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She had found it draped across a low branch of a tree in the gardens, a worn, tattered thing that was more gray than white. How it had gotten into the garden Hatshepsut had no idea. Maybe it belonged to a slave who had sneaked out of the palace for a secret rendezvous. Or perhaps it had been discarded by one of the petitioners who had come to have a dispute mediated by the Queen. There had been a session that morning in the throne room and she had sat by her mother as she made a decision in each case.
Hatshepsut had impulsively taken the shawl to her room and placed it in the bottom of one of the chests that held her clothes. As the days wore on, she concocted a plan as to how she might use it. She had always been curious about the stalls in the Grand Souk and had wondered what it would be like to simply stroll around and browse like the commoners and nobles that frequented it. Actually walking among her people might also tell her more about them, so that she would have more insight into their lives and what they wanted and needed. It would be a little adventure.
And so, one afternoon when she went to the Souk to distribute alms to the poor, she kept the curtains on her sedan chair covered as her servants and retainers handed out food and coins. After unfastening the jeweled brooch that held her sheer filmy kalisaris in place, Hatshepsut took it off as well as all of her jewelry. Beneath it, she wore a simple linen sheath which wouldn't look out of place in the Souk even though it was made of very fine fabric. She had been sitting on the old shawl so nobody would see it and she pulled it out from under her and wrapped it around her shoulders, arranging it so that it covered her hair and left her face in shadow.
She had instructed the bearers to set the sedan chair down in front of a building so that she could part the curtains and slip out unobtrusively. Hiding herself in the crowd, Hatshepsut watched her servants doling out charity for a few moments. Everything seemed surreal from her forbidden point of view. Soon, though, she was happily perusing the merchandise available, going from stall to stall and listening to the conversations around her. She knew she couldn't stay away very long and determined to make the most of the time she had.
Stopping at a food stall, she bought a pasty that smelled delicious. Unfortunately, it was a bit too greasy for her and she fed it to a cat who had appeared from behind the stall to rub against her legs. It was obvious that the little feline had recently had kittens and the young Queen decided to follow it to make sure that the babies were in a safe place. If not, she would take them home with her. Cats, were, after all, sacred animals.
She had not been tracking it long when a menacing shadow fell over her and she found herself staring at a broad chest covered with a rather grimy tunic that reeked of salt and sweat. “Well, well, what have we here?” a gruff voice barked in Greek, and Hatshepsut looked up into a rough bearded face with small mean eyes and a nose that had been broken more than once.
Fear clutched her heart and she reached up to pull her shawl further over her face with her free hand. A second man grabbed her hand and studied it. “And she ain't no whore, neither,” he said. His head was as bald as an Egyptian’s but much lighter in tone. It gleamed in the light of the sun. “Looks like she ain't done a day of work in her life. We got us a noblewoman, here, fellas.”
Two more unsavory characters lurked behind her. The air smelled like salt and fish and she realized that she had followed the cat away from the Souk and towards the docks. There were no other people around but the four men ... who were probably sailors or even pirates ... and herself. Screaming would do no good here and they probably wouldn't care that she was the Queen of Egypt. In fact, if she revealed her identity, they might try to either kidnap or kill her. “It looks like our lucky day,” one of the others said. He leaned down to Hatshepsut's level and favored her with a lewd grin made all the more frightening by the absence of about half his teeth. His breath smelled like a chamber pot. “C'mere, love, and give me a kiss.”
The second man guffawed so loudly it made her jump. “I want more from her than just a kiss.” He grabbed her from behind and turned her around to face him. Her heart pounded in terror and she could think of nothing else but getting away. Instinctively, she stepped down hard on his foot, and when he yelped and let her go, she leapt of the way. “A lively one!” the third sailor exclaimed. She whirled around as as lunged at her and barely missed being grabbed by his meaty hands.
The one who had not yet spoken caught her before she could run. He pinned her hands to her sides and brought his mouth close to hers. Hatshepsut kneed him hard in the groin, and he released her and doubled over in pain. The young Queen turned to run back the way she had come, but one of the sailors grabbed her arm and lurched her back. Her other arm was captured as well, and one of them slammed a hand roughly over her mouth so she couldn't cry out. The one who had spoken first advanced upon her with a glare that was a chilling mixture of lust and anger. “There's no getting away from us now, girlie,” he said. “You're ours now, for as long as we wish to have you.”
Hatshepsut gulped and closed her eyes. They held her so firmly that she couldn't even struggle. Why had she left the safety of her sedan chair? If she had not longed for a bit of stolen freedom, she wouldn't be in this predicament. As it was, she doubted she would live to see the morrow, and if she did …. she would wish she was dead.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was the shawl that inspired her.
She had found it draped across a low branch of a tree in the gardens, a worn, tattered thing that was more gray than white. How it had gotten into the garden Hatshepsut had no idea. Maybe it belonged to a slave who had sneaked out of the palace for a secret rendezvous. Or perhaps it had been discarded by one of the petitioners who had come to have a dispute mediated by the Queen. There had been a session that morning in the throne room and she had sat by her mother as she made a decision in each case.
Hatshepsut had impulsively taken the shawl to her room and placed it in the bottom of one of the chests that held her clothes. As the days wore on, she concocted a plan as to how she might use it. She had always been curious about the stalls in the Grand Souk and had wondered what it would be like to simply stroll around and browse like the commoners and nobles that frequented it. Actually walking among her people might also tell her more about them, so that she would have more insight into their lives and what they wanted and needed. It would be a little adventure.
And so, one afternoon when she went to the Souk to distribute alms to the poor, she kept the curtains on her sedan chair covered as her servants and retainers handed out food and coins. After unfastening the jeweled brooch that held her sheer filmy kalisaris in place, Hatshepsut took it off as well as all of her jewelry. Beneath it, she wore a simple linen sheath which wouldn't look out of place in the Souk even though it was made of very fine fabric. She had been sitting on the old shawl so nobody would see it and she pulled it out from under her and wrapped it around her shoulders, arranging it so that it covered her hair and left her face in shadow.
She had instructed the bearers to set the sedan chair down in front of a building so that she could part the curtains and slip out unobtrusively. Hiding herself in the crowd, Hatshepsut watched her servants doling out charity for a few moments. Everything seemed surreal from her forbidden point of view. Soon, though, she was happily perusing the merchandise available, going from stall to stall and listening to the conversations around her. She knew she couldn't stay away very long and determined to make the most of the time she had.
Stopping at a food stall, she bought a pasty that smelled delicious. Unfortunately, it was a bit too greasy for her and she fed it to a cat who had appeared from behind the stall to rub against her legs. It was obvious that the little feline had recently had kittens and the young Queen decided to follow it to make sure that the babies were in a safe place. If not, she would take them home with her. Cats, were, after all, sacred animals.
She had not been tracking it long when a menacing shadow fell over her and she found herself staring at a broad chest covered with a rather grimy tunic that reeked of salt and sweat. “Well, well, what have we here?” a gruff voice barked in Greek, and Hatshepsut looked up into a rough bearded face with small mean eyes and a nose that had been broken more than once.
Fear clutched her heart and she reached up to pull her shawl further over her face with her free hand. A second man grabbed her hand and studied it. “And she ain't no whore, neither,” he said. His head was as bald as an Egyptian’s but much lighter in tone. It gleamed in the light of the sun. “Looks like she ain't done a day of work in her life. We got us a noblewoman, here, fellas.”
Two more unsavory characters lurked behind her. The air smelled like salt and fish and she realized that she had followed the cat away from the Souk and towards the docks. There were no other people around but the four men ... who were probably sailors or even pirates ... and herself. Screaming would do no good here and they probably wouldn't care that she was the Queen of Egypt. In fact, if she revealed her identity, they might try to either kidnap or kill her. “It looks like our lucky day,” one of the others said. He leaned down to Hatshepsut's level and favored her with a lewd grin made all the more frightening by the absence of about half his teeth. His breath smelled like a chamber pot. “C'mere, love, and give me a kiss.”
The second man guffawed so loudly it made her jump. “I want more from her than just a kiss.” He grabbed her from behind and turned her around to face him. Her heart pounded in terror and she could think of nothing else but getting away. Instinctively, she stepped down hard on his foot, and when he yelped and let her go, she leapt of the way. “A lively one!” the third sailor exclaimed. She whirled around as as lunged at her and barely missed being grabbed by his meaty hands.
The one who had not yet spoken caught her before she could run. He pinned her hands to her sides and brought his mouth close to hers. Hatshepsut kneed him hard in the groin, and he released her and doubled over in pain. The young Queen turned to run back the way she had come, but one of the sailors grabbed her arm and lurched her back. Her other arm was captured as well, and one of them slammed a hand roughly over her mouth so she couldn't cry out. The one who had spoken first advanced upon her with a glare that was a chilling mixture of lust and anger. “There's no getting away from us now, girlie,” he said. “You're ours now, for as long as we wish to have you.”
Hatshepsut gulped and closed her eyes. They held her so firmly that she couldn't even struggle. Why had she left the safety of her sedan chair? If she had not longed for a bit of stolen freedom, she wouldn't be in this predicament. As it was, she doubted she would live to see the morrow, and if she did …. she would wish she was dead.
It was the shawl that inspired her.
She had found it draped across a low branch of a tree in the gardens, a worn, tattered thing that was more gray than white. How it had gotten into the garden Hatshepsut had no idea. Maybe it belonged to a slave who had sneaked out of the palace for a secret rendezvous. Or perhaps it had been discarded by one of the petitioners who had come to have a dispute mediated by the Queen. There had been a session that morning in the throne room and she had sat by her mother as she made a decision in each case.
Hatshepsut had impulsively taken the shawl to her room and placed it in the bottom of one of the chests that held her clothes. As the days wore on, she concocted a plan as to how she might use it. She had always been curious about the stalls in the Grand Souk and had wondered what it would be like to simply stroll around and browse like the commoners and nobles that frequented it. Actually walking among her people might also tell her more about them, so that she would have more insight into their lives and what they wanted and needed. It would be a little adventure.
And so, one afternoon when she went to the Souk to distribute alms to the poor, she kept the curtains on her sedan chair covered as her servants and retainers handed out food and coins. After unfastening the jeweled brooch that held her sheer filmy kalisaris in place, Hatshepsut took it off as well as all of her jewelry. Beneath it, she wore a simple linen sheath which wouldn't look out of place in the Souk even though it was made of very fine fabric. She had been sitting on the old shawl so nobody would see it and she pulled it out from under her and wrapped it around her shoulders, arranging it so that it covered her hair and left her face in shadow.
She had instructed the bearers to set the sedan chair down in front of a building so that she could part the curtains and slip out unobtrusively. Hiding herself in the crowd, Hatshepsut watched her servants doling out charity for a few moments. Everything seemed surreal from her forbidden point of view. Soon, though, she was happily perusing the merchandise available, going from stall to stall and listening to the conversations around her. She knew she couldn't stay away very long and determined to make the most of the time she had.
Stopping at a food stall, she bought a pasty that smelled delicious. Unfortunately, it was a bit too greasy for her and she fed it to a cat who had appeared from behind the stall to rub against her legs. It was obvious that the little feline had recently had kittens and the young Queen decided to follow it to make sure that the babies were in a safe place. If not, she would take them home with her. Cats, were, after all, sacred animals.
She had not been tracking it long when a menacing shadow fell over her and she found herself staring at a broad chest covered with a rather grimy tunic that reeked of salt and sweat. “Well, well, what have we here?” a gruff voice barked in Greek, and Hatshepsut looked up into a rough bearded face with small mean eyes and a nose that had been broken more than once.
Fear clutched her heart and she reached up to pull her shawl further over her face with her free hand. A second man grabbed her hand and studied it. “And she ain't no whore, neither,” he said. His head was as bald as an Egyptian’s but much lighter in tone. It gleamed in the light of the sun. “Looks like she ain't done a day of work in her life. We got us a noblewoman, here, fellas.”
Two more unsavory characters lurked behind her. The air smelled like salt and fish and she realized that she had followed the cat away from the Souk and towards the docks. There were no other people around but the four men ... who were probably sailors or even pirates ... and herself. Screaming would do no good here and they probably wouldn't care that she was the Queen of Egypt. In fact, if she revealed her identity, they might try to either kidnap or kill her. “It looks like our lucky day,” one of the others said. He leaned down to Hatshepsut's level and favored her with a lewd grin made all the more frightening by the absence of about half his teeth. His breath smelled like a chamber pot. “C'mere, love, and give me a kiss.”
The second man guffawed so loudly it made her jump. “I want more from her than just a kiss.” He grabbed her from behind and turned her around to face him. Her heart pounded in terror and she could think of nothing else but getting away. Instinctively, she stepped down hard on his foot, and when he yelped and let her go, she leapt of the way. “A lively one!” the third sailor exclaimed. She whirled around as as lunged at her and barely missed being grabbed by his meaty hands.
The one who had not yet spoken caught her before she could run. He pinned her hands to her sides and brought his mouth close to hers. Hatshepsut kneed him hard in the groin, and he released her and doubled over in pain. The young Queen turned to run back the way she had come, but one of the sailors grabbed her arm and lurched her back. Her other arm was captured as well, and one of them slammed a hand roughly over her mouth so she couldn't cry out. The one who had spoken first advanced upon her with a glare that was a chilling mixture of lust and anger. “There's no getting away from us now, girlie,” he said. “You're ours now, for as long as we wish to have you.”
Hatshepsut gulped and closed her eyes. They held her so firmly that she couldn't even struggle. Why had she left the safety of her sedan chair? If she had not longed for a bit of stolen freedom, she wouldn't be in this predicament. As it was, she doubted she would live to see the morrow, and if she did …. she would wish she was dead.
It was hot. Baking hot. Meltingly hot. So hot that the wax seal on the scroll his scribe held dripped onto the slats of the ship’s middeck. Bianor looked down at the red, gleaming globs and then back at the captain. Lukos arched a dark brown at him and glanced down at the wax at his scribe’s feet. “You going to clean that up or let it ruin the wood?” he asked in a flat tone.
Bianor glared at him as beads of sweat rolled down the withered crevices of his haggard face. “I think this deck has seen worse than a little bit of wax,” he huffed, not bothering to hide the indignation. With a thin hand, he wiped at his wet brow and hoped that bowing up a little bit might be enough to convince the captain not to make an old man bend over just to clean up a tiny bit of wax. The tiny bit of wax that kept dripping wherever Bianor moved the scroll in his other hand.
“Clean it up now or I’ll make you scrape it up with your teeth by tonight,” Lukos snatched the scroll away from him and went to go put it on the table in his room. He kept his palm under the scroll to catch the occasional bits of wax that dripped down as he crossed the middeck and drummed down the stairs into the hold. A turn to his immediate right and then back brought him to a short, dark hallway, at the end of which was his cabin. He managed to open the door with his elbow and shouldered his way inside.
It was hot in here too. A bit like an oven and humid on top of it. As soon as he got the scroll onto a bit of wasted papyrus on the table, he pulled at his shirt sticking to his chest. Egypt was a wonderful place for trade and picking up slaves but Zeus above was it a horrible climate. The constant, glaring sun shining on the nile, rendering the whole river gold and blinding in the noon day meant that he was doing very little until closer to evening, when the temperature dropped to a tolerable level. The scroll was supposed to be for a man he intended to meet later to discuss a particular kind of slave but if the wax was going to melt, he didn’t think that the man wanted to come out of the cool interior of his house anymore than Lukos wanted to walk all the way there and meet him.
Shuffling feet resounded outside the door with hollow thuds as Bianor slowly made his way down the stairs and into the interior of the hold. The old man was giving up too and going back to his work area in the dark of the ship where it was cooler. Lukos glared at the scroll and wished that he could do the same but it was too hot in here to even pretend to chart their course back home. His cheeks were red and he ran his fingers through his dark hair to get it out of his face.
Lukos didn’t want to stay in the stifling heat of the room any longer. Even on deck under the sun was better than this. At least there was a breeze. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms and trudged back up the stairs. The first thing he did was check to ensure Bianor had obeyed. There was no wax. At least there was that. Expending the energy to fly down the stairs and scare the scribe into submission was too much work even thinking about it. Bianor’s thoughts must have been along the same line, giving more obedience than usual.
All at once, there was a ruckus erupting on the docks. He glanced over to see the hulking form of his first mate, Arktos, carrying the form of a flailing woman over his meaty shoulder. Three men flanked him but Arktos was a giant among mortals. At seven feet tall, he would have been impressive even without his mean mug face and shiny bald head. His skin was dark, like the rest of the pirates, though in Egypt, they stood out as pale even though they were much too tan for the liking of normal Greeks.
Lukos crossed to the railing and watched without comment as Arktos stumped up the gangway, still keeping the woman hostage over his shoulder. Without needing to ask, Lukos could see immediately that this wasn’t some whore than his first mate had taken a fancy to. The fine, nearly sheer linen of the woman’s apparel gave her away as noble stock, though what she was doing with such a head covering, who could say. That didn’t fit at all.
The heat was partially forgotten as Arktos unceremoniously dumped the woman on the deck with a hollow thud and looked proudly from the captain to the woman. “Look what I found to play with,” he boomed.
Lukos squatted down and reached for her shawl so that he could have a better look. He wasn’t going to inform Arktos that his new toy would have to go back to where he found it. They couldn’t afford to piss off the noble class here at the moment. They needed the money that slave trading brought them a little too much.
“What little mouse is this?” Lukos asked in accented Coptic, rather than Greek. He could speak fairly fluently but not all of the rest of his crew could and Arktos couldn’t understand anything any Egyptain said to him. The woman looked to be small and fragile, though he couldn't see her face at the moment. Once he had the shawl off, he'd be able to better see what they were supposed to be 'playing' with. It was a shame. He'd like to let Arktos keep his plaything but, alas, business first.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was hot. Baking hot. Meltingly hot. So hot that the wax seal on the scroll his scribe held dripped onto the slats of the ship’s middeck. Bianor looked down at the red, gleaming globs and then back at the captain. Lukos arched a dark brown at him and glanced down at the wax at his scribe’s feet. “You going to clean that up or let it ruin the wood?” he asked in a flat tone.
Bianor glared at him as beads of sweat rolled down the withered crevices of his haggard face. “I think this deck has seen worse than a little bit of wax,” he huffed, not bothering to hide the indignation. With a thin hand, he wiped at his wet brow and hoped that bowing up a little bit might be enough to convince the captain not to make an old man bend over just to clean up a tiny bit of wax. The tiny bit of wax that kept dripping wherever Bianor moved the scroll in his other hand.
“Clean it up now or I’ll make you scrape it up with your teeth by tonight,” Lukos snatched the scroll away from him and went to go put it on the table in his room. He kept his palm under the scroll to catch the occasional bits of wax that dripped down as he crossed the middeck and drummed down the stairs into the hold. A turn to his immediate right and then back brought him to a short, dark hallway, at the end of which was his cabin. He managed to open the door with his elbow and shouldered his way inside.
It was hot in here too. A bit like an oven and humid on top of it. As soon as he got the scroll onto a bit of wasted papyrus on the table, he pulled at his shirt sticking to his chest. Egypt was a wonderful place for trade and picking up slaves but Zeus above was it a horrible climate. The constant, glaring sun shining on the nile, rendering the whole river gold and blinding in the noon day meant that he was doing very little until closer to evening, when the temperature dropped to a tolerable level. The scroll was supposed to be for a man he intended to meet later to discuss a particular kind of slave but if the wax was going to melt, he didn’t think that the man wanted to come out of the cool interior of his house anymore than Lukos wanted to walk all the way there and meet him.
Shuffling feet resounded outside the door with hollow thuds as Bianor slowly made his way down the stairs and into the interior of the hold. The old man was giving up too and going back to his work area in the dark of the ship where it was cooler. Lukos glared at the scroll and wished that he could do the same but it was too hot in here to even pretend to chart their course back home. His cheeks were red and he ran his fingers through his dark hair to get it out of his face.
Lukos didn’t want to stay in the stifling heat of the room any longer. Even on deck under the sun was better than this. At least there was a breeze. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms and trudged back up the stairs. The first thing he did was check to ensure Bianor had obeyed. There was no wax. At least there was that. Expending the energy to fly down the stairs and scare the scribe into submission was too much work even thinking about it. Bianor’s thoughts must have been along the same line, giving more obedience than usual.
All at once, there was a ruckus erupting on the docks. He glanced over to see the hulking form of his first mate, Arktos, carrying the form of a flailing woman over his meaty shoulder. Three men flanked him but Arktos was a giant among mortals. At seven feet tall, he would have been impressive even without his mean mug face and shiny bald head. His skin was dark, like the rest of the pirates, though in Egypt, they stood out as pale even though they were much too tan for the liking of normal Greeks.
Lukos crossed to the railing and watched without comment as Arktos stumped up the gangway, still keeping the woman hostage over his shoulder. Without needing to ask, Lukos could see immediately that this wasn’t some whore than his first mate had taken a fancy to. The fine, nearly sheer linen of the woman’s apparel gave her away as noble stock, though what she was doing with such a head covering, who could say. That didn’t fit at all.
The heat was partially forgotten as Arktos unceremoniously dumped the woman on the deck with a hollow thud and looked proudly from the captain to the woman. “Look what I found to play with,” he boomed.
Lukos squatted down and reached for her shawl so that he could have a better look. He wasn’t going to inform Arktos that his new toy would have to go back to where he found it. They couldn’t afford to piss off the noble class here at the moment. They needed the money that slave trading brought them a little too much.
“What little mouse is this?” Lukos asked in accented Coptic, rather than Greek. He could speak fairly fluently but not all of the rest of his crew could and Arktos couldn’t understand anything any Egyptain said to him. The woman looked to be small and fragile, though he couldn't see her face at the moment. Once he had the shawl off, he'd be able to better see what they were supposed to be 'playing' with. It was a shame. He'd like to let Arktos keep his plaything but, alas, business first.
It was hot. Baking hot. Meltingly hot. So hot that the wax seal on the scroll his scribe held dripped onto the slats of the ship’s middeck. Bianor looked down at the red, gleaming globs and then back at the captain. Lukos arched a dark brown at him and glanced down at the wax at his scribe’s feet. “You going to clean that up or let it ruin the wood?” he asked in a flat tone.
Bianor glared at him as beads of sweat rolled down the withered crevices of his haggard face. “I think this deck has seen worse than a little bit of wax,” he huffed, not bothering to hide the indignation. With a thin hand, he wiped at his wet brow and hoped that bowing up a little bit might be enough to convince the captain not to make an old man bend over just to clean up a tiny bit of wax. The tiny bit of wax that kept dripping wherever Bianor moved the scroll in his other hand.
“Clean it up now or I’ll make you scrape it up with your teeth by tonight,” Lukos snatched the scroll away from him and went to go put it on the table in his room. He kept his palm under the scroll to catch the occasional bits of wax that dripped down as he crossed the middeck and drummed down the stairs into the hold. A turn to his immediate right and then back brought him to a short, dark hallway, at the end of which was his cabin. He managed to open the door with his elbow and shouldered his way inside.
It was hot in here too. A bit like an oven and humid on top of it. As soon as he got the scroll onto a bit of wasted papyrus on the table, he pulled at his shirt sticking to his chest. Egypt was a wonderful place for trade and picking up slaves but Zeus above was it a horrible climate. The constant, glaring sun shining on the nile, rendering the whole river gold and blinding in the noon day meant that he was doing very little until closer to evening, when the temperature dropped to a tolerable level. The scroll was supposed to be for a man he intended to meet later to discuss a particular kind of slave but if the wax was going to melt, he didn’t think that the man wanted to come out of the cool interior of his house anymore than Lukos wanted to walk all the way there and meet him.
Shuffling feet resounded outside the door with hollow thuds as Bianor slowly made his way down the stairs and into the interior of the hold. The old man was giving up too and going back to his work area in the dark of the ship where it was cooler. Lukos glared at the scroll and wished that he could do the same but it was too hot in here to even pretend to chart their course back home. His cheeks were red and he ran his fingers through his dark hair to get it out of his face.
Lukos didn’t want to stay in the stifling heat of the room any longer. Even on deck under the sun was better than this. At least there was a breeze. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms and trudged back up the stairs. The first thing he did was check to ensure Bianor had obeyed. There was no wax. At least there was that. Expending the energy to fly down the stairs and scare the scribe into submission was too much work even thinking about it. Bianor’s thoughts must have been along the same line, giving more obedience than usual.
All at once, there was a ruckus erupting on the docks. He glanced over to see the hulking form of his first mate, Arktos, carrying the form of a flailing woman over his meaty shoulder. Three men flanked him but Arktos was a giant among mortals. At seven feet tall, he would have been impressive even without his mean mug face and shiny bald head. His skin was dark, like the rest of the pirates, though in Egypt, they stood out as pale even though they were much too tan for the liking of normal Greeks.
Lukos crossed to the railing and watched without comment as Arktos stumped up the gangway, still keeping the woman hostage over his shoulder. Without needing to ask, Lukos could see immediately that this wasn’t some whore than his first mate had taken a fancy to. The fine, nearly sheer linen of the woman’s apparel gave her away as noble stock, though what she was doing with such a head covering, who could say. That didn’t fit at all.
The heat was partially forgotten as Arktos unceremoniously dumped the woman on the deck with a hollow thud and looked proudly from the captain to the woman. “Look what I found to play with,” he boomed.
Lukos squatted down and reached for her shawl so that he could have a better look. He wasn’t going to inform Arktos that his new toy would have to go back to where he found it. They couldn’t afford to piss off the noble class here at the moment. They needed the money that slave trading brought them a little too much.
“What little mouse is this?” Lukos asked in accented Coptic, rather than Greek. He could speak fairly fluently but not all of the rest of his crew could and Arktos couldn’t understand anything any Egyptain said to him. The woman looked to be small and fragile, though he couldn't see her face at the moment. Once he had the shawl off, he'd be able to better see what they were supposed to be 'playing' with. It was a shame. He'd like to let Arktos keep his plaything but, alas, business first.
With her mouth covered and her body restrained, Hatshepsut could do nothing but quake inside as the four sailors discussed what to do with her. The sweat from her captor's body was beginning to seep into her thin shift and his breath was so foul she feared she might retch. The hand clasped over her mouth was dirty and smelled like he had wiped his backside with it. Maybe he had. If she made it out of this alive, she would probably fall ill from all the filth. She needed a bath. Even a dip in the Nile would do.
If I don't get back to my sedan chair soon, someone is going to notice that I'm gone. She assumed that because she left her jewelry and kalisaris behind, her retainers would know what she had done and cover for her until she returned. She had mentioned that she wished she could walk incognito among her people and see how they lived a few times and they had discussed how fun it would be. Nobody probably thought she would actually go through with it, though, as she had a reputation for being demure and not fond of adventure.
Some of the guards would most likely search for her, but would they think to look so close to the docks? Most horrifying of all, would they make it in time? The men … whom Hatshepsut now believed were pirates … were talking about how much coin a fine girl like her would sell for. If she was taken to some foreign shore and sold at a slave market, she would never be found. In Greece, it was possible that somebody would recognize her. And then what? Egypt would declare war because Greece had kidnapped their Queen. Even if she was brought back, she would be ruined and lose the respect she had worked so hard to gain.
Her imagination was running away with her again, and she tried to calm herself, though her terror grew with each passing second. Even if she could get away, she would not be able to run fast enough. They would overtake her easily. Maybe she could reason with them without giving away her identity, promise them a reward for returning her to the souk. They had already joked that she couldn't understand a word they said. Perhaps hearing her speak Greek would make them think that she was well-educated and could provide what she promised. No, then they would decide to hold her for ransom, and that too, might start a war.
And so Hatshepsut remained silent, even when she was transferred into the grasp of the tall bald man and swung over his shoulder. Apparently they had decided to show her to their captain. How would she be able to escape from a ship full of disreputable pirates? She tried her best to remain motionless so that they would think she had fainted and abandon her, but the farther they carried her, the more panicked she became, kicking her feet and pounding the man's broad back with her fists. He just gripped her tighter and laughed at her struggles. The others remarked about how feisty she would be in bed. She wanted to scream, but instead she sneezed at the dust kicked up by her abductor's boots.
From her inverted position, all she could see was the ground which rapidly changed from sand to road. A cacophony of sound assaulted her ears … men calling to each other, the creaking of wagon wheels and items being hoisted up and down, and even the cries of frightened animals. She smelled salt and fish and sweat and fear. Eventually, she was carried up a gangway, and as soon as her captor stepped upon the deck, Hatshepshut could feel it undulate beneath her.
Without any warning, the sailor dropped her. She landed on her backside with an undignified thud, her sheath bunched up around her knees. She found herself staring at a pair of boots. Their owner knelt beside her and reached for her shawl. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. Hatshepsut immediately pulled it closer around her head. He spoke in rather good Coptic, which surprised her.
She rose gracefully to her feet and stared down at him. "I am not a mouse and I'm nobody's plaything!" she snapped indignantly in fluent, lightly accented Greek. Perhaps she would surprise him as well. "You should keep better control of your crew, sir, and prevent them from snatching innocent young women from the souk. Rectify their mistake and let me go at once! If you don't, there will be consequences!"
Oops. She probably shouldn't have said that last part, but it was out now and she couldn't draw her careless words back between her lips.
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With her mouth covered and her body restrained, Hatshepsut could do nothing but quake inside as the four sailors discussed what to do with her. The sweat from her captor's body was beginning to seep into her thin shift and his breath was so foul she feared she might retch. The hand clasped over her mouth was dirty and smelled like he had wiped his backside with it. Maybe he had. If she made it out of this alive, she would probably fall ill from all the filth. She needed a bath. Even a dip in the Nile would do.
If I don't get back to my sedan chair soon, someone is going to notice that I'm gone. She assumed that because she left her jewelry and kalisaris behind, her retainers would know what she had done and cover for her until she returned. She had mentioned that she wished she could walk incognito among her people and see how they lived a few times and they had discussed how fun it would be. Nobody probably thought she would actually go through with it, though, as she had a reputation for being demure and not fond of adventure.
Some of the guards would most likely search for her, but would they think to look so close to the docks? Most horrifying of all, would they make it in time? The men … whom Hatshepsut now believed were pirates … were talking about how much coin a fine girl like her would sell for. If she was taken to some foreign shore and sold at a slave market, she would never be found. In Greece, it was possible that somebody would recognize her. And then what? Egypt would declare war because Greece had kidnapped their Queen. Even if she was brought back, she would be ruined and lose the respect she had worked so hard to gain.
Her imagination was running away with her again, and she tried to calm herself, though her terror grew with each passing second. Even if she could get away, she would not be able to run fast enough. They would overtake her easily. Maybe she could reason with them without giving away her identity, promise them a reward for returning her to the souk. They had already joked that she couldn't understand a word they said. Perhaps hearing her speak Greek would make them think that she was well-educated and could provide what she promised. No, then they would decide to hold her for ransom, and that too, might start a war.
And so Hatshepsut remained silent, even when she was transferred into the grasp of the tall bald man and swung over his shoulder. Apparently they had decided to show her to their captain. How would she be able to escape from a ship full of disreputable pirates? She tried her best to remain motionless so that they would think she had fainted and abandon her, but the farther they carried her, the more panicked she became, kicking her feet and pounding the man's broad back with her fists. He just gripped her tighter and laughed at her struggles. The others remarked about how feisty she would be in bed. She wanted to scream, but instead she sneezed at the dust kicked up by her abductor's boots.
From her inverted position, all she could see was the ground which rapidly changed from sand to road. A cacophony of sound assaulted her ears … men calling to each other, the creaking of wagon wheels and items being hoisted up and down, and even the cries of frightened animals. She smelled salt and fish and sweat and fear. Eventually, she was carried up a gangway, and as soon as her captor stepped upon the deck, Hatshepshut could feel it undulate beneath her.
Without any warning, the sailor dropped her. She landed on her backside with an undignified thud, her sheath bunched up around her knees. She found herself staring at a pair of boots. Their owner knelt beside her and reached for her shawl. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. Hatshepsut immediately pulled it closer around her head. He spoke in rather good Coptic, which surprised her.
She rose gracefully to her feet and stared down at him. "I am not a mouse and I'm nobody's plaything!" she snapped indignantly in fluent, lightly accented Greek. Perhaps she would surprise him as well. "You should keep better control of your crew, sir, and prevent them from snatching innocent young women from the souk. Rectify their mistake and let me go at once! If you don't, there will be consequences!"
Oops. She probably shouldn't have said that last part, but it was out now and she couldn't draw her careless words back between her lips.
With her mouth covered and her body restrained, Hatshepsut could do nothing but quake inside as the four sailors discussed what to do with her. The sweat from her captor's body was beginning to seep into her thin shift and his breath was so foul she feared she might retch. The hand clasped over her mouth was dirty and smelled like he had wiped his backside with it. Maybe he had. If she made it out of this alive, she would probably fall ill from all the filth. She needed a bath. Even a dip in the Nile would do.
If I don't get back to my sedan chair soon, someone is going to notice that I'm gone. She assumed that because she left her jewelry and kalisaris behind, her retainers would know what she had done and cover for her until she returned. She had mentioned that she wished she could walk incognito among her people and see how they lived a few times and they had discussed how fun it would be. Nobody probably thought she would actually go through with it, though, as she had a reputation for being demure and not fond of adventure.
Some of the guards would most likely search for her, but would they think to look so close to the docks? Most horrifying of all, would they make it in time? The men … whom Hatshepsut now believed were pirates … were talking about how much coin a fine girl like her would sell for. If she was taken to some foreign shore and sold at a slave market, she would never be found. In Greece, it was possible that somebody would recognize her. And then what? Egypt would declare war because Greece had kidnapped their Queen. Even if she was brought back, she would be ruined and lose the respect she had worked so hard to gain.
Her imagination was running away with her again, and she tried to calm herself, though her terror grew with each passing second. Even if she could get away, she would not be able to run fast enough. They would overtake her easily. Maybe she could reason with them without giving away her identity, promise them a reward for returning her to the souk. They had already joked that she couldn't understand a word they said. Perhaps hearing her speak Greek would make them think that she was well-educated and could provide what she promised. No, then they would decide to hold her for ransom, and that too, might start a war.
And so Hatshepsut remained silent, even when she was transferred into the grasp of the tall bald man and swung over his shoulder. Apparently they had decided to show her to their captain. How would she be able to escape from a ship full of disreputable pirates? She tried her best to remain motionless so that they would think she had fainted and abandon her, but the farther they carried her, the more panicked she became, kicking her feet and pounding the man's broad back with her fists. He just gripped her tighter and laughed at her struggles. The others remarked about how feisty she would be in bed. She wanted to scream, but instead she sneezed at the dust kicked up by her abductor's boots.
From her inverted position, all she could see was the ground which rapidly changed from sand to road. A cacophony of sound assaulted her ears … men calling to each other, the creaking of wagon wheels and items being hoisted up and down, and even the cries of frightened animals. She smelled salt and fish and sweat and fear. Eventually, she was carried up a gangway, and as soon as her captor stepped upon the deck, Hatshepshut could feel it undulate beneath her.
Without any warning, the sailor dropped her. She landed on her backside with an undignified thud, her sheath bunched up around her knees. She found herself staring at a pair of boots. Their owner knelt beside her and reached for her shawl. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. Hatshepsut immediately pulled it closer around her head. He spoke in rather good Coptic, which surprised her.
She rose gracefully to her feet and stared down at him. "I am not a mouse and I'm nobody's plaything!" she snapped indignantly in fluent, lightly accented Greek. Perhaps she would surprise him as well. "You should keep better control of your crew, sir, and prevent them from snatching innocent young women from the souk. Rectify their mistake and let me go at once! If you don't, there will be consequences!"
Oops. She probably shouldn't have said that last part, but it was out now and she couldn't draw her careless words back between her lips.
He remained in his squatting position as she stood. His gaze traveled up her body and a slow, indulgent smile curled his lips as she spit her words in Greek. At her insistence that she was nobody’s play thing, Lukos finally also rose to his feet, his dark eyes traveling her every inch of the way until he stood over her, and entire foot taller than she was. He’d called her a mouse before but he’d have done it again now because the description fit her perfectly. She was so tiny and cute.
His smile broke into a grin as she demanded that he keep better control of his crew. He found himself wanting to put hands on her and cup her little face like he might have if she was going into a cage. Then it didn’t matter at all how he treated her, as long as there were no marks. However, this one really was going to be let go again, so he had to tread a little more carefully than he normally liked to do. But she was triggering every instinct he had to just take her and do whatever he liked. The haughty ones were the ones he liked to play with.
Her threat made him give her a mock shudder of fear. “What are you going to do, princess? Have me whipped?” This he said in Coptic, refusing to speak in his own native tongue to her. The ones of his crew who understood him laughed, while the others elbowed each other. They could tell by tone alone he’d said something snarky.
Having no idea that he had the queen of egypt on his ship, he thought the insult he’d flung at her a little funny. He then put his hands behind his back and moved around her, walking in a complete circle. Gods he wanted to keep her. She’d make someone a very nice little slave. Alas…
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m not in port to take on slaves at the moment.” Shooting Arktos a look, here, this one actually serious. His first mate better not pull this again, and especially with a high born lady. “I’m actually here to sell them. I’ll let you go and I’ll walk you back. How about that? Make sure no other idiot, makes the same mistake?” The word idiot was said in Greek so that Arktos would understand.
Arktos gave an offended ‘humph,’ and crossed his meaty arms over his barrel chest.
“Don’t have to be so rude, Captain,” he muttered. “I just wanted a bit of fun.”
“Go get a real whore then,” Lukos snapped. He gestured to Hatchepsut’s clothes. “If you’d bothered to look, you’d see that you snagged a high born woman.” Sighing through his nose, he eyed Hatchepsut again. Switching back to Coptic, he said, “Where am I taking you?”
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He remained in his squatting position as she stood. His gaze traveled up her body and a slow, indulgent smile curled his lips as she spit her words in Greek. At her insistence that she was nobody’s play thing, Lukos finally also rose to his feet, his dark eyes traveling her every inch of the way until he stood over her, and entire foot taller than she was. He’d called her a mouse before but he’d have done it again now because the description fit her perfectly. She was so tiny and cute.
His smile broke into a grin as she demanded that he keep better control of his crew. He found himself wanting to put hands on her and cup her little face like he might have if she was going into a cage. Then it didn’t matter at all how he treated her, as long as there were no marks. However, this one really was going to be let go again, so he had to tread a little more carefully than he normally liked to do. But she was triggering every instinct he had to just take her and do whatever he liked. The haughty ones were the ones he liked to play with.
Her threat made him give her a mock shudder of fear. “What are you going to do, princess? Have me whipped?” This he said in Coptic, refusing to speak in his own native tongue to her. The ones of his crew who understood him laughed, while the others elbowed each other. They could tell by tone alone he’d said something snarky.
Having no idea that he had the queen of egypt on his ship, he thought the insult he’d flung at her a little funny. He then put his hands behind his back and moved around her, walking in a complete circle. Gods he wanted to keep her. She’d make someone a very nice little slave. Alas…
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m not in port to take on slaves at the moment.” Shooting Arktos a look, here, this one actually serious. His first mate better not pull this again, and especially with a high born lady. “I’m actually here to sell them. I’ll let you go and I’ll walk you back. How about that? Make sure no other idiot, makes the same mistake?” The word idiot was said in Greek so that Arktos would understand.
Arktos gave an offended ‘humph,’ and crossed his meaty arms over his barrel chest.
“Don’t have to be so rude, Captain,” he muttered. “I just wanted a bit of fun.”
“Go get a real whore then,” Lukos snapped. He gestured to Hatchepsut’s clothes. “If you’d bothered to look, you’d see that you snagged a high born woman.” Sighing through his nose, he eyed Hatchepsut again. Switching back to Coptic, he said, “Where am I taking you?”
He remained in his squatting position as she stood. His gaze traveled up her body and a slow, indulgent smile curled his lips as she spit her words in Greek. At her insistence that she was nobody’s play thing, Lukos finally also rose to his feet, his dark eyes traveling her every inch of the way until he stood over her, and entire foot taller than she was. He’d called her a mouse before but he’d have done it again now because the description fit her perfectly. She was so tiny and cute.
His smile broke into a grin as she demanded that he keep better control of his crew. He found himself wanting to put hands on her and cup her little face like he might have if she was going into a cage. Then it didn’t matter at all how he treated her, as long as there were no marks. However, this one really was going to be let go again, so he had to tread a little more carefully than he normally liked to do. But she was triggering every instinct he had to just take her and do whatever he liked. The haughty ones were the ones he liked to play with.
Her threat made him give her a mock shudder of fear. “What are you going to do, princess? Have me whipped?” This he said in Coptic, refusing to speak in his own native tongue to her. The ones of his crew who understood him laughed, while the others elbowed each other. They could tell by tone alone he’d said something snarky.
Having no idea that he had the queen of egypt on his ship, he thought the insult he’d flung at her a little funny. He then put his hands behind his back and moved around her, walking in a complete circle. Gods he wanted to keep her. She’d make someone a very nice little slave. Alas…
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m not in port to take on slaves at the moment.” Shooting Arktos a look, here, this one actually serious. His first mate better not pull this again, and especially with a high born lady. “I’m actually here to sell them. I’ll let you go and I’ll walk you back. How about that? Make sure no other idiot, makes the same mistake?” The word idiot was said in Greek so that Arktos would understand.
Arktos gave an offended ‘humph,’ and crossed his meaty arms over his barrel chest.
“Don’t have to be so rude, Captain,” he muttered. “I just wanted a bit of fun.”
“Go get a real whore then,” Lukos snapped. He gestured to Hatchepsut’s clothes. “If you’d bothered to look, you’d see that you snagged a high born woman.” Sighing through his nose, he eyed Hatchepsut again. Switching back to Coptic, he said, “Where am I taking you?”
Standing over him and staring arrogantly down at him, Hatsehepsut finally felt as if she held the advantage, until she noticed the way his eyes roved over her. Her shift was made of such fine linen that it was nearly transparent and nothing much was left to the imagination. Why did she suddenly feel that her nubile young body was on display? Most wealthy Egyptian noblewomen dressed in a similar fashion, and she had always considered her attire completely normal. Men had appraised her in much the same way before, so why did she feel uncomfortable now?
There was something else too … a sense of excitement and expectation that shimmered pleasantly through her small form. It was not a strange sensation. She felt it often while in the presence of Osorsen, an anticipation of pleasure yet unknown. She would surrender herself to him completely,she knew, and soon. They had such little time to themselves and so far, they had never truly been alone. When the right opportunity presented itself, they would finally become one.
But why did she feel that way now, with this total stranger? She cursed her body's betrayal while enjoying the way it betrayed her. When the Captain stood, Hatshepsut found herself looking up at him and any advantage she thought she had gained was gone. He was about as tall as Osorsen and quite handsome, though she hated to admit it. Perhaps that was why her reaction to him was so strong. Had she been an impoverished common girl instead of Queen of Egypt, she might not have minded being abducted by him, as long as he kept his bald and beefy minion away from her.
But she was the Queen of Egypt and she was in love with someone else, someone who would never treat her the way this man did. His mocking shudder made her roll her eyes in the sarcastic manner only a teenager could pull off and she barely stopped herself from scoffing at his insulting taunt. I could not only have you whipped, she thought, but I could have you thrown into prison and you would never see the light of day again. I could even have you executed with a simple wave of my hand
She couldn't say any of that, though, nor did she want to punish him for a mistake on the part of a member of his crew. As long as he let her go. If he didn't, then what happened to him when she was rescued would be out of her control. The Council and her mother would decide on a proper sentence for kidnapping the Queen. “You'd be surprised what I could do to you,” was her cryptic comment. She wished she could slap every member of his crew for their derisive laughter. Hatshepsut did not like to be made fun of.
The Captain circled her then and she turned with him so that she was always looking straight at him. Was he assessing her value as a slave? Her indignation was replaced by a wave of terror, but she refused to show anything but arrogance in his presence. Even if he did try to cart her off, she would be found, though in truth, she knew that it was just as likely that she would disappear and spend the rest of her life in abject misery.
The breath she had not known she was holding whooshed out of her when he promised to let her go and to walk her back to the Souk to protect her from another attack. He was obviously not as stupid as the others for he recognized her as a highborn lady. Relieved, she nodded her assent. “I would like that very much,” she said. “I need to get back to the Grand Souk before I am missed. Your guidance will be appreciated. I have no idea which way to go.” The young Queen glared at the man who had brought her here. “I wasn't able to see much while being carried upside down.”
Pulling the tattered scarf further over her face, she turned around and strode imperiously down the gangplank and back onto the wharf. “Do you have a name?” she asked over her shoulder. “Or should I just call you 'Pirate?'”
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Standing over him and staring arrogantly down at him, Hatsehepsut finally felt as if she held the advantage, until she noticed the way his eyes roved over her. Her shift was made of such fine linen that it was nearly transparent and nothing much was left to the imagination. Why did she suddenly feel that her nubile young body was on display? Most wealthy Egyptian noblewomen dressed in a similar fashion, and she had always considered her attire completely normal. Men had appraised her in much the same way before, so why did she feel uncomfortable now?
There was something else too … a sense of excitement and expectation that shimmered pleasantly through her small form. It was not a strange sensation. She felt it often while in the presence of Osorsen, an anticipation of pleasure yet unknown. She would surrender herself to him completely,she knew, and soon. They had such little time to themselves and so far, they had never truly been alone. When the right opportunity presented itself, they would finally become one.
But why did she feel that way now, with this total stranger? She cursed her body's betrayal while enjoying the way it betrayed her. When the Captain stood, Hatshepsut found herself looking up at him and any advantage she thought she had gained was gone. He was about as tall as Osorsen and quite handsome, though she hated to admit it. Perhaps that was why her reaction to him was so strong. Had she been an impoverished common girl instead of Queen of Egypt, she might not have minded being abducted by him, as long as he kept his bald and beefy minion away from her.
But she was the Queen of Egypt and she was in love with someone else, someone who would never treat her the way this man did. His mocking shudder made her roll her eyes in the sarcastic manner only a teenager could pull off and she barely stopped herself from scoffing at his insulting taunt. I could not only have you whipped, she thought, but I could have you thrown into prison and you would never see the light of day again. I could even have you executed with a simple wave of my hand
She couldn't say any of that, though, nor did she want to punish him for a mistake on the part of a member of his crew. As long as he let her go. If he didn't, then what happened to him when she was rescued would be out of her control. The Council and her mother would decide on a proper sentence for kidnapping the Queen. “You'd be surprised what I could do to you,” was her cryptic comment. She wished she could slap every member of his crew for their derisive laughter. Hatshepsut did not like to be made fun of.
The Captain circled her then and she turned with him so that she was always looking straight at him. Was he assessing her value as a slave? Her indignation was replaced by a wave of terror, but she refused to show anything but arrogance in his presence. Even if he did try to cart her off, she would be found, though in truth, she knew that it was just as likely that she would disappear and spend the rest of her life in abject misery.
The breath she had not known she was holding whooshed out of her when he promised to let her go and to walk her back to the Souk to protect her from another attack. He was obviously not as stupid as the others for he recognized her as a highborn lady. Relieved, she nodded her assent. “I would like that very much,” she said. “I need to get back to the Grand Souk before I am missed. Your guidance will be appreciated. I have no idea which way to go.” The young Queen glared at the man who had brought her here. “I wasn't able to see much while being carried upside down.”
Pulling the tattered scarf further over her face, she turned around and strode imperiously down the gangplank and back onto the wharf. “Do you have a name?” she asked over her shoulder. “Or should I just call you 'Pirate?'”
Standing over him and staring arrogantly down at him, Hatsehepsut finally felt as if she held the advantage, until she noticed the way his eyes roved over her. Her shift was made of such fine linen that it was nearly transparent and nothing much was left to the imagination. Why did she suddenly feel that her nubile young body was on display? Most wealthy Egyptian noblewomen dressed in a similar fashion, and she had always considered her attire completely normal. Men had appraised her in much the same way before, so why did she feel uncomfortable now?
There was something else too … a sense of excitement and expectation that shimmered pleasantly through her small form. It was not a strange sensation. She felt it often while in the presence of Osorsen, an anticipation of pleasure yet unknown. She would surrender herself to him completely,she knew, and soon. They had such little time to themselves and so far, they had never truly been alone. When the right opportunity presented itself, they would finally become one.
But why did she feel that way now, with this total stranger? She cursed her body's betrayal while enjoying the way it betrayed her. When the Captain stood, Hatshepsut found herself looking up at him and any advantage she thought she had gained was gone. He was about as tall as Osorsen and quite handsome, though she hated to admit it. Perhaps that was why her reaction to him was so strong. Had she been an impoverished common girl instead of Queen of Egypt, she might not have minded being abducted by him, as long as he kept his bald and beefy minion away from her.
But she was the Queen of Egypt and she was in love with someone else, someone who would never treat her the way this man did. His mocking shudder made her roll her eyes in the sarcastic manner only a teenager could pull off and she barely stopped herself from scoffing at his insulting taunt. I could not only have you whipped, she thought, but I could have you thrown into prison and you would never see the light of day again. I could even have you executed with a simple wave of my hand
She couldn't say any of that, though, nor did she want to punish him for a mistake on the part of a member of his crew. As long as he let her go. If he didn't, then what happened to him when she was rescued would be out of her control. The Council and her mother would decide on a proper sentence for kidnapping the Queen. “You'd be surprised what I could do to you,” was her cryptic comment. She wished she could slap every member of his crew for their derisive laughter. Hatshepsut did not like to be made fun of.
The Captain circled her then and she turned with him so that she was always looking straight at him. Was he assessing her value as a slave? Her indignation was replaced by a wave of terror, but she refused to show anything but arrogance in his presence. Even if he did try to cart her off, she would be found, though in truth, she knew that it was just as likely that she would disappear and spend the rest of her life in abject misery.
The breath she had not known she was holding whooshed out of her when he promised to let her go and to walk her back to the Souk to protect her from another attack. He was obviously not as stupid as the others for he recognized her as a highborn lady. Relieved, she nodded her assent. “I would like that very much,” she said. “I need to get back to the Grand Souk before I am missed. Your guidance will be appreciated. I have no idea which way to go.” The young Queen glared at the man who had brought her here. “I wasn't able to see much while being carried upside down.”
Pulling the tattered scarf further over her face, she turned around and strode imperiously down the gangplank and back onto the wharf. “Do you have a name?” she asked over her shoulder. “Or should I just call you 'Pirate?'”
“You’d be surprised what I could do to you.”. Magic words. He grinned, deciding on the spot that he liked her. The way she looked at him like he was completely beneath her, and yet, he saw that hint of interest. Oh yes. They could have real fun if she was willing. He could well imagine what she could do to him but his thoughts didn’t extend in the direction hers did. There were ropes in this little fantasy but no one was in prison forever.
Sometimes, when little mistakes like this were made, and when he offered to return the woman to where she was supposed to be, he’d get a haughty answer in return that the woman could fend for herself. Clearly that was not usually the case or else the woman wouldn’t have ended up on his ship, harassed by his sailors, or otherwise inconvenienced in whatever way the mistake had happened. Then, there were times like this one, where the girl displayed both a commanding presence and the presence of mind to understand when she needed the help and when she didn’t. Women like this one were much more pleasant to deal with than the idiot ones who assumed they knew everything.
“The Grand Souk,” he echoed and then shot yet another look back at Arktos. They took someone from the Grand Souk? He and his first mate were going to have a little talk. Not that he actually cared who or what Arktos got up to. He only cared when it affected him personally. Which this had.
He was a little surprised to find her marching down the gangway but he followed her down easily enough. It was interesting to him that she recovered herself again with that ratty cloth. Inclining his head, he peered around it again so that he could see her face while she was speaking to him.
“I do have a name,” he said lightly, hands clasped behind his back as he went a little ahead of her to guide her back to where she should be. Though, admittedly they were taking the long way. He had no wish to return someone he found interesting so quickly. Her timeline wasn’t his timeline. He didn’t care a wit that she would be missed. Not like he would have if he’d known exactly what kind of death sentence he was now walking beside.
“Everyone has a name. If you were attempting to politely ask what my name is, it’s Lukos.” To bother her, he kept all of his speech up in coptic, just to give her that little prod in her haughty pride. “Of Magnemea, if you know where that is.” Which she likely wouldn’t unless she studied Greek geography and cared about a little nowhere mining province that no one ever had occasion to leave.
"And your name, pretty one?" He reached out and eased her veil back with a half smirk. "What do I call you?"
He walked them through a throng of people, but on the outskirts, so that they were skirting most of the passersby. Their path was taking them along the docks, past ships he knew and ships he didn't. The sun was baking hot and he wiped at the back of his neck as they went along, waiting for her answer.
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“You’d be surprised what I could do to you.”. Magic words. He grinned, deciding on the spot that he liked her. The way she looked at him like he was completely beneath her, and yet, he saw that hint of interest. Oh yes. They could have real fun if she was willing. He could well imagine what she could do to him but his thoughts didn’t extend in the direction hers did. There were ropes in this little fantasy but no one was in prison forever.
Sometimes, when little mistakes like this were made, and when he offered to return the woman to where she was supposed to be, he’d get a haughty answer in return that the woman could fend for herself. Clearly that was not usually the case or else the woman wouldn’t have ended up on his ship, harassed by his sailors, or otherwise inconvenienced in whatever way the mistake had happened. Then, there were times like this one, where the girl displayed both a commanding presence and the presence of mind to understand when she needed the help and when she didn’t. Women like this one were much more pleasant to deal with than the idiot ones who assumed they knew everything.
“The Grand Souk,” he echoed and then shot yet another look back at Arktos. They took someone from the Grand Souk? He and his first mate were going to have a little talk. Not that he actually cared who or what Arktos got up to. He only cared when it affected him personally. Which this had.
He was a little surprised to find her marching down the gangway but he followed her down easily enough. It was interesting to him that she recovered herself again with that ratty cloth. Inclining his head, he peered around it again so that he could see her face while she was speaking to him.
“I do have a name,” he said lightly, hands clasped behind his back as he went a little ahead of her to guide her back to where she should be. Though, admittedly they were taking the long way. He had no wish to return someone he found interesting so quickly. Her timeline wasn’t his timeline. He didn’t care a wit that she would be missed. Not like he would have if he’d known exactly what kind of death sentence he was now walking beside.
“Everyone has a name. If you were attempting to politely ask what my name is, it’s Lukos.” To bother her, he kept all of his speech up in coptic, just to give her that little prod in her haughty pride. “Of Magnemea, if you know where that is.” Which she likely wouldn’t unless she studied Greek geography and cared about a little nowhere mining province that no one ever had occasion to leave.
"And your name, pretty one?" He reached out and eased her veil back with a half smirk. "What do I call you?"
He walked them through a throng of people, but on the outskirts, so that they were skirting most of the passersby. Their path was taking them along the docks, past ships he knew and ships he didn't. The sun was baking hot and he wiped at the back of his neck as they went along, waiting for her answer.
“You’d be surprised what I could do to you.”. Magic words. He grinned, deciding on the spot that he liked her. The way she looked at him like he was completely beneath her, and yet, he saw that hint of interest. Oh yes. They could have real fun if she was willing. He could well imagine what she could do to him but his thoughts didn’t extend in the direction hers did. There were ropes in this little fantasy but no one was in prison forever.
Sometimes, when little mistakes like this were made, and when he offered to return the woman to where she was supposed to be, he’d get a haughty answer in return that the woman could fend for herself. Clearly that was not usually the case or else the woman wouldn’t have ended up on his ship, harassed by his sailors, or otherwise inconvenienced in whatever way the mistake had happened. Then, there were times like this one, where the girl displayed both a commanding presence and the presence of mind to understand when she needed the help and when she didn’t. Women like this one were much more pleasant to deal with than the idiot ones who assumed they knew everything.
“The Grand Souk,” he echoed and then shot yet another look back at Arktos. They took someone from the Grand Souk? He and his first mate were going to have a little talk. Not that he actually cared who or what Arktos got up to. He only cared when it affected him personally. Which this had.
He was a little surprised to find her marching down the gangway but he followed her down easily enough. It was interesting to him that she recovered herself again with that ratty cloth. Inclining his head, he peered around it again so that he could see her face while she was speaking to him.
“I do have a name,” he said lightly, hands clasped behind his back as he went a little ahead of her to guide her back to where she should be. Though, admittedly they were taking the long way. He had no wish to return someone he found interesting so quickly. Her timeline wasn’t his timeline. He didn’t care a wit that she would be missed. Not like he would have if he’d known exactly what kind of death sentence he was now walking beside.
“Everyone has a name. If you were attempting to politely ask what my name is, it’s Lukos.” To bother her, he kept all of his speech up in coptic, just to give her that little prod in her haughty pride. “Of Magnemea, if you know where that is.” Which she likely wouldn’t unless she studied Greek geography and cared about a little nowhere mining province that no one ever had occasion to leave.
"And your name, pretty one?" He reached out and eased her veil back with a half smirk. "What do I call you?"
He walked them through a throng of people, but on the outskirts, so that they were skirting most of the passersby. Their path was taking them along the docks, past ships he knew and ships he didn't. The sun was baking hot and he wiped at the back of his neck as they went along, waiting for her answer.
Why did he grin at her like that when she spoke of what she could do to him? Did the notion of being tortured, imprisoned for life, or even executed appeal to him? Hatshepsut was too naïve to recognize the innuendo in her own words and was utterly confused by his reaction. She spoke Greek fluently so she knew that she had not inadvertently said something else that had a completely different meaning.
She had to admit that she liked his smile. He was almost as handsome as her beloved Osorsen. She wouldn't be surprised if women begged to be taken as his slaves. Maybe she would have been one of them if she had not been born into royalty. The palace slaves were treated well and she assumed that those sold to other households were too. And, unlike many of the destitute, slaves always had clothes on their backs, food in the bellies, and a roof over their heads. Some of them voluntarily sold themselves into servitude for just that reason.
The intriguing pirate seemed surprised that she had been kidnapped from the Grand Souk. Actually, she had already left it when she was abducted but that was where she had started out. He also appeared especially irritated at her captor, whom she secretly named Baldy. Maybe he'll flog him for what he did to me. It is too bad that I won't be able to watch. I would enjoy it immensely.
As she expected, he followed her down the gangway and moved ahead of her, after trying to peer beneath the faded shawl that covered her face. Hatshepsut supposed that it didn't matter if she knew what she looked like. He probably wouldn't recognize the Queen of Egypt if she walked up and slapped him in the face. But when they neared the Souk, others would. She made too many public appearances to conceal her identity from her people.
Unfortunately, her taunt didn't have the desired effect on him. He thought her haughtiness humorous rather than annoying. “Lukos,” she repeated, but in Greek. If he was going to be stubborn and speak to her in her own language, then she was obstinate enough to return the favor and speak in his. Theirs was a strange conversation, to be sure. “No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?” Hatshepsut wasn't sure that he really was a pirate, but until he told her otherwise, she was going to call him one.
She smacked his hand when he tried to push back her tattered scarf. “My name is Khenemetneferhedjet.” She chose that name not only because it was long and nearly unpronounceable, but because of its meaning. Lukos would most likely never figure it out unless he spoke of her to a well-educated Egyptian long after she left his company. Khenemetneferhedjet was a title given to Egyptian Queens in the past and also the given name of at least three of them. She was, for her own amusement, telling him who she was without really telling him who she was.
Was he taking her in the right direction? She had not remembered viewing this much of the docks on the way to the ship, but she had hardly been able to see anything but ground while upside down and bouncing against Baldy's foully pungent back. Hatshepsut looked around her with interest, watching all of the activity taking place on and off the ships. Some of the vessels were large and majestic, while others were smaller and not as well taken care of. The same could be said of the people. There were men in immaculate linen kilts and embroidered chitons, and others wearing simple tunics or even extremely brief loincloths.
A sudden movement caught her eye, and Hatshepsut saw the same cat that she had been pursuing earlier sauntering in the opposite direction with a fat fish in its mouth. Grabbing Lukos' arm, she pointed it out to him. “That cat! I was following her when your crewmen grabbed me. She's recently had kittens and I wanted to make certain they were safe. Cats are sacred here, you know. Come, we must go after her!”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and began to stride in the cat's direction.
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Why did he grin at her like that when she spoke of what she could do to him? Did the notion of being tortured, imprisoned for life, or even executed appeal to him? Hatshepsut was too naïve to recognize the innuendo in her own words and was utterly confused by his reaction. She spoke Greek fluently so she knew that she had not inadvertently said something else that had a completely different meaning.
She had to admit that she liked his smile. He was almost as handsome as her beloved Osorsen. She wouldn't be surprised if women begged to be taken as his slaves. Maybe she would have been one of them if she had not been born into royalty. The palace slaves were treated well and she assumed that those sold to other households were too. And, unlike many of the destitute, slaves always had clothes on their backs, food in the bellies, and a roof over their heads. Some of them voluntarily sold themselves into servitude for just that reason.
The intriguing pirate seemed surprised that she had been kidnapped from the Grand Souk. Actually, she had already left it when she was abducted but that was where she had started out. He also appeared especially irritated at her captor, whom she secretly named Baldy. Maybe he'll flog him for what he did to me. It is too bad that I won't be able to watch. I would enjoy it immensely.
As she expected, he followed her down the gangway and moved ahead of her, after trying to peer beneath the faded shawl that covered her face. Hatshepsut supposed that it didn't matter if she knew what she looked like. He probably wouldn't recognize the Queen of Egypt if she walked up and slapped him in the face. But when they neared the Souk, others would. She made too many public appearances to conceal her identity from her people.
Unfortunately, her taunt didn't have the desired effect on him. He thought her haughtiness humorous rather than annoying. “Lukos,” she repeated, but in Greek. If he was going to be stubborn and speak to her in her own language, then she was obstinate enough to return the favor and speak in his. Theirs was a strange conversation, to be sure. “No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?” Hatshepsut wasn't sure that he really was a pirate, but until he told her otherwise, she was going to call him one.
She smacked his hand when he tried to push back her tattered scarf. “My name is Khenemetneferhedjet.” She chose that name not only because it was long and nearly unpronounceable, but because of its meaning. Lukos would most likely never figure it out unless he spoke of her to a well-educated Egyptian long after she left his company. Khenemetneferhedjet was a title given to Egyptian Queens in the past and also the given name of at least three of them. She was, for her own amusement, telling him who she was without really telling him who she was.
Was he taking her in the right direction? She had not remembered viewing this much of the docks on the way to the ship, but she had hardly been able to see anything but ground while upside down and bouncing against Baldy's foully pungent back. Hatshepsut looked around her with interest, watching all of the activity taking place on and off the ships. Some of the vessels were large and majestic, while others were smaller and not as well taken care of. The same could be said of the people. There were men in immaculate linen kilts and embroidered chitons, and others wearing simple tunics or even extremely brief loincloths.
A sudden movement caught her eye, and Hatshepsut saw the same cat that she had been pursuing earlier sauntering in the opposite direction with a fat fish in its mouth. Grabbing Lukos' arm, she pointed it out to him. “That cat! I was following her when your crewmen grabbed me. She's recently had kittens and I wanted to make certain they were safe. Cats are sacred here, you know. Come, we must go after her!”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and began to stride in the cat's direction.
Why did he grin at her like that when she spoke of what she could do to him? Did the notion of being tortured, imprisoned for life, or even executed appeal to him? Hatshepsut was too naïve to recognize the innuendo in her own words and was utterly confused by his reaction. She spoke Greek fluently so she knew that she had not inadvertently said something else that had a completely different meaning.
She had to admit that she liked his smile. He was almost as handsome as her beloved Osorsen. She wouldn't be surprised if women begged to be taken as his slaves. Maybe she would have been one of them if she had not been born into royalty. The palace slaves were treated well and she assumed that those sold to other households were too. And, unlike many of the destitute, slaves always had clothes on their backs, food in the bellies, and a roof over their heads. Some of them voluntarily sold themselves into servitude for just that reason.
The intriguing pirate seemed surprised that she had been kidnapped from the Grand Souk. Actually, she had already left it when she was abducted but that was where she had started out. He also appeared especially irritated at her captor, whom she secretly named Baldy. Maybe he'll flog him for what he did to me. It is too bad that I won't be able to watch. I would enjoy it immensely.
As she expected, he followed her down the gangway and moved ahead of her, after trying to peer beneath the faded shawl that covered her face. Hatshepsut supposed that it didn't matter if she knew what she looked like. He probably wouldn't recognize the Queen of Egypt if she walked up and slapped him in the face. But when they neared the Souk, others would. She made too many public appearances to conceal her identity from her people.
Unfortunately, her taunt didn't have the desired effect on him. He thought her haughtiness humorous rather than annoying. “Lukos,” she repeated, but in Greek. If he was going to be stubborn and speak to her in her own language, then she was obstinate enough to return the favor and speak in his. Theirs was a strange conversation, to be sure. “No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?” Hatshepsut wasn't sure that he really was a pirate, but until he told her otherwise, she was going to call him one.
She smacked his hand when he tried to push back her tattered scarf. “My name is Khenemetneferhedjet.” She chose that name not only because it was long and nearly unpronounceable, but because of its meaning. Lukos would most likely never figure it out unless he spoke of her to a well-educated Egyptian long after she left his company. Khenemetneferhedjet was a title given to Egyptian Queens in the past and also the given name of at least three of them. She was, for her own amusement, telling him who she was without really telling him who she was.
Was he taking her in the right direction? She had not remembered viewing this much of the docks on the way to the ship, but she had hardly been able to see anything but ground while upside down and bouncing against Baldy's foully pungent back. Hatshepsut looked around her with interest, watching all of the activity taking place on and off the ships. Some of the vessels were large and majestic, while others were smaller and not as well taken care of. The same could be said of the people. There were men in immaculate linen kilts and embroidered chitons, and others wearing simple tunics or even extremely brief loincloths.
A sudden movement caught her eye, and Hatshepsut saw the same cat that she had been pursuing earlier sauntering in the opposite direction with a fat fish in its mouth. Grabbing Lukos' arm, she pointed it out to him. “That cat! I was following her when your crewmen grabbed me. She's recently had kittens and I wanted to make certain they were safe. Cats are sacred here, you know. Come, we must go after her!”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and began to stride in the cat's direction.
He had every intention of keeping up this odd conversation between them because he had decided that he was more stubborn than she was. Sure. He could have spoken to her in Greek, like she seemed inclined to do, but he didn’t want to. What he wanted was for her to bend to him and admit that he was able to speak to her as well as any Egyptian could. Nevermind that he had an accent. That shouldn’t matter. It was really the haughty way that she insisted she was better.
Nothing verbal, of course, to that affect. She’d have been a simpleton to have said something like that while in his custody on his ship, but in her mannerisms. The way she’d looked around at all of them as though they were vile and lower than she was. Money was the only difference, in his opinion. And inbreeding. The upper classes tended to do that.
“No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?”
“No, it’s a…” he paused, struggling for the word in her language and refusing to use it in his. But, in the end, he did use Greek because he’d reached a part of the conversation that held words that just never came up in his day to day conversations with people. So he finally switched to Greek; albeit, unhappily. “It’s a mining province. Mostly slaves and people like that. No one really leaves…”
When she smacked his hand and spewed out some gods forsaken unpronounceable name, he laughed at her and shook his head. No way was he attempting that. She was right that he didn’t know what it meant and never even thought to try. After all, it was so inconceivable, her real identity, that his mind never, ever strayed in that direction. He couldn’t read her thoughts or her amusement on the name, but he would have been amused at her abrupt confusion about their route.
His own little private joke.
Noticing her finally catching on that she wasn’t really where she’d come from, he said nothing. Merely smirked at her and kept right on walking. He’d keep his word. She would get where she needed to be, but at his leisure. After all, their conversation was going so well. Still, he wanted to see under that veil again and he most definitely would before he let her go completely.
He was entertaining fantasies of jerking the head covering off but those crumbled to pieces and fluttered away once she seized his arm and went on about some cat. Utter confusion marred his features. His brows drew down, his lips parted, and his dark eyes darted here and there, trying to figure out what cat she meant. This was Egypt. There were cats everywhere. They worshiped them.
There were cat statues, cat obelisks, cat monoliths, cat temples. There were street cats and ship cats and house cats and alley cats. The whole desert was so filled with cats that he was shocked the land wasn’t covered in fur. Maybe that was a complete exaggeration, due to his earlier annoyance about losing their battle of wills, but he finally saw which cat she meant.
A brown one with a fish wriggling in its mouth. Personally, he thought that she didn’t need to check on the kittens, because clearly the mother had a fish. They’d be fine. But then off she went, leaving him behind and there was no way he was going to let her out of his site. Catching hold of her wrist, he followed her as she weaved seamlessly through the crowd. He was impressed by her confidence but didn’t let go of her, even if she tried to shake him off. To him, she was money walking down the street.
So if she wanted to go on some strange little adventure to chase a silly cat and find kittens, he’d go with her. It wasn’t like he had much else to do right at that very moment. Besides; from what he’d seen of her already, she was gorgeous and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for gorgeous women.
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He had every intention of keeping up this odd conversation between them because he had decided that he was more stubborn than she was. Sure. He could have spoken to her in Greek, like she seemed inclined to do, but he didn’t want to. What he wanted was for her to bend to him and admit that he was able to speak to her as well as any Egyptian could. Nevermind that he had an accent. That shouldn’t matter. It was really the haughty way that she insisted she was better.
Nothing verbal, of course, to that affect. She’d have been a simpleton to have said something like that while in his custody on his ship, but in her mannerisms. The way she’d looked around at all of them as though they were vile and lower than she was. Money was the only difference, in his opinion. And inbreeding. The upper classes tended to do that.
“No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?”
“No, it’s a…” he paused, struggling for the word in her language and refusing to use it in his. But, in the end, he did use Greek because he’d reached a part of the conversation that held words that just never came up in his day to day conversations with people. So he finally switched to Greek; albeit, unhappily. “It’s a mining province. Mostly slaves and people like that. No one really leaves…”
When she smacked his hand and spewed out some gods forsaken unpronounceable name, he laughed at her and shook his head. No way was he attempting that. She was right that he didn’t know what it meant and never even thought to try. After all, it was so inconceivable, her real identity, that his mind never, ever strayed in that direction. He couldn’t read her thoughts or her amusement on the name, but he would have been amused at her abrupt confusion about their route.
His own little private joke.
Noticing her finally catching on that she wasn’t really where she’d come from, he said nothing. Merely smirked at her and kept right on walking. He’d keep his word. She would get where she needed to be, but at his leisure. After all, their conversation was going so well. Still, he wanted to see under that veil again and he most definitely would before he let her go completely.
He was entertaining fantasies of jerking the head covering off but those crumbled to pieces and fluttered away once she seized his arm and went on about some cat. Utter confusion marred his features. His brows drew down, his lips parted, and his dark eyes darted here and there, trying to figure out what cat she meant. This was Egypt. There were cats everywhere. They worshiped them.
There were cat statues, cat obelisks, cat monoliths, cat temples. There were street cats and ship cats and house cats and alley cats. The whole desert was so filled with cats that he was shocked the land wasn’t covered in fur. Maybe that was a complete exaggeration, due to his earlier annoyance about losing their battle of wills, but he finally saw which cat she meant.
A brown one with a fish wriggling in its mouth. Personally, he thought that she didn’t need to check on the kittens, because clearly the mother had a fish. They’d be fine. But then off she went, leaving him behind and there was no way he was going to let her out of his site. Catching hold of her wrist, he followed her as she weaved seamlessly through the crowd. He was impressed by her confidence but didn’t let go of her, even if she tried to shake him off. To him, she was money walking down the street.
So if she wanted to go on some strange little adventure to chase a silly cat and find kittens, he’d go with her. It wasn’t like he had much else to do right at that very moment. Besides; from what he’d seen of her already, she was gorgeous and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for gorgeous women.
He had every intention of keeping up this odd conversation between them because he had decided that he was more stubborn than she was. Sure. He could have spoken to her in Greek, like she seemed inclined to do, but he didn’t want to. What he wanted was for her to bend to him and admit that he was able to speak to her as well as any Egyptian could. Nevermind that he had an accent. That shouldn’t matter. It was really the haughty way that she insisted she was better.
Nothing verbal, of course, to that affect. She’d have been a simpleton to have said something like that while in his custody on his ship, but in her mannerisms. The way she’d looked around at all of them as though they were vile and lower than she was. Money was the only difference, in his opinion. And inbreeding. The upper classes tended to do that.
“No, I've never heard of Magnemea, though I was taught about your homeland and its customs. Is it a pirate stronghold?”
“No, it’s a…” he paused, struggling for the word in her language and refusing to use it in his. But, in the end, he did use Greek because he’d reached a part of the conversation that held words that just never came up in his day to day conversations with people. So he finally switched to Greek; albeit, unhappily. “It’s a mining province. Mostly slaves and people like that. No one really leaves…”
When she smacked his hand and spewed out some gods forsaken unpronounceable name, he laughed at her and shook his head. No way was he attempting that. She was right that he didn’t know what it meant and never even thought to try. After all, it was so inconceivable, her real identity, that his mind never, ever strayed in that direction. He couldn’t read her thoughts or her amusement on the name, but he would have been amused at her abrupt confusion about their route.
His own little private joke.
Noticing her finally catching on that she wasn’t really where she’d come from, he said nothing. Merely smirked at her and kept right on walking. He’d keep his word. She would get where she needed to be, but at his leisure. After all, their conversation was going so well. Still, he wanted to see under that veil again and he most definitely would before he let her go completely.
He was entertaining fantasies of jerking the head covering off but those crumbled to pieces and fluttered away once she seized his arm and went on about some cat. Utter confusion marred his features. His brows drew down, his lips parted, and his dark eyes darted here and there, trying to figure out what cat she meant. This was Egypt. There were cats everywhere. They worshiped them.
There were cat statues, cat obelisks, cat monoliths, cat temples. There were street cats and ship cats and house cats and alley cats. The whole desert was so filled with cats that he was shocked the land wasn’t covered in fur. Maybe that was a complete exaggeration, due to his earlier annoyance about losing their battle of wills, but he finally saw which cat she meant.
A brown one with a fish wriggling in its mouth. Personally, he thought that she didn’t need to check on the kittens, because clearly the mother had a fish. They’d be fine. But then off she went, leaving him behind and there was no way he was going to let her out of his site. Catching hold of her wrist, he followed her as she weaved seamlessly through the crowd. He was impressed by her confidence but didn’t let go of her, even if she tried to shake him off. To him, she was money walking down the street.
So if she wanted to go on some strange little adventure to chase a silly cat and find kittens, he’d go with her. It wasn’t like he had much else to do right at that very moment. Besides; from what he’d seen of her already, she was gorgeous and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for gorgeous women.
Hatshepsut smirked triumphantly as Lukos switched to Greek to explain the purpose of the province he hailed from. As far as she was concerned, she had won their impromptu battle of wills. He looked quite unhappy about her victory, and she felt a bit guilty for defeating him. But only a little.
His home sounded quite bleak and she wondered if he had once been a slave who had escaped and became a pirate. No, if he had been a slave, he wouldn't buy and sell slaves but attempt to free them instead. He could have been a miner, though, who aspired to bigger things.
She wasn't entirely sure that Lukos wasn't a legitimate captain of a legitimate ship, yet he had not corrected her when she had called him a pirate. If anything, he was an enigma, a mystery she would love to solve if she wasn't so pressed for time. “You left,” she pointed out, still in Greek. She didn't ask him why, though she longed to know. Maybe he would volunteer that information on his own.
As much as she needed to get back to her sedan chair, the young Queen was enjoying this strange little interlude. Not many people spoke to her as he did or looked her in the eye. And nobody dared touch her unless she gave them permission. Yet he had no idea who she was and did not feel the need to show her any deference. She found that refreshing, and though she hated to admit it, his company was quite pleasant.
Hatshepsut had not expected him to pronounce the name she had given him. She felt that she had earned another point in their game when he laughed and shook his head. “You're not the only person I've met who cannot say it. My nickname is Khema. You may call me that if you wish.”
She wasn't really worried about the roundabout route Lukos was taking to return her to the Souk. He had said he would take her back and she believed him. If he had wanted to keep her, he would have thrown her in a cage, but he had recognized that she was high born, and he must know the penalties for kidnapping. She briefly entertained the thought that he meant to sell her to a less scrupulous acquaintance, but dismissed it.
And then she saw the cat and took off after it, uncaring as to whether he followed her or not. He did, and grabbed her wrist so that she couldn't run off. Was he perhaps a bit protective of her, knowing the trouble she could get into on her own at the docks? “Be quiet,” she instructed, “and follow my lead. We don't want to frighten her. Mother cats are fierce about the safety of their kittens.” She grinned cheekily, unaware that her scarf had slipped backward, revealing more of her face. “I'd love to hear you explain how you obtained cat scratches to your men.”
The crowds parted for her as she strode after the cat, as if her instinctive regal bearing told them that she was somebody important. At length, they left most of the people behind, and the young Queen pulled Lukos into the shadows and crept stealthily after the cat. At one point, the brown feline looked behind her. Hatshepsut froze in place and raised one finger to her lips. After but a moment, the cat started moving again, leading them to a ramshackle building that looked abandoned.
The feline slipped through a crack in the door. It was much too small for a person to fit through. Walking up to it, she sighed when she saw the lock. “How good are you at picking locks?” she asked Lukos with a quizzical glance. "Or breaking down doors?"
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Hatshepsut smirked triumphantly as Lukos switched to Greek to explain the purpose of the province he hailed from. As far as she was concerned, she had won their impromptu battle of wills. He looked quite unhappy about her victory, and she felt a bit guilty for defeating him. But only a little.
His home sounded quite bleak and she wondered if he had once been a slave who had escaped and became a pirate. No, if he had been a slave, he wouldn't buy and sell slaves but attempt to free them instead. He could have been a miner, though, who aspired to bigger things.
She wasn't entirely sure that Lukos wasn't a legitimate captain of a legitimate ship, yet he had not corrected her when she had called him a pirate. If anything, he was an enigma, a mystery she would love to solve if she wasn't so pressed for time. “You left,” she pointed out, still in Greek. She didn't ask him why, though she longed to know. Maybe he would volunteer that information on his own.
As much as she needed to get back to her sedan chair, the young Queen was enjoying this strange little interlude. Not many people spoke to her as he did or looked her in the eye. And nobody dared touch her unless she gave them permission. Yet he had no idea who she was and did not feel the need to show her any deference. She found that refreshing, and though she hated to admit it, his company was quite pleasant.
Hatshepsut had not expected him to pronounce the name she had given him. She felt that she had earned another point in their game when he laughed and shook his head. “You're not the only person I've met who cannot say it. My nickname is Khema. You may call me that if you wish.”
She wasn't really worried about the roundabout route Lukos was taking to return her to the Souk. He had said he would take her back and she believed him. If he had wanted to keep her, he would have thrown her in a cage, but he had recognized that she was high born, and he must know the penalties for kidnapping. She briefly entertained the thought that he meant to sell her to a less scrupulous acquaintance, but dismissed it.
And then she saw the cat and took off after it, uncaring as to whether he followed her or not. He did, and grabbed her wrist so that she couldn't run off. Was he perhaps a bit protective of her, knowing the trouble she could get into on her own at the docks? “Be quiet,” she instructed, “and follow my lead. We don't want to frighten her. Mother cats are fierce about the safety of their kittens.” She grinned cheekily, unaware that her scarf had slipped backward, revealing more of her face. “I'd love to hear you explain how you obtained cat scratches to your men.”
The crowds parted for her as she strode after the cat, as if her instinctive regal bearing told them that she was somebody important. At length, they left most of the people behind, and the young Queen pulled Lukos into the shadows and crept stealthily after the cat. At one point, the brown feline looked behind her. Hatshepsut froze in place and raised one finger to her lips. After but a moment, the cat started moving again, leading them to a ramshackle building that looked abandoned.
The feline slipped through a crack in the door. It was much too small for a person to fit through. Walking up to it, she sighed when she saw the lock. “How good are you at picking locks?” she asked Lukos with a quizzical glance. "Or breaking down doors?"
Hatshepsut smirked triumphantly as Lukos switched to Greek to explain the purpose of the province he hailed from. As far as she was concerned, she had won their impromptu battle of wills. He looked quite unhappy about her victory, and she felt a bit guilty for defeating him. But only a little.
His home sounded quite bleak and she wondered if he had once been a slave who had escaped and became a pirate. No, if he had been a slave, he wouldn't buy and sell slaves but attempt to free them instead. He could have been a miner, though, who aspired to bigger things.
She wasn't entirely sure that Lukos wasn't a legitimate captain of a legitimate ship, yet he had not corrected her when she had called him a pirate. If anything, he was an enigma, a mystery she would love to solve if she wasn't so pressed for time. “You left,” she pointed out, still in Greek. She didn't ask him why, though she longed to know. Maybe he would volunteer that information on his own.
As much as she needed to get back to her sedan chair, the young Queen was enjoying this strange little interlude. Not many people spoke to her as he did or looked her in the eye. And nobody dared touch her unless she gave them permission. Yet he had no idea who she was and did not feel the need to show her any deference. She found that refreshing, and though she hated to admit it, his company was quite pleasant.
Hatshepsut had not expected him to pronounce the name she had given him. She felt that she had earned another point in their game when he laughed and shook his head. “You're not the only person I've met who cannot say it. My nickname is Khema. You may call me that if you wish.”
She wasn't really worried about the roundabout route Lukos was taking to return her to the Souk. He had said he would take her back and she believed him. If he had wanted to keep her, he would have thrown her in a cage, but he had recognized that she was high born, and he must know the penalties for kidnapping. She briefly entertained the thought that he meant to sell her to a less scrupulous acquaintance, but dismissed it.
And then she saw the cat and took off after it, uncaring as to whether he followed her or not. He did, and grabbed her wrist so that she couldn't run off. Was he perhaps a bit protective of her, knowing the trouble she could get into on her own at the docks? “Be quiet,” she instructed, “and follow my lead. We don't want to frighten her. Mother cats are fierce about the safety of their kittens.” She grinned cheekily, unaware that her scarf had slipped backward, revealing more of her face. “I'd love to hear you explain how you obtained cat scratches to your men.”
The crowds parted for her as she strode after the cat, as if her instinctive regal bearing told them that she was somebody important. At length, they left most of the people behind, and the young Queen pulled Lukos into the shadows and crept stealthily after the cat. At one point, the brown feline looked behind her. Hatshepsut froze in place and raised one finger to her lips. After but a moment, the cat started moving again, leading them to a ramshackle building that looked abandoned.
The feline slipped through a crack in the door. It was much too small for a person to fit through. Walking up to it, she sighed when she saw the lock. “How good are you at picking locks?” she asked Lukos with a quizzical glance. "Or breaking down doors?"
Egyptians and their cats. He’d never met a people more obsessed with animals than than Egyptians tended to be. They worshiped everything that moved. Cats, frogs, beetles, falcons, hippos, lions, jackals, cranes, crocodiles, snakes - even the heavens were personified. The sun, the moon, the sky and earth themselves. So, to him, seeing her chase this cat, he assumed that she was finding some kind of religious significance with it, rather than it just being a random stray that she just had to help. If he’d had any idea that her bleeding heart was truly that gentle, then she’d have been in trouble, because he would have used that knowledge for his own purposes. As it was, she was safe enough.
He was also not surprised that the crowds melted away before them and was not imagining it was due to her regal bearing. Possibly it had to do with the fact that he was Greek and a foreigner, attached at the wrist to an Egyptian girl and that spelled trouble. People tended to avoid trouble if they could and no one wanted involved. That or these people had seen the cat and were just as much in awe of it as she was. Either way.
They slipped across the street and through the crowds, zipping ever deeper into the city and off the route he’d planned to take to get her back to the Souk. She seemed heedless of where they were but he was now glancing around warily. These buildings didn’t look overly lived in and it would be easy to hide and jump out at the unwary and unsuspecting. Luckily for them both, he was armed and perfectly competent with a weapon. It so happened that they were either not being watched, or not deemed worth enough to rob because no one seethed out from the shadows of the buildings they passed.
Khema dragged him at a rapid pace through the alley and he watched in satisfaction as the scarf slid back, revealing long, dark hair. When she told him to be quiet and to follow her lead, further explaining that she didn’t want him scratched and showing some small, teasing concern as to how he would explain it to his crew, he was rather shocked into silence, rather than obedience. He wasn’t sure if she was bossy or that kind or both. Either way, he was becoming more and more sure that Egyptian women were perfect and Greek ones could take a flying leap off a cliff.
The cat led them on a merry chase that ended abruptly at a door. Letting go of her wrist, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her dismay at the cat disappearing. Well, that was journey’s end, and he was about to say so when she gave him a wide, brown eyed look that he found difficult to resist. “How good are you at picking locks? Or breaking down doors?" she asked.
He looked over at the door and gave it a testing kick with his boot. “I don’t think the wood is going to budge,” he said and then inspected the lock. “That might, though.” Removing his sword from his hip, he turned it pommel side down and struck the lock. A small spray of sparks flew up as metal screeched against metal. It only took four hard knocks before the thing was so bent that he was able to twist it until it gave way. The lock was a poor one and the metal was too soft to begin with.
“After you, Khema,” he said, giving her an exaggerated, mocking bow.
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Egyptians and their cats. He’d never met a people more obsessed with animals than than Egyptians tended to be. They worshiped everything that moved. Cats, frogs, beetles, falcons, hippos, lions, jackals, cranes, crocodiles, snakes - even the heavens were personified. The sun, the moon, the sky and earth themselves. So, to him, seeing her chase this cat, he assumed that she was finding some kind of religious significance with it, rather than it just being a random stray that she just had to help. If he’d had any idea that her bleeding heart was truly that gentle, then she’d have been in trouble, because he would have used that knowledge for his own purposes. As it was, she was safe enough.
He was also not surprised that the crowds melted away before them and was not imagining it was due to her regal bearing. Possibly it had to do with the fact that he was Greek and a foreigner, attached at the wrist to an Egyptian girl and that spelled trouble. People tended to avoid trouble if they could and no one wanted involved. That or these people had seen the cat and were just as much in awe of it as she was. Either way.
They slipped across the street and through the crowds, zipping ever deeper into the city and off the route he’d planned to take to get her back to the Souk. She seemed heedless of where they were but he was now glancing around warily. These buildings didn’t look overly lived in and it would be easy to hide and jump out at the unwary and unsuspecting. Luckily for them both, he was armed and perfectly competent with a weapon. It so happened that they were either not being watched, or not deemed worth enough to rob because no one seethed out from the shadows of the buildings they passed.
Khema dragged him at a rapid pace through the alley and he watched in satisfaction as the scarf slid back, revealing long, dark hair. When she told him to be quiet and to follow her lead, further explaining that she didn’t want him scratched and showing some small, teasing concern as to how he would explain it to his crew, he was rather shocked into silence, rather than obedience. He wasn’t sure if she was bossy or that kind or both. Either way, he was becoming more and more sure that Egyptian women were perfect and Greek ones could take a flying leap off a cliff.
The cat led them on a merry chase that ended abruptly at a door. Letting go of her wrist, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her dismay at the cat disappearing. Well, that was journey’s end, and he was about to say so when she gave him a wide, brown eyed look that he found difficult to resist. “How good are you at picking locks? Or breaking down doors?" she asked.
He looked over at the door and gave it a testing kick with his boot. “I don’t think the wood is going to budge,” he said and then inspected the lock. “That might, though.” Removing his sword from his hip, he turned it pommel side down and struck the lock. A small spray of sparks flew up as metal screeched against metal. It only took four hard knocks before the thing was so bent that he was able to twist it until it gave way. The lock was a poor one and the metal was too soft to begin with.
“After you, Khema,” he said, giving her an exaggerated, mocking bow.
Egyptians and their cats. He’d never met a people more obsessed with animals than than Egyptians tended to be. They worshiped everything that moved. Cats, frogs, beetles, falcons, hippos, lions, jackals, cranes, crocodiles, snakes - even the heavens were personified. The sun, the moon, the sky and earth themselves. So, to him, seeing her chase this cat, he assumed that she was finding some kind of religious significance with it, rather than it just being a random stray that she just had to help. If he’d had any idea that her bleeding heart was truly that gentle, then she’d have been in trouble, because he would have used that knowledge for his own purposes. As it was, she was safe enough.
He was also not surprised that the crowds melted away before them and was not imagining it was due to her regal bearing. Possibly it had to do with the fact that he was Greek and a foreigner, attached at the wrist to an Egyptian girl and that spelled trouble. People tended to avoid trouble if they could and no one wanted involved. That or these people had seen the cat and were just as much in awe of it as she was. Either way.
They slipped across the street and through the crowds, zipping ever deeper into the city and off the route he’d planned to take to get her back to the Souk. She seemed heedless of where they were but he was now glancing around warily. These buildings didn’t look overly lived in and it would be easy to hide and jump out at the unwary and unsuspecting. Luckily for them both, he was armed and perfectly competent with a weapon. It so happened that they were either not being watched, or not deemed worth enough to rob because no one seethed out from the shadows of the buildings they passed.
Khema dragged him at a rapid pace through the alley and he watched in satisfaction as the scarf slid back, revealing long, dark hair. When she told him to be quiet and to follow her lead, further explaining that she didn’t want him scratched and showing some small, teasing concern as to how he would explain it to his crew, he was rather shocked into silence, rather than obedience. He wasn’t sure if she was bossy or that kind or both. Either way, he was becoming more and more sure that Egyptian women were perfect and Greek ones could take a flying leap off a cliff.
The cat led them on a merry chase that ended abruptly at a door. Letting go of her wrist, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her dismay at the cat disappearing. Well, that was journey’s end, and he was about to say so when she gave him a wide, brown eyed look that he found difficult to resist. “How good are you at picking locks? Or breaking down doors?" she asked.
He looked over at the door and gave it a testing kick with his boot. “I don’t think the wood is going to budge,” he said and then inspected the lock. “That might, though.” Removing his sword from his hip, he turned it pommel side down and struck the lock. A small spray of sparks flew up as metal screeched against metal. It only took four hard knocks before the thing was so bent that he was able to twist it until it gave way. The lock was a poor one and the metal was too soft to begin with.
“After you, Khema,” he said, giving her an exaggerated, mocking bow.
Hatshepsut did feel that she should check on the kittens because Bastet would expect the Queen of Egypt to take care of her chosen creatures, but even had she not been the least bit religious, she would have still gone after them, for no other reason than that she loved cats and didn't like to think of them living in harsh conditions. As the mother had caught a fish … or stolen it from a fisherman's haul … the kittens were probably old enough to eat. But how often was their mother able to find food for them? If they were malnourished, she would take the entire litter, including the mother, back to her sedan chair, and explain their presence to her attendants as a sudden gift from the cat goddess.
She didn't pay much attention to where they were going but she knew they had left the docks behind and were heading into the city. How long had she been away, she wondered? Had her absence been noticed yet? No, if so, there would be panic in the streets as people frantically searched for their missing Queen. She had brought several chests of coins today, knowing that she would be gone for awhile. Maybe they were still being distributed. That could also be why there were not that many people about. Word had spread and everyone wanted to benefit from her generosity.
Hatshepsut's wrist chafed a bit in Lukos' grip, but she said nothing. She was glad that he was with her. The area the cat was leading them through was one of the more disreputable and it was dangerous for a woman, particularly a finely dressed one, to be walking alone here. She believed that he would protect her if she was accosted, but he was formidable enough that she doubted anybody would try.
Some of the glances they received were quite amusing. A young refined Egyptian girl leading a rough-looking (and handsome) Greek man through the streets was an unusual sight in a neighborhood devoid of brothels. As that thought crossed her mind, she blushed, pleased that she was in front of Lukos so that he couldn't see the crimson hue that blossomed across her golden cheeks. Maybe some people did think she was a prostitute taking a john somewhere private.
Lukos let her go when they reached the door to the dilapidated building, some kind of warehouse by the look of it. Not willing to give up, she hoped that the pirate would figure out some way to open the door. Kicking didn't work. Hatshepsut could have done that much herself. Was he really that useless? When he pulled out his sword, she stepped back and watched while he pummeled the lock a few times. She had to admire his strength as sparks shot through the air with each blow.
She smiled sweetly at his mocking bow. If he had known who she was, he would have given her a genuine one. “You're such a gentleman,” she said teasingly, brushing his hand with her own as she opened the door and stepped inside, blinking her eyes to adjust to the dimness within. Sunlight slanted through a row of small windows near the roof but it was still quite dark in the building. There were crates stacked against every wall and piled into the corners.
“Shhhh...” she whispered, looking back at Lukos. When all was silent, Hatshepsut heard the unmistakable sound of mewing at the far end of the room. She walked slowly toward the sound until she was standing in front of a stack of large crates. “They're behind these.”
Knowing that she wouldn't be able to lift then herself, she graced him with a winsome wide-eyed smile. “Will you move these for me … please?” The Queen was accustomed to ordering, not asking, but she wanted to see the kittens so much that she was willing to make a concession.
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Hatshepsut did feel that she should check on the kittens because Bastet would expect the Queen of Egypt to take care of her chosen creatures, but even had she not been the least bit religious, she would have still gone after them, for no other reason than that she loved cats and didn't like to think of them living in harsh conditions. As the mother had caught a fish … or stolen it from a fisherman's haul … the kittens were probably old enough to eat. But how often was their mother able to find food for them? If they were malnourished, she would take the entire litter, including the mother, back to her sedan chair, and explain their presence to her attendants as a sudden gift from the cat goddess.
She didn't pay much attention to where they were going but she knew they had left the docks behind and were heading into the city. How long had she been away, she wondered? Had her absence been noticed yet? No, if so, there would be panic in the streets as people frantically searched for their missing Queen. She had brought several chests of coins today, knowing that she would be gone for awhile. Maybe they were still being distributed. That could also be why there were not that many people about. Word had spread and everyone wanted to benefit from her generosity.
Hatshepsut's wrist chafed a bit in Lukos' grip, but she said nothing. She was glad that he was with her. The area the cat was leading them through was one of the more disreputable and it was dangerous for a woman, particularly a finely dressed one, to be walking alone here. She believed that he would protect her if she was accosted, but he was formidable enough that she doubted anybody would try.
Some of the glances they received were quite amusing. A young refined Egyptian girl leading a rough-looking (and handsome) Greek man through the streets was an unusual sight in a neighborhood devoid of brothels. As that thought crossed her mind, she blushed, pleased that she was in front of Lukos so that he couldn't see the crimson hue that blossomed across her golden cheeks. Maybe some people did think she was a prostitute taking a john somewhere private.
Lukos let her go when they reached the door to the dilapidated building, some kind of warehouse by the look of it. Not willing to give up, she hoped that the pirate would figure out some way to open the door. Kicking didn't work. Hatshepsut could have done that much herself. Was he really that useless? When he pulled out his sword, she stepped back and watched while he pummeled the lock a few times. She had to admire his strength as sparks shot through the air with each blow.
She smiled sweetly at his mocking bow. If he had known who she was, he would have given her a genuine one. “You're such a gentleman,” she said teasingly, brushing his hand with her own as she opened the door and stepped inside, blinking her eyes to adjust to the dimness within. Sunlight slanted through a row of small windows near the roof but it was still quite dark in the building. There were crates stacked against every wall and piled into the corners.
“Shhhh...” she whispered, looking back at Lukos. When all was silent, Hatshepsut heard the unmistakable sound of mewing at the far end of the room. She walked slowly toward the sound until she was standing in front of a stack of large crates. “They're behind these.”
Knowing that she wouldn't be able to lift then herself, she graced him with a winsome wide-eyed smile. “Will you move these for me … please?” The Queen was accustomed to ordering, not asking, but she wanted to see the kittens so much that she was willing to make a concession.
Hatshepsut did feel that she should check on the kittens because Bastet would expect the Queen of Egypt to take care of her chosen creatures, but even had she not been the least bit religious, she would have still gone after them, for no other reason than that she loved cats and didn't like to think of them living in harsh conditions. As the mother had caught a fish … or stolen it from a fisherman's haul … the kittens were probably old enough to eat. But how often was their mother able to find food for them? If they were malnourished, she would take the entire litter, including the mother, back to her sedan chair, and explain their presence to her attendants as a sudden gift from the cat goddess.
She didn't pay much attention to where they were going but she knew they had left the docks behind and were heading into the city. How long had she been away, she wondered? Had her absence been noticed yet? No, if so, there would be panic in the streets as people frantically searched for their missing Queen. She had brought several chests of coins today, knowing that she would be gone for awhile. Maybe they were still being distributed. That could also be why there were not that many people about. Word had spread and everyone wanted to benefit from her generosity.
Hatshepsut's wrist chafed a bit in Lukos' grip, but she said nothing. She was glad that he was with her. The area the cat was leading them through was one of the more disreputable and it was dangerous for a woman, particularly a finely dressed one, to be walking alone here. She believed that he would protect her if she was accosted, but he was formidable enough that she doubted anybody would try.
Some of the glances they received were quite amusing. A young refined Egyptian girl leading a rough-looking (and handsome) Greek man through the streets was an unusual sight in a neighborhood devoid of brothels. As that thought crossed her mind, she blushed, pleased that she was in front of Lukos so that he couldn't see the crimson hue that blossomed across her golden cheeks. Maybe some people did think she was a prostitute taking a john somewhere private.
Lukos let her go when they reached the door to the dilapidated building, some kind of warehouse by the look of it. Not willing to give up, she hoped that the pirate would figure out some way to open the door. Kicking didn't work. Hatshepsut could have done that much herself. Was he really that useless? When he pulled out his sword, she stepped back and watched while he pummeled the lock a few times. She had to admire his strength as sparks shot through the air with each blow.
She smiled sweetly at his mocking bow. If he had known who she was, he would have given her a genuine one. “You're such a gentleman,” she said teasingly, brushing his hand with her own as she opened the door and stepped inside, blinking her eyes to adjust to the dimness within. Sunlight slanted through a row of small windows near the roof but it was still quite dark in the building. There were crates stacked against every wall and piled into the corners.
“Shhhh...” she whispered, looking back at Lukos. When all was silent, Hatshepsut heard the unmistakable sound of mewing at the far end of the room. She walked slowly toward the sound until she was standing in front of a stack of large crates. “They're behind these.”
Knowing that she wouldn't be able to lift then herself, she graced him with a winsome wide-eyed smile. “Will you move these for me … please?” The Queen was accustomed to ordering, not asking, but she wanted to see the kittens so much that she was willing to make a concession.
“You're such a gentleman,” she teased and he laughed a little at that.
“Make sure you tell everyone you know,” he said. Despite the words being a clear joke, he liked them anyway. He definitely wasn’t above being flattered. The brush of her hand made him arch his brows at her. So touchy. He was into it. Arktos might not be able to have his fun, but Lukos was willing to bet that under the right circumstances...he could.
Following after her, he also blinked to clear his vision as they stepped from the comparatively bright shadows outside. Dust particles floated through the air, turning white against the beams of sunlight before filtering off into grayish nothing as they melted into the darker corners of the room. What this building was supposed to have been was a complete mystery to him. It was taller than it was long, with crates in the back and a mostly clear middle floor. A few palm fronds and thrushes lay between them and the back of the building. He kicked them out of the way and accidentally disturbed a scorpion, which he summarily squished with his boot.
He’d thought the heat outside was oppressive but without the benefit of wind or anyone coming and going, opening doors, in here, it was stifling. Tugging at his shirt, he glanced up at the ceiling above them. All the buildings in Egypt had flat roofs but in some buildings, like this one, the mud and thatch used to comprise it were visible, as well as the wooden beams to keep it together. It looked stable enough, at least. There was no fear of the roof caving in.
Squishing the scorpion was gross and he slid his boot across the floor, making scraping noises, which she immediately and decisively shushed. Lukos stopped but stared at her. Even for a noble woman, she had zero problem ordering him around. Made him wonder who had kidnapped who, at this point. She was then tiptoeing quietly across the room, crouching near the crates. He reluctantly followed. He didn’t give a flying flip about this cat and was literally only here because he didn’t want her going missing to come back on him or his ship. Plus the view from behind wasn’t bad at all.
When she finally turned back around and gave him that wide eyed, half smile look, he knew exactly what was going to come out of her mouth before she’d even said anything. “Will you move these for me … please?”
He repressed a sigh. The things he was doing for this girl and they weren’t even sleeping together. Honestly, he was too generous. If lifting crates so this girl could get at some cats didn’t erase some of his past sins, he was going to be pissed when he reached Hades.
Moving over to her, he tapped against her shoulder with his fingertips to get her to move, and then crouched to lift the first one. He was reminded that this was what he did literally every time he was in port. Heft boxes around. Up the gangplank, down the gangplank, up the stairs from the hold, down the stairs into the hold. Was his life all box lifting? ...no. There was some rowing in there too. And barking orders. And he managed to squeeze in time for a few rounds of gambling, wine, and whores if the port had some. ...he needed a hobby if his life could be summed up just like that.
Of course, no one’s life was every that simple. There were often moments, exactly like this one, where there was a deviation from day to day activities that made living interesting.
He had to move more than one crate but at last he was looking down at the wide eyes of a mommy cat, surrounded by a litter of fluffy furballs. Stepping back so that she could get to them, Lukos crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the crates he’d just moved. “There you are, princess. Have at it.”
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“You're such a gentleman,” she teased and he laughed a little at that.
“Make sure you tell everyone you know,” he said. Despite the words being a clear joke, he liked them anyway. He definitely wasn’t above being flattered. The brush of her hand made him arch his brows at her. So touchy. He was into it. Arktos might not be able to have his fun, but Lukos was willing to bet that under the right circumstances...he could.
Following after her, he also blinked to clear his vision as they stepped from the comparatively bright shadows outside. Dust particles floated through the air, turning white against the beams of sunlight before filtering off into grayish nothing as they melted into the darker corners of the room. What this building was supposed to have been was a complete mystery to him. It was taller than it was long, with crates in the back and a mostly clear middle floor. A few palm fronds and thrushes lay between them and the back of the building. He kicked them out of the way and accidentally disturbed a scorpion, which he summarily squished with his boot.
He’d thought the heat outside was oppressive but without the benefit of wind or anyone coming and going, opening doors, in here, it was stifling. Tugging at his shirt, he glanced up at the ceiling above them. All the buildings in Egypt had flat roofs but in some buildings, like this one, the mud and thatch used to comprise it were visible, as well as the wooden beams to keep it together. It looked stable enough, at least. There was no fear of the roof caving in.
Squishing the scorpion was gross and he slid his boot across the floor, making scraping noises, which she immediately and decisively shushed. Lukos stopped but stared at her. Even for a noble woman, she had zero problem ordering him around. Made him wonder who had kidnapped who, at this point. She was then tiptoeing quietly across the room, crouching near the crates. He reluctantly followed. He didn’t give a flying flip about this cat and was literally only here because he didn’t want her going missing to come back on him or his ship. Plus the view from behind wasn’t bad at all.
When she finally turned back around and gave him that wide eyed, half smile look, he knew exactly what was going to come out of her mouth before she’d even said anything. “Will you move these for me … please?”
He repressed a sigh. The things he was doing for this girl and they weren’t even sleeping together. Honestly, he was too generous. If lifting crates so this girl could get at some cats didn’t erase some of his past sins, he was going to be pissed when he reached Hades.
Moving over to her, he tapped against her shoulder with his fingertips to get her to move, and then crouched to lift the first one. He was reminded that this was what he did literally every time he was in port. Heft boxes around. Up the gangplank, down the gangplank, up the stairs from the hold, down the stairs into the hold. Was his life all box lifting? ...no. There was some rowing in there too. And barking orders. And he managed to squeeze in time for a few rounds of gambling, wine, and whores if the port had some. ...he needed a hobby if his life could be summed up just like that.
Of course, no one’s life was every that simple. There were often moments, exactly like this one, where there was a deviation from day to day activities that made living interesting.
He had to move more than one crate but at last he was looking down at the wide eyes of a mommy cat, surrounded by a litter of fluffy furballs. Stepping back so that she could get to them, Lukos crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the crates he’d just moved. “There you are, princess. Have at it.”
“You're such a gentleman,” she teased and he laughed a little at that.
“Make sure you tell everyone you know,” he said. Despite the words being a clear joke, he liked them anyway. He definitely wasn’t above being flattered. The brush of her hand made him arch his brows at her. So touchy. He was into it. Arktos might not be able to have his fun, but Lukos was willing to bet that under the right circumstances...he could.
Following after her, he also blinked to clear his vision as they stepped from the comparatively bright shadows outside. Dust particles floated through the air, turning white against the beams of sunlight before filtering off into grayish nothing as they melted into the darker corners of the room. What this building was supposed to have been was a complete mystery to him. It was taller than it was long, with crates in the back and a mostly clear middle floor. A few palm fronds and thrushes lay between them and the back of the building. He kicked them out of the way and accidentally disturbed a scorpion, which he summarily squished with his boot.
He’d thought the heat outside was oppressive but without the benefit of wind or anyone coming and going, opening doors, in here, it was stifling. Tugging at his shirt, he glanced up at the ceiling above them. All the buildings in Egypt had flat roofs but in some buildings, like this one, the mud and thatch used to comprise it were visible, as well as the wooden beams to keep it together. It looked stable enough, at least. There was no fear of the roof caving in.
Squishing the scorpion was gross and he slid his boot across the floor, making scraping noises, which she immediately and decisively shushed. Lukos stopped but stared at her. Even for a noble woman, she had zero problem ordering him around. Made him wonder who had kidnapped who, at this point. She was then tiptoeing quietly across the room, crouching near the crates. He reluctantly followed. He didn’t give a flying flip about this cat and was literally only here because he didn’t want her going missing to come back on him or his ship. Plus the view from behind wasn’t bad at all.
When she finally turned back around and gave him that wide eyed, half smile look, he knew exactly what was going to come out of her mouth before she’d even said anything. “Will you move these for me … please?”
He repressed a sigh. The things he was doing for this girl and they weren’t even sleeping together. Honestly, he was too generous. If lifting crates so this girl could get at some cats didn’t erase some of his past sins, he was going to be pissed when he reached Hades.
Moving over to her, he tapped against her shoulder with his fingertips to get her to move, and then crouched to lift the first one. He was reminded that this was what he did literally every time he was in port. Heft boxes around. Up the gangplank, down the gangplank, up the stairs from the hold, down the stairs into the hold. Was his life all box lifting? ...no. There was some rowing in there too. And barking orders. And he managed to squeeze in time for a few rounds of gambling, wine, and whores if the port had some. ...he needed a hobby if his life could be summed up just like that.
Of course, no one’s life was every that simple. There were often moments, exactly like this one, where there was a deviation from day to day activities that made living interesting.
He had to move more than one crate but at last he was looking down at the wide eyes of a mommy cat, surrounded by a litter of fluffy furballs. Stepping back so that she could get to them, Lukos crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the crates he’d just moved. “There you are, princess. Have at it.”
“Oh I will,” Hatshepsut promised, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. “I will regale all my friends with the tale of the gallant pirate who helped me find a litter of kittens.” Of course, she would tell no one. This little adventure of theirs must remain a secret. As she doubted she would ever see him again, she didn't have to worry that he would discover her true identity.
Why did the notion of not seeing him again dismay her? Because she was genuinely enjoying his company? Lukos was like no other man she had evermet. She wasn't quite certain why she allowed her hand to brush against his. Could she actually be missing his grip on her wrist and was trying to renew the contact between them? Or did she just want to tease him a bit?
Her feelings toward him were confusing. He was confusing. He could have left her and gone back to his ship when she stated her intention to follow the cat, but he had come with her instead and made certain that they didn't lose each other in the crowd. Why should he care what happened to her? She was nobody to him, just some Egyptian girl one of his crew had abducted from the street. Hatshepsut didn't understand his actions at all, though she was glad that he hadn't left her alone.
The young Queen wasn't bothered by the heat. Not only was she accustomed to her kingdom's sultry climate, but she was only wearing a thin linen shift and a tattered scarf around her shoulders. At some point as they stalked the cat, it had fallen from her head and no longer concealed her face. Though her first instinct was to pull it up again, she decided not to. Lukos didn't recognize her so what did it matter if he saw her face? She would wrap it around her again when they left the building. There was nobody else to see her here.
Her concentration centered on locating the kittens, she didn't notice the scorpion crawl from the debris or see Lucas stomp on it. She did wonder why he was scraping one of his boots against the floor but he stopped when she bid him be silent. Had she known, she would have thanked him. Scorpions were an annoying fact of life and she was more than a bit frightened by them. Every now and then one found its way into the palace and she had discovered one of the poisonous creatures in her room when she was a child. After it had been killed and taken away, she had insisted on sleeping with her mother that night, afraid that another one might be lurking in her chambers.
Hatshepsut had not asked Lukos to follow her across the room, but she heard his footsteps behind her. Maybe he was curious about the kittens as well. Her polite and playful request had the desired effect. She didn't realize she was in the way until he tapped her on the shoulder. With a disarming grin, she moved aside. Watching him work was quite fascinating. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed every time he picked up a crate and set it down.
Again, she thought how handsome he was. He wasn't Osorsen, but he had an appeal all his own. Those exciting sensations that she felt in the General's presence hummed through her body. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips crushed against hers, but she quickly pushed those fanciful musings to the back of her mind.
Finally he moved aside, revealing the little cat family. Four kittens, about a month and an a half old, were tearing into the fish, their little paws trying to push each other away and claim more for themselves. The mother cat sat nearby. Though she hissed once, she didn't attempt to attack the two humans who had invaded her home. Hatshepsut laughed … a light, lyrical sound … as she watched them.
"Aren't they adorable?” she asked, kneeling down on the dusty floor and holding out a hand to the mother cat. The calico tentatively took a step forward and sniffed it and then started purring. “They look like they're old enough to leave their mother. And they're already eating well.”
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“Oh I will,” Hatshepsut promised, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. “I will regale all my friends with the tale of the gallant pirate who helped me find a litter of kittens.” Of course, she would tell no one. This little adventure of theirs must remain a secret. As she doubted she would ever see him again, she didn't have to worry that he would discover her true identity.
Why did the notion of not seeing him again dismay her? Because she was genuinely enjoying his company? Lukos was like no other man she had evermet. She wasn't quite certain why she allowed her hand to brush against his. Could she actually be missing his grip on her wrist and was trying to renew the contact between them? Or did she just want to tease him a bit?
Her feelings toward him were confusing. He was confusing. He could have left her and gone back to his ship when she stated her intention to follow the cat, but he had come with her instead and made certain that they didn't lose each other in the crowd. Why should he care what happened to her? She was nobody to him, just some Egyptian girl one of his crew had abducted from the street. Hatshepsut didn't understand his actions at all, though she was glad that he hadn't left her alone.
The young Queen wasn't bothered by the heat. Not only was she accustomed to her kingdom's sultry climate, but she was only wearing a thin linen shift and a tattered scarf around her shoulders. At some point as they stalked the cat, it had fallen from her head and no longer concealed her face. Though her first instinct was to pull it up again, she decided not to. Lukos didn't recognize her so what did it matter if he saw her face? She would wrap it around her again when they left the building. There was nobody else to see her here.
Her concentration centered on locating the kittens, she didn't notice the scorpion crawl from the debris or see Lucas stomp on it. She did wonder why he was scraping one of his boots against the floor but he stopped when she bid him be silent. Had she known, she would have thanked him. Scorpions were an annoying fact of life and she was more than a bit frightened by them. Every now and then one found its way into the palace and she had discovered one of the poisonous creatures in her room when she was a child. After it had been killed and taken away, she had insisted on sleeping with her mother that night, afraid that another one might be lurking in her chambers.
Hatshepsut had not asked Lukos to follow her across the room, but she heard his footsteps behind her. Maybe he was curious about the kittens as well. Her polite and playful request had the desired effect. She didn't realize she was in the way until he tapped her on the shoulder. With a disarming grin, she moved aside. Watching him work was quite fascinating. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed every time he picked up a crate and set it down.
Again, she thought how handsome he was. He wasn't Osorsen, but he had an appeal all his own. Those exciting sensations that she felt in the General's presence hummed through her body. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips crushed against hers, but she quickly pushed those fanciful musings to the back of her mind.
Finally he moved aside, revealing the little cat family. Four kittens, about a month and an a half old, were tearing into the fish, their little paws trying to push each other away and claim more for themselves. The mother cat sat nearby. Though she hissed once, she didn't attempt to attack the two humans who had invaded her home. Hatshepsut laughed … a light, lyrical sound … as she watched them.
"Aren't they adorable?” she asked, kneeling down on the dusty floor and holding out a hand to the mother cat. The calico tentatively took a step forward and sniffed it and then started purring. “They look like they're old enough to leave their mother. And they're already eating well.”
“Oh I will,” Hatshepsut promised, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. “I will regale all my friends with the tale of the gallant pirate who helped me find a litter of kittens.” Of course, she would tell no one. This little adventure of theirs must remain a secret. As she doubted she would ever see him again, she didn't have to worry that he would discover her true identity.
Why did the notion of not seeing him again dismay her? Because she was genuinely enjoying his company? Lukos was like no other man she had evermet. She wasn't quite certain why she allowed her hand to brush against his. Could she actually be missing his grip on her wrist and was trying to renew the contact between them? Or did she just want to tease him a bit?
Her feelings toward him were confusing. He was confusing. He could have left her and gone back to his ship when she stated her intention to follow the cat, but he had come with her instead and made certain that they didn't lose each other in the crowd. Why should he care what happened to her? She was nobody to him, just some Egyptian girl one of his crew had abducted from the street. Hatshepsut didn't understand his actions at all, though she was glad that he hadn't left her alone.
The young Queen wasn't bothered by the heat. Not only was she accustomed to her kingdom's sultry climate, but she was only wearing a thin linen shift and a tattered scarf around her shoulders. At some point as they stalked the cat, it had fallen from her head and no longer concealed her face. Though her first instinct was to pull it up again, she decided not to. Lukos didn't recognize her so what did it matter if he saw her face? She would wrap it around her again when they left the building. There was nobody else to see her here.
Her concentration centered on locating the kittens, she didn't notice the scorpion crawl from the debris or see Lucas stomp on it. She did wonder why he was scraping one of his boots against the floor but he stopped when she bid him be silent. Had she known, she would have thanked him. Scorpions were an annoying fact of life and she was more than a bit frightened by them. Every now and then one found its way into the palace and she had discovered one of the poisonous creatures in her room when she was a child. After it had been killed and taken away, she had insisted on sleeping with her mother that night, afraid that another one might be lurking in her chambers.
Hatshepsut had not asked Lukos to follow her across the room, but she heard his footsteps behind her. Maybe he was curious about the kittens as well. Her polite and playful request had the desired effect. She didn't realize she was in the way until he tapped her on the shoulder. With a disarming grin, she moved aside. Watching him work was quite fascinating. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed every time he picked up a crate and set it down.
Again, she thought how handsome he was. He wasn't Osorsen, but he had an appeal all his own. Those exciting sensations that she felt in the General's presence hummed through her body. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips crushed against hers, but she quickly pushed those fanciful musings to the back of her mind.
Finally he moved aside, revealing the little cat family. Four kittens, about a month and an a half old, were tearing into the fish, their little paws trying to push each other away and claim more for themselves. The mother cat sat nearby. Though she hissed once, she didn't attempt to attack the two humans who had invaded her home. Hatshepsut laughed … a light, lyrical sound … as she watched them.
"Aren't they adorable?” she asked, kneeling down on the dusty floor and holding out a hand to the mother cat. The calico tentatively took a step forward and sniffed it and then started purring. “They look like they're old enough to leave their mother. And they're already eating well.”
If he’d had any inkling as to where her thoughts lay, he’d have had her up against the crates so fast her head would have spun. He didn’t know about her General and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No strings was what he liked and all he would promise. There were not many good girls that were ok with that sort of arrangement and, because he had slotted her into the ‘good girl’ column of his mind, hadn’t the slightest idea that she’d had any sort of flight of fancy. An imagination that could absolutely turn into reality.
Alas, she said nothing and he merely shifted boxes out of the way.
From his place leaning on the crates, he had a fairly good view of the squirming pile of kittens as they fought one another over the fish. The most aggressive of these offenders was a little dark gray kitten. Its fur was mottled like ash, mostly light with splashes of charcoal along its body in interesting swirl patterns. Lukos squatted down next to Khema, his shoulder brushing hers, and reached for the ferocious kitten. It turned out not to be quite as terrifying as he thought it might.
The kitten was more intent on the fish than Lukos’s hand around its body. When he pulled the kitten up, it kept a tight hold of the fish’s scales in its mouth and ended up with a goodly chunk of flesh as a reward for its diligence. He cupped its bottom in his palm and sat it up, watching it as it ate the meat and ignored him like he wasn’t holding it. He grinned and turned his hand so that he could see the back of the kitten, who still seemed unperturbed by this.
“Here,” he glanced at Khema was still right at his side, their shoulders and knees brushing occasionally, and he plopped the gray kitten into her hands. “Hold that.” If he’d bothered to look, he’d have seen that the kitten was female and he went to pick up one of her brothers. An unremarkable kitten of unremarkable coloring. There was a calico one, like their mother, the interesting gray one that Khema now held, and then the two boys who were wholly forgettable.
Lukos traded Khema kittens and laughed when the gray one attacked his thumb with her small teeth. “I like this one,” he said. “Little terror.” Holding her up, she eyed him as she gnawed on his thumb and then she abruptly stopped doing that and purred at him, putting out a paw like she wanted to either claw or touch his face. He wasn’t sure which. She blinked at him with eyes that would surely be yellow before long. They were already tinged with amber, like they were starting to change.
“Are you keeping one?” he tilted his head at her. “They’re your gods, right? You can hardly not keep at least one.”
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If he’d had any inkling as to where her thoughts lay, he’d have had her up against the crates so fast her head would have spun. He didn’t know about her General and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No strings was what he liked and all he would promise. There were not many good girls that were ok with that sort of arrangement and, because he had slotted her into the ‘good girl’ column of his mind, hadn’t the slightest idea that she’d had any sort of flight of fancy. An imagination that could absolutely turn into reality.
Alas, she said nothing and he merely shifted boxes out of the way.
From his place leaning on the crates, he had a fairly good view of the squirming pile of kittens as they fought one another over the fish. The most aggressive of these offenders was a little dark gray kitten. Its fur was mottled like ash, mostly light with splashes of charcoal along its body in interesting swirl patterns. Lukos squatted down next to Khema, his shoulder brushing hers, and reached for the ferocious kitten. It turned out not to be quite as terrifying as he thought it might.
The kitten was more intent on the fish than Lukos’s hand around its body. When he pulled the kitten up, it kept a tight hold of the fish’s scales in its mouth and ended up with a goodly chunk of flesh as a reward for its diligence. He cupped its bottom in his palm and sat it up, watching it as it ate the meat and ignored him like he wasn’t holding it. He grinned and turned his hand so that he could see the back of the kitten, who still seemed unperturbed by this.
“Here,” he glanced at Khema was still right at his side, their shoulders and knees brushing occasionally, and he plopped the gray kitten into her hands. “Hold that.” If he’d bothered to look, he’d have seen that the kitten was female and he went to pick up one of her brothers. An unremarkable kitten of unremarkable coloring. There was a calico one, like their mother, the interesting gray one that Khema now held, and then the two boys who were wholly forgettable.
Lukos traded Khema kittens and laughed when the gray one attacked his thumb with her small teeth. “I like this one,” he said. “Little terror.” Holding her up, she eyed him as she gnawed on his thumb and then she abruptly stopped doing that and purred at him, putting out a paw like she wanted to either claw or touch his face. He wasn’t sure which. She blinked at him with eyes that would surely be yellow before long. They were already tinged with amber, like they were starting to change.
“Are you keeping one?” he tilted his head at her. “They’re your gods, right? You can hardly not keep at least one.”
If he’d had any inkling as to where her thoughts lay, he’d have had her up against the crates so fast her head would have spun. He didn’t know about her General and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No strings was what he liked and all he would promise. There were not many good girls that were ok with that sort of arrangement and, because he had slotted her into the ‘good girl’ column of his mind, hadn’t the slightest idea that she’d had any sort of flight of fancy. An imagination that could absolutely turn into reality.
Alas, she said nothing and he merely shifted boxes out of the way.
From his place leaning on the crates, he had a fairly good view of the squirming pile of kittens as they fought one another over the fish. The most aggressive of these offenders was a little dark gray kitten. Its fur was mottled like ash, mostly light with splashes of charcoal along its body in interesting swirl patterns. Lukos squatted down next to Khema, his shoulder brushing hers, and reached for the ferocious kitten. It turned out not to be quite as terrifying as he thought it might.
The kitten was more intent on the fish than Lukos’s hand around its body. When he pulled the kitten up, it kept a tight hold of the fish’s scales in its mouth and ended up with a goodly chunk of flesh as a reward for its diligence. He cupped its bottom in his palm and sat it up, watching it as it ate the meat and ignored him like he wasn’t holding it. He grinned and turned his hand so that he could see the back of the kitten, who still seemed unperturbed by this.
“Here,” he glanced at Khema was still right at his side, their shoulders and knees brushing occasionally, and he plopped the gray kitten into her hands. “Hold that.” If he’d bothered to look, he’d have seen that the kitten was female and he went to pick up one of her brothers. An unremarkable kitten of unremarkable coloring. There was a calico one, like their mother, the interesting gray one that Khema now held, and then the two boys who were wholly forgettable.
Lukos traded Khema kittens and laughed when the gray one attacked his thumb with her small teeth. “I like this one,” he said. “Little terror.” Holding her up, she eyed him as she gnawed on his thumb and then she abruptly stopped doing that and purred at him, putting out a paw like she wanted to either claw or touch his face. He wasn’t sure which. She blinked at him with eyes that would surely be yellow before long. They were already tinged with amber, like they were starting to change.
“Are you keeping one?” he tilted his head at her. “They’re your gods, right? You can hardly not keep at least one.”
The mother cat's friendliness didn't surprise Hatshepsut. Cats were sacred and they were all treated well. If the feline had stolen the fish from a fisherman's catch, he wouldn't have stopped her and might have considered his efforts to be blessed. It was also possible that somebody had given it to her after noticing that she had recently had kittens. The calico was obviously accustomed to people from the way she purred and rubbed against the Queen's outstretched hand.
She felt rather than saw Lukos kneel down next to her, close enough so that their shoulders touched. Did the pirate like cats? She had thought he had come with her because he had promised to see her safely back to the Grand Souk, not because he cared for the fate of a litter of kittens. Yet it seemed she had been wrong, because he reached out and grasped the most ferocious of the four, lifting it slowly so as not to startle it. Not that there was much of a chance of that, since it was completely focused on the hunk of flesh it had pulled off of the fish. Lukos had probably unknowingly assisted it by picking it up while its sharp little teeth were fastened upon its 'prey.'
Hatshepsut watched the sailor as he observed it. The mother cat didn't seem to mind that a stranger was holding one of her babies. Maybe she was ready to be rid of them. The young Queen remembered once when she was a child strolling through the gardens, a cat had approached her and meowed plaintively. It had stopped when she leaned forward to pet it, and then it had stepped away and started meowing again. She had realized it wanted her to follow it. She had been led to a group of bushes where she could hear the mews of kittens. The mother cat had wanted her to find them so that she could take them away.
Lukos' grin brought her out of her reverie. Looking down at the small kitten in his large hands, she wondered if those hands would be so gentle upon her bare skin if she were to allow him to … No, I must not think such things. the Queen admonished herself. Then his knee brushed against hers and a bright jolt of yearning flowed through her. What is happening to me? I love Osorsen. How can a Greek pirate affect me like this? Her body had only recently been awakened to desire and sometimes she felt that it had a mind of its own.
The gray kitten was unceremoniously dumped into her lap, ending her baffling flight of fancy. Lukos picked up another one. They had come to the end of their meal. The fat silver fish had been reduced to a pile of bones. One of the remaining kittens pounced on the other and they rolled around together on the filthy floor. The mother's green eyes flickered from Lukos to Hatshepsut and back again, but she made no move to rescue her babies.
The pirate plucked the gray one from her lap and gave her the little brown feline he had been holding. Unwrapping the shawl completely, she dangled the edge in front of the kitten, laughing as he batted at it. The other two saw what their brother was doing and came over to join in. Hatshepsut didn't see the gray cat attack Lukos' fingers, but when he declared that he liked it, she turned toward him, smiling at the way he studied the little furball.
“You're going to take that one back to your ship?” she asked, trailing the end of the scarf over the floor and watching the other three scramble for it. “Cats are not actually gods, but they do represent one. Bastet has the head of a cat and felines are her representatives on earth. We worship her by taking care of them.”
The young Queen glanced again at the mother. “I suppose I should take the other three. They would be fine here, but it's rather dirty and they could easily fall ill in such soiled surroundings. If we put them in one of the crates, can you carry it back to the Souk for me?” How she would get it to her sedan chair, she did not know, but somehow she would manage it without revealing her identity to Lukos. “We'll take the mother too if she wants to come along.”
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The mother cat's friendliness didn't surprise Hatshepsut. Cats were sacred and they were all treated well. If the feline had stolen the fish from a fisherman's catch, he wouldn't have stopped her and might have considered his efforts to be blessed. It was also possible that somebody had given it to her after noticing that she had recently had kittens. The calico was obviously accustomed to people from the way she purred and rubbed against the Queen's outstretched hand.
She felt rather than saw Lukos kneel down next to her, close enough so that their shoulders touched. Did the pirate like cats? She had thought he had come with her because he had promised to see her safely back to the Grand Souk, not because he cared for the fate of a litter of kittens. Yet it seemed she had been wrong, because he reached out and grasped the most ferocious of the four, lifting it slowly so as not to startle it. Not that there was much of a chance of that, since it was completely focused on the hunk of flesh it had pulled off of the fish. Lukos had probably unknowingly assisted it by picking it up while its sharp little teeth were fastened upon its 'prey.'
Hatshepsut watched the sailor as he observed it. The mother cat didn't seem to mind that a stranger was holding one of her babies. Maybe she was ready to be rid of them. The young Queen remembered once when she was a child strolling through the gardens, a cat had approached her and meowed plaintively. It had stopped when she leaned forward to pet it, and then it had stepped away and started meowing again. She had realized it wanted her to follow it. She had been led to a group of bushes where she could hear the mews of kittens. The mother cat had wanted her to find them so that she could take them away.
Lukos' grin brought her out of her reverie. Looking down at the small kitten in his large hands, she wondered if those hands would be so gentle upon her bare skin if she were to allow him to … No, I must not think such things. the Queen admonished herself. Then his knee brushed against hers and a bright jolt of yearning flowed through her. What is happening to me? I love Osorsen. How can a Greek pirate affect me like this? Her body had only recently been awakened to desire and sometimes she felt that it had a mind of its own.
The gray kitten was unceremoniously dumped into her lap, ending her baffling flight of fancy. Lukos picked up another one. They had come to the end of their meal. The fat silver fish had been reduced to a pile of bones. One of the remaining kittens pounced on the other and they rolled around together on the filthy floor. The mother's green eyes flickered from Lukos to Hatshepsut and back again, but she made no move to rescue her babies.
The pirate plucked the gray one from her lap and gave her the little brown feline he had been holding. Unwrapping the shawl completely, she dangled the edge in front of the kitten, laughing as he batted at it. The other two saw what their brother was doing and came over to join in. Hatshepsut didn't see the gray cat attack Lukos' fingers, but when he declared that he liked it, she turned toward him, smiling at the way he studied the little furball.
“You're going to take that one back to your ship?” she asked, trailing the end of the scarf over the floor and watching the other three scramble for it. “Cats are not actually gods, but they do represent one. Bastet has the head of a cat and felines are her representatives on earth. We worship her by taking care of them.”
The young Queen glanced again at the mother. “I suppose I should take the other three. They would be fine here, but it's rather dirty and they could easily fall ill in such soiled surroundings. If we put them in one of the crates, can you carry it back to the Souk for me?” How she would get it to her sedan chair, she did not know, but somehow she would manage it without revealing her identity to Lukos. “We'll take the mother too if she wants to come along.”
The mother cat's friendliness didn't surprise Hatshepsut. Cats were sacred and they were all treated well. If the feline had stolen the fish from a fisherman's catch, he wouldn't have stopped her and might have considered his efforts to be blessed. It was also possible that somebody had given it to her after noticing that she had recently had kittens. The calico was obviously accustomed to people from the way she purred and rubbed against the Queen's outstretched hand.
She felt rather than saw Lukos kneel down next to her, close enough so that their shoulders touched. Did the pirate like cats? She had thought he had come with her because he had promised to see her safely back to the Grand Souk, not because he cared for the fate of a litter of kittens. Yet it seemed she had been wrong, because he reached out and grasped the most ferocious of the four, lifting it slowly so as not to startle it. Not that there was much of a chance of that, since it was completely focused on the hunk of flesh it had pulled off of the fish. Lukos had probably unknowingly assisted it by picking it up while its sharp little teeth were fastened upon its 'prey.'
Hatshepsut watched the sailor as he observed it. The mother cat didn't seem to mind that a stranger was holding one of her babies. Maybe she was ready to be rid of them. The young Queen remembered once when she was a child strolling through the gardens, a cat had approached her and meowed plaintively. It had stopped when she leaned forward to pet it, and then it had stepped away and started meowing again. She had realized it wanted her to follow it. She had been led to a group of bushes where she could hear the mews of kittens. The mother cat had wanted her to find them so that she could take them away.
Lukos' grin brought her out of her reverie. Looking down at the small kitten in his large hands, she wondered if those hands would be so gentle upon her bare skin if she were to allow him to … No, I must not think such things. the Queen admonished herself. Then his knee brushed against hers and a bright jolt of yearning flowed through her. What is happening to me? I love Osorsen. How can a Greek pirate affect me like this? Her body had only recently been awakened to desire and sometimes she felt that it had a mind of its own.
The gray kitten was unceremoniously dumped into her lap, ending her baffling flight of fancy. Lukos picked up another one. They had come to the end of their meal. The fat silver fish had been reduced to a pile of bones. One of the remaining kittens pounced on the other and they rolled around together on the filthy floor. The mother's green eyes flickered from Lukos to Hatshepsut and back again, but she made no move to rescue her babies.
The pirate plucked the gray one from her lap and gave her the little brown feline he had been holding. Unwrapping the shawl completely, she dangled the edge in front of the kitten, laughing as he batted at it. The other two saw what their brother was doing and came over to join in. Hatshepsut didn't see the gray cat attack Lukos' fingers, but when he declared that he liked it, she turned toward him, smiling at the way he studied the little furball.
“You're going to take that one back to your ship?” she asked, trailing the end of the scarf over the floor and watching the other three scramble for it. “Cats are not actually gods, but they do represent one. Bastet has the head of a cat and felines are her representatives on earth. We worship her by taking care of them.”
The young Queen glanced again at the mother. “I suppose I should take the other three. They would be fine here, but it's rather dirty and they could easily fall ill in such soiled surroundings. If we put them in one of the crates, can you carry it back to the Souk for me?” How she would get it to her sedan chair, she did not know, but somehow she would manage it without revealing her identity to Lukos. “We'll take the mother too if she wants to come along.”