greeting to the Isazari born woman was lost in the arrival of several other ladies. Their clothing identified them as rich, whilst their attitudes, frames and gazes suggested power.
It was easy for Neena to recognise what was about to happen and she didn't let it cut her when the noble woman was distracted by friends and gossip, Neena's presence immediately evaporating from her mind. With a shrug, Neena was happy to allow the guardsman to direct her away and, avoiding the harsh looks of the merchant a few rows away, she headed back out into the crowds.
This time, she was careful of where she was going and what she might risk tripping over and instead focused on the pleasure of people watching and eavesdropping on the random conversations of native passers-by.
"Oh!" Tahena offered the other woman a shy smile, relieved that she hadn't actually bumped into anyone important. Or anyone who was going to kick up a fuss, regardless of social status. Having an error come to the attention of anyone important would be only slightly less terrible. "Thank you." She stepped out of the entrance to the stall much more carefully, and gave the older woman a rueful look. "I really should have been more careful."
The other woman seemed kind, Tahena thought. It wasn't the sort of thing one could depend on, of course, but in her experience, women were more often kind than men, at least until you reached a certain social status, which the young woman facing her certainly was not. "I should finish my errands," she agreed with a smile. "Thank you," she added again as she headed off looking for the next thing on her list.
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"Oh!" Tahena offered the other woman a shy smile, relieved that she hadn't actually bumped into anyone important. Or anyone who was going to kick up a fuss, regardless of social status. Having an error come to the attention of anyone important would be only slightly less terrible. "Thank you." She stepped out of the entrance to the stall much more carefully, and gave the older woman a rueful look. "I really should have been more careful."
The other woman seemed kind, Tahena thought. It wasn't the sort of thing one could depend on, of course, but in her experience, women were more often kind than men, at least until you reached a certain social status, which the young woman facing her certainly was not. "I should finish my errands," she agreed with a smile. "Thank you," she added again as she headed off looking for the next thing on her list.
"Oh!" Tahena offered the other woman a shy smile, relieved that she hadn't actually bumped into anyone important. Or anyone who was going to kick up a fuss, regardless of social status. Having an error come to the attention of anyone important would be only slightly less terrible. "Thank you." She stepped out of the entrance to the stall much more carefully, and gave the older woman a rueful look. "I really should have been more careful."
The other woman seemed kind, Tahena thought. It wasn't the sort of thing one could depend on, of course, but in her experience, women were more often kind than men, at least until you reached a certain social status, which the young woman facing her certainly was not. "I should finish my errands," she agreed with a smile. "Thank you," she added again as she headed off looking for the next thing on her list.
It would be wonderful if she could provide the older woman with the reassurance that she obviously wanted and needed. Safiye was not sure that she could do that and not end up feeling like she had done her some disservice, as a result, she knew that she wasn't always the best at holding her tongue and when it came to advice it was very rooted in her own awareness of the world and how it worked but that was limited in its experience and also how much she wanted to do or not do in speaking her mind and ending up causing more problems in the end.
Safiye allowed herself to sigh "I don't know. I mean, standing next to each other, possibly? But I am a stranger to you both. Which makes it easier for me to see the sameness but also the differences - I suppose if I knew you better or had a stronger desire, it would be easier? It might even be true that they have found the wrong people because of that" literally a case of seeing the person all over the place whether or not they were actually there or not. Safiye had experienced that when she had been on the lookout for her brother or uncle. So she understood the concept.
Even if it tended to be more applied in the case of people choosing between her and her sister, not that it was any less annoying when it happened over and over. She was heartily sick of it and so was Sameera a lot of the time.
"Is there someone who could look after her? Keep her away from all of this, I mean are you very alone in this?" she supposed it was a little bit forward and definitely blunter than she likely should have been behaving but it wasn't going to stop the words, they were already said and definitely done with now "I serve in the palace, in fact, I am Saifya H'Haikaddad" while she could have tacked onto the title it wasn't really something that she felt suited this present conversation between the two of them.
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It would be wonderful if she could provide the older woman with the reassurance that she obviously wanted and needed. Safiye was not sure that she could do that and not end up feeling like she had done her some disservice, as a result, she knew that she wasn't always the best at holding her tongue and when it came to advice it was very rooted in her own awareness of the world and how it worked but that was limited in its experience and also how much she wanted to do or not do in speaking her mind and ending up causing more problems in the end.
Safiye allowed herself to sigh "I don't know. I mean, standing next to each other, possibly? But I am a stranger to you both. Which makes it easier for me to see the sameness but also the differences - I suppose if I knew you better or had a stronger desire, it would be easier? It might even be true that they have found the wrong people because of that" literally a case of seeing the person all over the place whether or not they were actually there or not. Safiye had experienced that when she had been on the lookout for her brother or uncle. So she understood the concept.
Even if it tended to be more applied in the case of people choosing between her and her sister, not that it was any less annoying when it happened over and over. She was heartily sick of it and so was Sameera a lot of the time.
"Is there someone who could look after her? Keep her away from all of this, I mean are you very alone in this?" she supposed it was a little bit forward and definitely blunter than she likely should have been behaving but it wasn't going to stop the words, they were already said and definitely done with now "I serve in the palace, in fact, I am Saifya H'Haikaddad" while she could have tacked onto the title it wasn't really something that she felt suited this present conversation between the two of them.
It would be wonderful if she could provide the older woman with the reassurance that she obviously wanted and needed. Safiye was not sure that she could do that and not end up feeling like she had done her some disservice, as a result, she knew that she wasn't always the best at holding her tongue and when it came to advice it was very rooted in her own awareness of the world and how it worked but that was limited in its experience and also how much she wanted to do or not do in speaking her mind and ending up causing more problems in the end.
Safiye allowed herself to sigh "I don't know. I mean, standing next to each other, possibly? But I am a stranger to you both. Which makes it easier for me to see the sameness but also the differences - I suppose if I knew you better or had a stronger desire, it would be easier? It might even be true that they have found the wrong people because of that" literally a case of seeing the person all over the place whether or not they were actually there or not. Safiye had experienced that when she had been on the lookout for her brother or uncle. So she understood the concept.
Even if it tended to be more applied in the case of people choosing between her and her sister, not that it was any less annoying when it happened over and over. She was heartily sick of it and so was Sameera a lot of the time.
"Is there someone who could look after her? Keep her away from all of this, I mean are you very alone in this?" she supposed it was a little bit forward and definitely blunter than she likely should have been behaving but it wasn't going to stop the words, they were already said and definitely done with now "I serve in the palace, in fact, I am Saifya H'Haikaddad" while she could have tacked onto the title it wasn't really something that she felt suited this present conversation between the two of them.
The way she was looking at him made his chest ache in a pleasant way, and he knew full well that he was lost. Whether she knew yet or not he could only guess, and he told himself it was just to keep up the pretense that he allowed her fingers to tangle with his as she led him to the stall of fabric. The material he held before him had been a shield of sorts, though he chuckled as she said he ought to be honored that she wished to dress him. He was, and he wanted nothing more than for her opinion on his manner of dress for the rest of their lives. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't without securing the support of the council, but for today they could pretend.
"You flatter me. How am I to resist your whims?"
As soon as he spoke, voice low just for her as she touched his chest he knew he'd given away too much. Her palm through the gauze and material of his tunic felt as if it was burning him and he was certain that she could feel the beating of his heart quicken. Lifting a hand to steady against her waist as she stood on tiptoe was far too easy, and they were too close for propriety by any standards. He could only hope those passersby assumed that they were man and wife and simply let their gaze slide by instead of looking too closely and recognizing the queen and her general. It would be difficult to explain any of this away if they were seen.
"Hashet.." It was a word of warning, questioning, an old nickname that was safer than trying to address her properly with the market buzzing around them. He didn't know if she was intending to do what she was, but to protect her and her reputation he needed to break the spell she'd woven. Stepping back, he took the length of material from her and gave a nod to the vendor, drawing the other man over to wrap it up and take his coin. Keeping hold of the material, Osorsen offered her his arm to keep walking on together, eyes darting about to ensure that no one was watching them too closely.
"Come, we ought to keep moving else we'll be late for the boat back."
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The way she was looking at him made his chest ache in a pleasant way, and he knew full well that he was lost. Whether she knew yet or not he could only guess, and he told himself it was just to keep up the pretense that he allowed her fingers to tangle with his as she led him to the stall of fabric. The material he held before him had been a shield of sorts, though he chuckled as she said he ought to be honored that she wished to dress him. He was, and he wanted nothing more than for her opinion on his manner of dress for the rest of their lives. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't without securing the support of the council, but for today they could pretend.
"You flatter me. How am I to resist your whims?"
As soon as he spoke, voice low just for her as she touched his chest he knew he'd given away too much. Her palm through the gauze and material of his tunic felt as if it was burning him and he was certain that she could feel the beating of his heart quicken. Lifting a hand to steady against her waist as she stood on tiptoe was far too easy, and they were too close for propriety by any standards. He could only hope those passersby assumed that they were man and wife and simply let their gaze slide by instead of looking too closely and recognizing the queen and her general. It would be difficult to explain any of this away if they were seen.
"Hashet.." It was a word of warning, questioning, an old nickname that was safer than trying to address her properly with the market buzzing around them. He didn't know if she was intending to do what she was, but to protect her and her reputation he needed to break the spell she'd woven. Stepping back, he took the length of material from her and gave a nod to the vendor, drawing the other man over to wrap it up and take his coin. Keeping hold of the material, Osorsen offered her his arm to keep walking on together, eyes darting about to ensure that no one was watching them too closely.
"Come, we ought to keep moving else we'll be late for the boat back."
The way she was looking at him made his chest ache in a pleasant way, and he knew full well that he was lost. Whether she knew yet or not he could only guess, and he told himself it was just to keep up the pretense that he allowed her fingers to tangle with his as she led him to the stall of fabric. The material he held before him had been a shield of sorts, though he chuckled as she said he ought to be honored that she wished to dress him. He was, and he wanted nothing more than for her opinion on his manner of dress for the rest of their lives. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't without securing the support of the council, but for today they could pretend.
"You flatter me. How am I to resist your whims?"
As soon as he spoke, voice low just for her as she touched his chest he knew he'd given away too much. Her palm through the gauze and material of his tunic felt as if it was burning him and he was certain that she could feel the beating of his heart quicken. Lifting a hand to steady against her waist as she stood on tiptoe was far too easy, and they were too close for propriety by any standards. He could only hope those passersby assumed that they were man and wife and simply let their gaze slide by instead of looking too closely and recognizing the queen and her general. It would be difficult to explain any of this away if they were seen.
"Hashet.." It was a word of warning, questioning, an old nickname that was safer than trying to address her properly with the market buzzing around them. He didn't know if she was intending to do what she was, but to protect her and her reputation he needed to break the spell she'd woven. Stepping back, he took the length of material from her and gave a nod to the vendor, drawing the other man over to wrap it up and take his coin. Keeping hold of the material, Osorsen offered her his arm to keep walking on together, eyes darting about to ensure that no one was watching them too closely.
"Come, we ought to keep moving else we'll be late for the boat back."
Nafretiri, feeling that at last the woman seemed to sense her fear, almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least someoneprobably didn't think she was crazy. Or maybe the lady was just being nice, but right now Nafretiri would take either of those things happily. She nodded as she heard the other woman's theory, about thinking one saw a certain person everywhere.
"Yes, I think I've heard of something similar among the Bedoa. Good and evil twins, I think they call it. But if that were true, I'd wonder which one I was," she said, smiling more than a little sadly. "I could be wrong, my lady, but I think we might all do improper things, to an extent, when we are in danger." She wondered if the woman knew something of the kind of situation of which she spoke. Royalty and nobility were no strangers to danger- rank, perhaps, meant very little where danger was concerned.
Continuing to listen as her new acquaintance spoke, Nafretiri couldn't help feeling a little jarred when it seemed that the woman actually might be offering her assistance in the matter, introducing herself as someone who served in the palace.
"I- I mean-" Nafretiri couldn't do anything except stutter for a few seconds, but she did her best trying to recover herself. "Aneksi is watched after by the acolytes sometimes, when I need someone to watch her, but yes, I suppose you could say I am very alone in this- even there in Hathor's temple. Because I am foreign, some of the priestesses suggest that I was perhaps someone who danced for the previous Pharaoh, or some such nonsense. I am- I was- a survivor of a siege in Jerusalem, nothing more." She sighed a little. "Try convincing people who love gossip of that, though." Maybe working in the palace gave Safiya a penchant for gossip herself, but Nafretiri tried not to think that way. Perhaps, in a way she didn't quite understand, the rumors were a compliment to her beauty, but Nafretiri had had enough such strange compliments in her short life. She was tired of them. What had happened to her proved that she had met no one who ever really meant them beyond the surface.
"It is good to make your acquaintance, my lady, and I thank you for your assistance." Nafretiri bowed as was proper before selecting the sheer red fabric. "If you should ever need anything- perhaps an offering made?- my name is Nafretiri of Thebes."
She would not directly ask the lady for her advice on how to protect Aneksi. She wanted to with all of her being, but Nafretiri felt it would be rude at present. She rather liked the lady, and she had been helpful, and it didn't really seem fair that Nafretiri might take advantage of someone she had just met.
If only she weren't still so afraid, in general, she might have figured out a way to deal with this on her own by now. But alas, time healed the memory of some experiences quickly and the memory of others slowly. To try to control one's speed of healing was futile.
Still, perhaps today the gods were hastening a part of her healing by sending her a new friend. Only time itself would tell.
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Nafretiri, feeling that at last the woman seemed to sense her fear, almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least someoneprobably didn't think she was crazy. Or maybe the lady was just being nice, but right now Nafretiri would take either of those things happily. She nodded as she heard the other woman's theory, about thinking one saw a certain person everywhere.
"Yes, I think I've heard of something similar among the Bedoa. Good and evil twins, I think they call it. But if that were true, I'd wonder which one I was," she said, smiling more than a little sadly. "I could be wrong, my lady, but I think we might all do improper things, to an extent, when we are in danger." She wondered if the woman knew something of the kind of situation of which she spoke. Royalty and nobility were no strangers to danger- rank, perhaps, meant very little where danger was concerned.
Continuing to listen as her new acquaintance spoke, Nafretiri couldn't help feeling a little jarred when it seemed that the woman actually might be offering her assistance in the matter, introducing herself as someone who served in the palace.
"I- I mean-" Nafretiri couldn't do anything except stutter for a few seconds, but she did her best trying to recover herself. "Aneksi is watched after by the acolytes sometimes, when I need someone to watch her, but yes, I suppose you could say I am very alone in this- even there in Hathor's temple. Because I am foreign, some of the priestesses suggest that I was perhaps someone who danced for the previous Pharaoh, or some such nonsense. I am- I was- a survivor of a siege in Jerusalem, nothing more." She sighed a little. "Try convincing people who love gossip of that, though." Maybe working in the palace gave Safiya a penchant for gossip herself, but Nafretiri tried not to think that way. Perhaps, in a way she didn't quite understand, the rumors were a compliment to her beauty, but Nafretiri had had enough such strange compliments in her short life. She was tired of them. What had happened to her proved that she had met no one who ever really meant them beyond the surface.
"It is good to make your acquaintance, my lady, and I thank you for your assistance." Nafretiri bowed as was proper before selecting the sheer red fabric. "If you should ever need anything- perhaps an offering made?- my name is Nafretiri of Thebes."
She would not directly ask the lady for her advice on how to protect Aneksi. She wanted to with all of her being, but Nafretiri felt it would be rude at present. She rather liked the lady, and she had been helpful, and it didn't really seem fair that Nafretiri might take advantage of someone she had just met.
If only she weren't still so afraid, in general, she might have figured out a way to deal with this on her own by now. But alas, time healed the memory of some experiences quickly and the memory of others slowly. To try to control one's speed of healing was futile.
Still, perhaps today the gods were hastening a part of her healing by sending her a new friend. Only time itself would tell.
Nafretiri, feeling that at last the woman seemed to sense her fear, almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least someoneprobably didn't think she was crazy. Or maybe the lady was just being nice, but right now Nafretiri would take either of those things happily. She nodded as she heard the other woman's theory, about thinking one saw a certain person everywhere.
"Yes, I think I've heard of something similar among the Bedoa. Good and evil twins, I think they call it. But if that were true, I'd wonder which one I was," she said, smiling more than a little sadly. "I could be wrong, my lady, but I think we might all do improper things, to an extent, when we are in danger." She wondered if the woman knew something of the kind of situation of which she spoke. Royalty and nobility were no strangers to danger- rank, perhaps, meant very little where danger was concerned.
Continuing to listen as her new acquaintance spoke, Nafretiri couldn't help feeling a little jarred when it seemed that the woman actually might be offering her assistance in the matter, introducing herself as someone who served in the palace.
"I- I mean-" Nafretiri couldn't do anything except stutter for a few seconds, but she did her best trying to recover herself. "Aneksi is watched after by the acolytes sometimes, when I need someone to watch her, but yes, I suppose you could say I am very alone in this- even there in Hathor's temple. Because I am foreign, some of the priestesses suggest that I was perhaps someone who danced for the previous Pharaoh, or some such nonsense. I am- I was- a survivor of a siege in Jerusalem, nothing more." She sighed a little. "Try convincing people who love gossip of that, though." Maybe working in the palace gave Safiya a penchant for gossip herself, but Nafretiri tried not to think that way. Perhaps, in a way she didn't quite understand, the rumors were a compliment to her beauty, but Nafretiri had had enough such strange compliments in her short life. She was tired of them. What had happened to her proved that she had met no one who ever really meant them beyond the surface.
"It is good to make your acquaintance, my lady, and I thank you for your assistance." Nafretiri bowed as was proper before selecting the sheer red fabric. "If you should ever need anything- perhaps an offering made?- my name is Nafretiri of Thebes."
She would not directly ask the lady for her advice on how to protect Aneksi. She wanted to with all of her being, but Nafretiri felt it would be rude at present. She rather liked the lady, and she had been helpful, and it didn't really seem fair that Nafretiri might take advantage of someone she had just met.
If only she weren't still so afraid, in general, she might have figured out a way to deal with this on her own by now. But alas, time healed the memory of some experiences quickly and the memory of others slowly. To try to control one's speed of healing was futile.
Still, perhaps today the gods were hastening a part of her healing by sending her a new friend. Only time itself would tell.
Gossip A Thousand Threads
"Look over there! Do you see? Do you see? The Queen! And there's a man with her!"
"That's not the Queen!"
"What are you talking about? It's totally her!"
"You think every other woman you see is Queen this or Emperor that! You hang on gossip too much. Besides, what would the Queen be doing with a guy like that?"
"What do you mean I guy like that? That's General Moghadam!"
"He's not a soldier! Look at him! He's too pretty to be a soldier!"
"He is though! I thought he was at war. But clearly he came back..."
"And got himself involved with a pretty little thing by the looks of it."
"Shuushh! That's our Queen you're talking about. And besides, he's far too old for her!"
"Oh to the Gods, it's not her! There's no way the Queen Dowager would allow the Queen to marry someone young and uneducated and parade with him around the streets. The Queen needs a set of older, expert hands."
"Expert in what, though? <laughs>"
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"Look over there! Do you see? Do you see? The Queen! And there's a man with her!"
"That's not the Queen!"
"What are you talking about? It's totally her!"
"You think every other woman you see is Queen this or Emperor that! You hang on gossip too much. Besides, what would the Queen be doing with a guy like that?"
"What do you mean I guy like that? That's General Moghadam!"
"He's not a soldier! Look at him! He's too pretty to be a soldier!"
"He is though! I thought he was at war. But clearly he came back..."
"And got himself involved with a pretty little thing by the looks of it."
"Shuushh! That's our Queen you're talking about. And besides, he's far too old for her!"
"Oh to the Gods, it's not her! There's no way the Queen Dowager would allow the Queen to marry someone young and uneducated and parade with him around the streets. The Queen needs a set of older, expert hands."
"Expert in what, though? <laughs>"
Gossip A Thousand Threads
"Look over there! Do you see? Do you see? The Queen! And there's a man with her!"
"That's not the Queen!"
"What are you talking about? It's totally her!"
"You think every other woman you see is Queen this or Emperor that! You hang on gossip too much. Besides, what would the Queen be doing with a guy like that?"
"What do you mean I guy like that? That's General Moghadam!"
"He's not a soldier! Look at him! He's too pretty to be a soldier!"
"He is though! I thought he was at war. But clearly he came back..."
"And got himself involved with a pretty little thing by the looks of it."
"Shuushh! That's our Queen you're talking about. And besides, he's far too old for her!"
"Oh to the Gods, it's not her! There's no way the Queen Dowager would allow the Queen to marry someone young and uneducated and parade with him around the streets. The Queen needs a set of older, expert hands."
"Expert in what, though? <laughs>"
“You can’t resist me.” Hatshepsut’s voice was teasing, playful. “So you shouldn’t even try.” How she wished it was true, that Osorsen was not just, as he said, indulging her whims. Was there somewhere else he would rather be today, someone else he would rather be with? He was twice her age. Why would he choose to spend time with a fifteen-year-old, even one who had become a friend, when there were probably a million beautiful women vying for his attention?
She did not miss the admiring glances of the young women who passed by. Even if they didn’t know who he was, he was a magnificent sight to behold. They glared at her, envious that she was the one she had chosen to bring to this event. And she did feel privileged to be his companion for the day, even if she had wheedled him into it. And he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she was. Could it be that he really did love her but wasn’t sure how to tell her?
Osorsen had to be aware that now she was of marriageable age, men would be showering her with attention just for the chance to become Pharaoh. Maybe he believed that she thought that he was just one of them, not realizing that he had proved again and again that he was not. If only she could just ask him how he felt about her. But no, if he knew she loved him, he might push her away and she would rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
Hatshepsut wanted so desperately to touch him, and the fabric gave her the excuse to do so, if only indirectly. Smoothing the fabric against his chest, she allowed her hand to halt over his heart. She could feel it beating. Did it seem a bit fast, or was that only her imagination? Maybe he was afraid that they would be discovered? The young Queen had no such qualms. They had been here long enough that it was doubtful that she would be recognized now.
She felt Osorsen’s steadying hand on her waist as she stood on tiptoe to lift the fabric to his face. Her fingers lightly brushed his cheek and her gaze fell to his well-formed lips, wondering what they would taste like if she dared to kiss him. She wanted to, she longed to kiss him with all her heart, but she was afraid that he would not respond as she hoped he would. He whispered his special nickname for her, and she thought that she heard a note of affection in his voice. Did he want her to kiss him too?
No, apparently not. Her heels abruptly hit the ground as he pulled away, took the bolt of fabric, and beckoned the vendor over so he could pay for it. His rejection felt like a slap in the face, and tears brimmed behind the young Queen’s eyes. Well, now she knew what he thought of her … he saw her as a friend and nothing more. Maybe his use of her nickname had not been an endearment but a reminder that in his eyes, she was still that little girl who had listened wide-eyed to his stories. She was so hurt that it didn’t cross her mind that he was trying to protect her.
Hatshepsut looked down at the arm Osorsen offered her. Yes, they should probably keep moving, but did they have to go back to the boat so soon? Was he thateager to get rid of her? With a little sigh of resignation, she took his arm, the warmth of his skin suffusing her own with delectable heat which quickly spread through her nubile young body. She tried to push those sensations away, but it was impossible. Perhaps after today, she shouldn’t see …
Voices interrupted her sorrowful thoughts. Someone had recognized her as well as Osorsen! Usually, she paid no attention to gossip. ‘Queen sightings’ weren’t uncommon, and Hatshepsut often wished she could visit the places people supposedly saw her in. Both she and Osorsen were mentioned this time. The speakers didn’t seem certain it was really them, but if they lingered too long, their identities might be confirmed.
Her hand tightened on the General’s arm and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Oso,” she whispered, panic evident in her quiet voice. “Get me out of here. We need to find a place to hide until the rumors dissipate.”
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“You can’t resist me.” Hatshepsut’s voice was teasing, playful. “So you shouldn’t even try.” How she wished it was true, that Osorsen was not just, as he said, indulging her whims. Was there somewhere else he would rather be today, someone else he would rather be with? He was twice her age. Why would he choose to spend time with a fifteen-year-old, even one who had become a friend, when there were probably a million beautiful women vying for his attention?
She did not miss the admiring glances of the young women who passed by. Even if they didn’t know who he was, he was a magnificent sight to behold. They glared at her, envious that she was the one she had chosen to bring to this event. And she did feel privileged to be his companion for the day, even if she had wheedled him into it. And he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she was. Could it be that he really did love her but wasn’t sure how to tell her?
Osorsen had to be aware that now she was of marriageable age, men would be showering her with attention just for the chance to become Pharaoh. Maybe he believed that she thought that he was just one of them, not realizing that he had proved again and again that he was not. If only she could just ask him how he felt about her. But no, if he knew she loved him, he might push her away and she would rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
Hatshepsut wanted so desperately to touch him, and the fabric gave her the excuse to do so, if only indirectly. Smoothing the fabric against his chest, she allowed her hand to halt over his heart. She could feel it beating. Did it seem a bit fast, or was that only her imagination? Maybe he was afraid that they would be discovered? The young Queen had no such qualms. They had been here long enough that it was doubtful that she would be recognized now.
She felt Osorsen’s steadying hand on her waist as she stood on tiptoe to lift the fabric to his face. Her fingers lightly brushed his cheek and her gaze fell to his well-formed lips, wondering what they would taste like if she dared to kiss him. She wanted to, she longed to kiss him with all her heart, but she was afraid that he would not respond as she hoped he would. He whispered his special nickname for her, and she thought that she heard a note of affection in his voice. Did he want her to kiss him too?
No, apparently not. Her heels abruptly hit the ground as he pulled away, took the bolt of fabric, and beckoned the vendor over so he could pay for it. His rejection felt like a slap in the face, and tears brimmed behind the young Queen’s eyes. Well, now she knew what he thought of her … he saw her as a friend and nothing more. Maybe his use of her nickname had not been an endearment but a reminder that in his eyes, she was still that little girl who had listened wide-eyed to his stories. She was so hurt that it didn’t cross her mind that he was trying to protect her.
Hatshepsut looked down at the arm Osorsen offered her. Yes, they should probably keep moving, but did they have to go back to the boat so soon? Was he thateager to get rid of her? With a little sigh of resignation, she took his arm, the warmth of his skin suffusing her own with delectable heat which quickly spread through her nubile young body. She tried to push those sensations away, but it was impossible. Perhaps after today, she shouldn’t see …
Voices interrupted her sorrowful thoughts. Someone had recognized her as well as Osorsen! Usually, she paid no attention to gossip. ‘Queen sightings’ weren’t uncommon, and Hatshepsut often wished she could visit the places people supposedly saw her in. Both she and Osorsen were mentioned this time. The speakers didn’t seem certain it was really them, but if they lingered too long, their identities might be confirmed.
Her hand tightened on the General’s arm and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Oso,” she whispered, panic evident in her quiet voice. “Get me out of here. We need to find a place to hide until the rumors dissipate.”
“You can’t resist me.” Hatshepsut’s voice was teasing, playful. “So you shouldn’t even try.” How she wished it was true, that Osorsen was not just, as he said, indulging her whims. Was there somewhere else he would rather be today, someone else he would rather be with? He was twice her age. Why would he choose to spend time with a fifteen-year-old, even one who had become a friend, when there were probably a million beautiful women vying for his attention?
She did not miss the admiring glances of the young women who passed by. Even if they didn’t know who he was, he was a magnificent sight to behold. They glared at her, envious that she was the one she had chosen to bring to this event. And she did feel privileged to be his companion for the day, even if she had wheedled him into it. And he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she was. Could it be that he really did love her but wasn’t sure how to tell her?
Osorsen had to be aware that now she was of marriageable age, men would be showering her with attention just for the chance to become Pharaoh. Maybe he believed that she thought that he was just one of them, not realizing that he had proved again and again that he was not. If only she could just ask him how he felt about her. But no, if he knew she loved him, he might push her away and she would rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
Hatshepsut wanted so desperately to touch him, and the fabric gave her the excuse to do so, if only indirectly. Smoothing the fabric against his chest, she allowed her hand to halt over his heart. She could feel it beating. Did it seem a bit fast, or was that only her imagination? Maybe he was afraid that they would be discovered? The young Queen had no such qualms. They had been here long enough that it was doubtful that she would be recognized now.
She felt Osorsen’s steadying hand on her waist as she stood on tiptoe to lift the fabric to his face. Her fingers lightly brushed his cheek and her gaze fell to his well-formed lips, wondering what they would taste like if she dared to kiss him. She wanted to, she longed to kiss him with all her heart, but she was afraid that he would not respond as she hoped he would. He whispered his special nickname for her, and she thought that she heard a note of affection in his voice. Did he want her to kiss him too?
No, apparently not. Her heels abruptly hit the ground as he pulled away, took the bolt of fabric, and beckoned the vendor over so he could pay for it. His rejection felt like a slap in the face, and tears brimmed behind the young Queen’s eyes. Well, now she knew what he thought of her … he saw her as a friend and nothing more. Maybe his use of her nickname had not been an endearment but a reminder that in his eyes, she was still that little girl who had listened wide-eyed to his stories. She was so hurt that it didn’t cross her mind that he was trying to protect her.
Hatshepsut looked down at the arm Osorsen offered her. Yes, they should probably keep moving, but did they have to go back to the boat so soon? Was he thateager to get rid of her? With a little sigh of resignation, she took his arm, the warmth of his skin suffusing her own with delectable heat which quickly spread through her nubile young body. She tried to push those sensations away, but it was impossible. Perhaps after today, she shouldn’t see …
Voices interrupted her sorrowful thoughts. Someone had recognized her as well as Osorsen! Usually, she paid no attention to gossip. ‘Queen sightings’ weren’t uncommon, and Hatshepsut often wished she could visit the places people supposedly saw her in. Both she and Osorsen were mentioned this time. The speakers didn’t seem certain it was really them, but if they lingered too long, their identities might be confirmed.
Her hand tightened on the General’s arm and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Oso,” she whispered, panic evident in her quiet voice. “Get me out of here. We need to find a place to hide until the rumors dissipate.”
"On the contrary, I have to try incredibly hard."
Once again he gave too much, letting their touches and words slip away, gazes breaking as they focused on purchasing the material and moving swiftly through the crowds. He heard the whispers as she did, his jaw growing tense though he tried not to let it show. No one could get close enough to recognize her, they would both be in trouble for that and he only had his daggers to protect them both. Enough to fight off one or two, but not to keep at bay an entire mob of the public who wished to attend to their queen.
As they passed by more who turned to whisper to one another, he gave a subtle nod for his young charge. There were many places to hide and wait out the whispers and rumors, let people forget until the next thing that caught their eye won their attention. Without a word he turned down a small side street, holding her close as they vanished from the main thoroughfare and into relative safety and anonymity.
"Here, wrap this around you. Cover your face just in case." The general took them on a winding path of back roads and alley ways until they found themselves in one street that was far enough away from the souk that was deserted. Everyone was at the market today, and now that they'd gotten off the main tracks they could make their way back to the palace with little interruption.
With a reassuring smile, Oso paused them in their tracks and turned to her, breaking all decorum as he reached for the shawl he'd handed her. It was his own, but it made little difference if he had it or not. His tunic had long sleeves to cover his tattoos, and it was more important for the rumors to avoid mention of Hatshepsut. If he was seen gallivanting around with an unknown woman, his reputation would be none the worse for it. But she needed to be protected at all costs, and he would not allow her to be discovered so long as he had breath in him.
Tucking the shawl around her, his fingers brushed back her ink dark locks as he pulled it forward over the sides of her face. It would be so easy for him to touch her cheeks, feel how soft her lips and throat were. The warmth of her was radiating through him being so close, and he felt as if he were burning himself. He'd desired many women in his life, was certainly no shy stranger to the comforts and pleasures partnership could bring, but no one had captivated him quite like her. Everyone would accuse him of desiring only her title, but there was something else about her that drew him like a moth to a flame. She was his flame to protect at all costs, and whatever choice she made he would be there to ensure that her brightness never went out. That she would always be his clever, sweet, miraculous Hashet.
"We can wait here, or start weaving back toward the palace. Whatever you desire." Could she feel the heat as well? Or was it just in his own mind. He had to release veil he had created for her, allow her to move away, but he couldn't just yet. Instead he could feel himself slipping, his palms cupping her cheeks as his lips brushed against her forehead. He should pull back now, release her and keep going as she directed. Walk away before he did anything that would get his head put on a pike. It was that thought in his mind as he tipped her chin up and kissed her softly.
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"On the contrary, I have to try incredibly hard."
Once again he gave too much, letting their touches and words slip away, gazes breaking as they focused on purchasing the material and moving swiftly through the crowds. He heard the whispers as she did, his jaw growing tense though he tried not to let it show. No one could get close enough to recognize her, they would both be in trouble for that and he only had his daggers to protect them both. Enough to fight off one or two, but not to keep at bay an entire mob of the public who wished to attend to their queen.
As they passed by more who turned to whisper to one another, he gave a subtle nod for his young charge. There were many places to hide and wait out the whispers and rumors, let people forget until the next thing that caught their eye won their attention. Without a word he turned down a small side street, holding her close as they vanished from the main thoroughfare and into relative safety and anonymity.
"Here, wrap this around you. Cover your face just in case." The general took them on a winding path of back roads and alley ways until they found themselves in one street that was far enough away from the souk that was deserted. Everyone was at the market today, and now that they'd gotten off the main tracks they could make their way back to the palace with little interruption.
With a reassuring smile, Oso paused them in their tracks and turned to her, breaking all decorum as he reached for the shawl he'd handed her. It was his own, but it made little difference if he had it or not. His tunic had long sleeves to cover his tattoos, and it was more important for the rumors to avoid mention of Hatshepsut. If he was seen gallivanting around with an unknown woman, his reputation would be none the worse for it. But she needed to be protected at all costs, and he would not allow her to be discovered so long as he had breath in him.
Tucking the shawl around her, his fingers brushed back her ink dark locks as he pulled it forward over the sides of her face. It would be so easy for him to touch her cheeks, feel how soft her lips and throat were. The warmth of her was radiating through him being so close, and he felt as if he were burning himself. He'd desired many women in his life, was certainly no shy stranger to the comforts and pleasures partnership could bring, but no one had captivated him quite like her. Everyone would accuse him of desiring only her title, but there was something else about her that drew him like a moth to a flame. She was his flame to protect at all costs, and whatever choice she made he would be there to ensure that her brightness never went out. That she would always be his clever, sweet, miraculous Hashet.
"We can wait here, or start weaving back toward the palace. Whatever you desire." Could she feel the heat as well? Or was it just in his own mind. He had to release veil he had created for her, allow her to move away, but he couldn't just yet. Instead he could feel himself slipping, his palms cupping her cheeks as his lips brushed against her forehead. He should pull back now, release her and keep going as she directed. Walk away before he did anything that would get his head put on a pike. It was that thought in his mind as he tipped her chin up and kissed her softly.
"On the contrary, I have to try incredibly hard."
Once again he gave too much, letting their touches and words slip away, gazes breaking as they focused on purchasing the material and moving swiftly through the crowds. He heard the whispers as she did, his jaw growing tense though he tried not to let it show. No one could get close enough to recognize her, they would both be in trouble for that and he only had his daggers to protect them both. Enough to fight off one or two, but not to keep at bay an entire mob of the public who wished to attend to their queen.
As they passed by more who turned to whisper to one another, he gave a subtle nod for his young charge. There were many places to hide and wait out the whispers and rumors, let people forget until the next thing that caught their eye won their attention. Without a word he turned down a small side street, holding her close as they vanished from the main thoroughfare and into relative safety and anonymity.
"Here, wrap this around you. Cover your face just in case." The general took them on a winding path of back roads and alley ways until they found themselves in one street that was far enough away from the souk that was deserted. Everyone was at the market today, and now that they'd gotten off the main tracks they could make their way back to the palace with little interruption.
With a reassuring smile, Oso paused them in their tracks and turned to her, breaking all decorum as he reached for the shawl he'd handed her. It was his own, but it made little difference if he had it or not. His tunic had long sleeves to cover his tattoos, and it was more important for the rumors to avoid mention of Hatshepsut. If he was seen gallivanting around with an unknown woman, his reputation would be none the worse for it. But she needed to be protected at all costs, and he would not allow her to be discovered so long as he had breath in him.
Tucking the shawl around her, his fingers brushed back her ink dark locks as he pulled it forward over the sides of her face. It would be so easy for him to touch her cheeks, feel how soft her lips and throat were. The warmth of her was radiating through him being so close, and he felt as if he were burning himself. He'd desired many women in his life, was certainly no shy stranger to the comforts and pleasures partnership could bring, but no one had captivated him quite like her. Everyone would accuse him of desiring only her title, but there was something else about her that drew him like a moth to a flame. She was his flame to protect at all costs, and whatever choice she made he would be there to ensure that her brightness never went out. That she would always be his clever, sweet, miraculous Hashet.
"We can wait here, or start weaving back toward the palace. Whatever you desire." Could she feel the heat as well? Or was it just in his own mind. He had to release veil he had created for her, allow her to move away, but he couldn't just yet. Instead he could feel himself slipping, his palms cupping her cheeks as his lips brushed against her forehead. He should pull back now, release her and keep going as she directed. Walk away before he did anything that would get his head put on a pike. It was that thought in his mind as he tipped her chin up and kissed her softly.
He had to try hard to resist her? Really? A bright little thrill shimmered down Hatshepsut’s spine at the notion that Osorsen might have romantic feelings for her. No, he was probably just teasing her, as he often did. He certainly didn’t seem very affectionate as they wound their way through the ever-moving throng of people meandering this way and that.
Her elation faded into disappointment as she followed where he led, certain that he was taking her back to the boat so he could rid himself of her. Maybe he had seen a woman in the crowd he wished to pursue and didn’t want to be saddled with his Queen when he tried to seduce her. Envy wrapped its dark tendrils around her soul. She wanted to be the one he desired, the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.
And then her disappointment exploded into fear. Osorson nodded at her panicked plea and pulled her close, ducking into an uncrowded side street. He handed her his shawl and told her to cover her face, which she did. The piece of cloth carried his scent and she breathed of it deeply as he led them farther away from the market place. Hatshepsut didn’t care where they were going; she knew that her beloved General would keep her safe. Clutched against his side, his warmth enveloped her like the heat of a hot summer sun. If he never let her go, she would be content.
At length, Osorson stopped and pulled away. His smile, as usual, melted her heart, though she felt bereft without any physical contact between them. The young Queen gazed up at him as he adjusted the scarf around her face, trembling when he pushed stray locks of her hair beneath it. It had been hard to wrap it properly while moving, but she had done the best she could. Hatshepsut was actually pleased that she had not done a good job for she adored his attentions, even if he was only making sure that she would not be recognized.
Dropping her eyes so that she was looking straight ahead, she found herself eye-level with his muscular chest. Oh, how she wished to touch him, to slide her hands beneath his tunic and revel in the feel of his bare skin! The thought was so tempting that her slender fingers clutched at the skirt of her kalisaris to keep from reaching out. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to control her emotions. Osorson intoxicated each one of her senses and all she wanted to do was surrender herself to the pleasure she knew she would find in his arms.
Hatshepsut looked up again when he spoke, her gaze moving over his fine features, resting for a moment on his lips, before focusing on his intelligent blue eyes. “It does not matter as long as we are safe,” she replied a bit breathlessly. As long as I’m with you, I do not care where we are. Without any warning, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. Her face entrapped by Osorson’s warm and gentle hands, she gazed up at him with wide dark eyes, hoping, hoping, hoping …
And then, as if he had sensed her thoughts, he lifted her chin and his lips met hers. His gentle kiss seemed to suck all the breath from her lungs, to stop her heart, to drain the heat from her. It was if the very essence of him filled her and she was born again. The scarf fell away from her face but it no longer mattered. She was where she was meant to be. Standing on tiptoe, she entwined her arms around his neck, pressing her curves against him. Never had her body sung with such sweet sensations. It felt as if the rest of the world fell away and there was nothing left but him and her and the rapid beating of their hearts.
“I love you, Oso,” she whispered against his lips.
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He had to try hard to resist her? Really? A bright little thrill shimmered down Hatshepsut’s spine at the notion that Osorsen might have romantic feelings for her. No, he was probably just teasing her, as he often did. He certainly didn’t seem very affectionate as they wound their way through the ever-moving throng of people meandering this way and that.
Her elation faded into disappointment as she followed where he led, certain that he was taking her back to the boat so he could rid himself of her. Maybe he had seen a woman in the crowd he wished to pursue and didn’t want to be saddled with his Queen when he tried to seduce her. Envy wrapped its dark tendrils around her soul. She wanted to be the one he desired, the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.
And then her disappointment exploded into fear. Osorson nodded at her panicked plea and pulled her close, ducking into an uncrowded side street. He handed her his shawl and told her to cover her face, which she did. The piece of cloth carried his scent and she breathed of it deeply as he led them farther away from the market place. Hatshepsut didn’t care where they were going; she knew that her beloved General would keep her safe. Clutched against his side, his warmth enveloped her like the heat of a hot summer sun. If he never let her go, she would be content.
At length, Osorson stopped and pulled away. His smile, as usual, melted her heart, though she felt bereft without any physical contact between them. The young Queen gazed up at him as he adjusted the scarf around her face, trembling when he pushed stray locks of her hair beneath it. It had been hard to wrap it properly while moving, but she had done the best she could. Hatshepsut was actually pleased that she had not done a good job for she adored his attentions, even if he was only making sure that she would not be recognized.
Dropping her eyes so that she was looking straight ahead, she found herself eye-level with his muscular chest. Oh, how she wished to touch him, to slide her hands beneath his tunic and revel in the feel of his bare skin! The thought was so tempting that her slender fingers clutched at the skirt of her kalisaris to keep from reaching out. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to control her emotions. Osorson intoxicated each one of her senses and all she wanted to do was surrender herself to the pleasure she knew she would find in his arms.
Hatshepsut looked up again when he spoke, her gaze moving over his fine features, resting for a moment on his lips, before focusing on his intelligent blue eyes. “It does not matter as long as we are safe,” she replied a bit breathlessly. As long as I’m with you, I do not care where we are. Without any warning, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. Her face entrapped by Osorson’s warm and gentle hands, she gazed up at him with wide dark eyes, hoping, hoping, hoping …
And then, as if he had sensed her thoughts, he lifted her chin and his lips met hers. His gentle kiss seemed to suck all the breath from her lungs, to stop her heart, to drain the heat from her. It was if the very essence of him filled her and she was born again. The scarf fell away from her face but it no longer mattered. She was where she was meant to be. Standing on tiptoe, she entwined her arms around his neck, pressing her curves against him. Never had her body sung with such sweet sensations. It felt as if the rest of the world fell away and there was nothing left but him and her and the rapid beating of their hearts.
“I love you, Oso,” she whispered against his lips.
He had to try hard to resist her? Really? A bright little thrill shimmered down Hatshepsut’s spine at the notion that Osorsen might have romantic feelings for her. No, he was probably just teasing her, as he often did. He certainly didn’t seem very affectionate as they wound their way through the ever-moving throng of people meandering this way and that.
Her elation faded into disappointment as she followed where he led, certain that he was taking her back to the boat so he could rid himself of her. Maybe he had seen a woman in the crowd he wished to pursue and didn’t want to be saddled with his Queen when he tried to seduce her. Envy wrapped its dark tendrils around her soul. She wanted to be the one he desired, the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.
And then her disappointment exploded into fear. Osorson nodded at her panicked plea and pulled her close, ducking into an uncrowded side street. He handed her his shawl and told her to cover her face, which she did. The piece of cloth carried his scent and she breathed of it deeply as he led them farther away from the market place. Hatshepsut didn’t care where they were going; she knew that her beloved General would keep her safe. Clutched against his side, his warmth enveloped her like the heat of a hot summer sun. If he never let her go, she would be content.
At length, Osorson stopped and pulled away. His smile, as usual, melted her heart, though she felt bereft without any physical contact between them. The young Queen gazed up at him as he adjusted the scarf around her face, trembling when he pushed stray locks of her hair beneath it. It had been hard to wrap it properly while moving, but she had done the best she could. Hatshepsut was actually pleased that she had not done a good job for she adored his attentions, even if he was only making sure that she would not be recognized.
Dropping her eyes so that she was looking straight ahead, she found herself eye-level with his muscular chest. Oh, how she wished to touch him, to slide her hands beneath his tunic and revel in the feel of his bare skin! The thought was so tempting that her slender fingers clutched at the skirt of her kalisaris to keep from reaching out. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to control her emotions. Osorson intoxicated each one of her senses and all she wanted to do was surrender herself to the pleasure she knew she would find in his arms.
Hatshepsut looked up again when he spoke, her gaze moving over his fine features, resting for a moment on his lips, before focusing on his intelligent blue eyes. “It does not matter as long as we are safe,” she replied a bit breathlessly. As long as I’m with you, I do not care where we are. Without any warning, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. Her face entrapped by Osorson’s warm and gentle hands, she gazed up at him with wide dark eyes, hoping, hoping, hoping …
And then, as if he had sensed her thoughts, he lifted her chin and his lips met hers. His gentle kiss seemed to suck all the breath from her lungs, to stop her heart, to drain the heat from her. It was if the very essence of him filled her and she was born again. The scarf fell away from her face but it no longer mattered. She was where she was meant to be. Standing on tiptoe, she entwined her arms around his neck, pressing her curves against him. Never had her body sung with such sweet sensations. It felt as if the rest of the world fell away and there was nothing left but him and her and the rapid beating of their hearts.
“I love you, Oso,” she whispered against his lips.