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Hena snorted at his betrothed’s question, as if he was going to stop anyone from enjoying themselves when it came to wine and opium. Well, maybe opium at the event itself, there was a time and place to not be completely drifting from reality, and this was probably one of those times.
“Wine for now. Opium later.” He said simply, more of a command than anything. He did not need his future wife making some sort of spectacle of herself in front of such important people. He doubted many would be partaking in opium at the actual event, but he had no doubt that small parties would break out later and they could both indulge their whims at those events.
When she argued against his decision, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt. He was both angry that she would go against what he had said they would be doing, but also a little happy about it because he didn’t want a wife that was completely spineless. She should support her husband’s decisions and whims, but she should also have at least some sort of brain of her own. It was a precarious line to walk with him, having your own thoughts and opinions, because it would be all too easy for him to see it as disrespect, and then they would have major issues before they were even wed.
He paused to look at her for a few moments, his dark eyes locked on hers as he let his intense gaze weigh her intentions for a while before providing a reply.
Her flattery was well said and well timed, perfectly softening the blow to the man’s ego as she wished to go against what he had said.
“Very well. This time you win. Do not expect this often.” He said simply and truthfully, he could be stubborn most of the time, and he never saw fault with his own logic. Before he allowed her to pull away from his gaze, he reached up and pushed a few strands of her hair back in place. A motion that could be translated as sweet, but for him it was about perfection with her physical beauty. He would not settle for less than perfect.
He let her take the lead, admiring the view for just a few seconds before he followed behind her, taking the stance of loving and protecting soon-to-be husband as she offered her greetings to the Queen on her birthday.
He let her have her moment before he stepped forward, offering a respectful bow for the Queen and her husband as well, the practiced court smile on his face as he offered his well wishes to them both.
“Your Radiance, we are honored to share such a special day with your loyal subjects, and to be able to do so in a presence such as yours. My slaves have delivered our gifts for your special day, and our families spared no expense when providing gifts on such an exemplary day.” He said, the silvered words easily slipping through his lips, practiced charm and grace a second nature to the man due to his family's status. Even before he had been found as the rightful heir, he had had plenty of opportunity to impress at such events. Though as a child he had been less than proper, now a grown man, he knew better. Satisfied with his greetings to the royals, he gave one more respectful bow before he took Mandisa by the arm and moved her away so the next people could pay their respects.
“Wine.” He commanded one of the slaves, who hurried off to find them glasses of the requested drink.
His attention turned back to Mandisa for the moment.
“There are people already talking, whispers about us among the crowds.” He said, a giddy lilt to his voice with a genuine smile creeping in. There were few things that Hena loved in life more than attention being on him.
Bandit
Akhenaten
Bandit
Akhenaten
Awards
First Impressions:Lean; His eyes are dark and intense, and his hair is long and luxurious.
Address: Your His Lordship
Hena snorted at his betrothed’s question, as if he was going to stop anyone from enjoying themselves when it came to wine and opium. Well, maybe opium at the event itself, there was a time and place to not be completely drifting from reality, and this was probably one of those times.
“Wine for now. Opium later.” He said simply, more of a command than anything. He did not need his future wife making some sort of spectacle of herself in front of such important people. He doubted many would be partaking in opium at the actual event, but he had no doubt that small parties would break out later and they could both indulge their whims at those events.
When she argued against his decision, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt. He was both angry that she would go against what he had said they would be doing, but also a little happy about it because he didn’t want a wife that was completely spineless. She should support her husband’s decisions and whims, but she should also have at least some sort of brain of her own. It was a precarious line to walk with him, having your own thoughts and opinions, because it would be all too easy for him to see it as disrespect, and then they would have major issues before they were even wed.
He paused to look at her for a few moments, his dark eyes locked on hers as he let his intense gaze weigh her intentions for a while before providing a reply.
Her flattery was well said and well timed, perfectly softening the blow to the man’s ego as she wished to go against what he had said.
“Very well. This time you win. Do not expect this often.” He said simply and truthfully, he could be stubborn most of the time, and he never saw fault with his own logic. Before he allowed her to pull away from his gaze, he reached up and pushed a few strands of her hair back in place. A motion that could be translated as sweet, but for him it was about perfection with her physical beauty. He would not settle for less than perfect.
He let her take the lead, admiring the view for just a few seconds before he followed behind her, taking the stance of loving and protecting soon-to-be husband as she offered her greetings to the Queen on her birthday.
He let her have her moment before he stepped forward, offering a respectful bow for the Queen and her husband as well, the practiced court smile on his face as he offered his well wishes to them both.
“Your Radiance, we are honored to share such a special day with your loyal subjects, and to be able to do so in a presence such as yours. My slaves have delivered our gifts for your special day, and our families spared no expense when providing gifts on such an exemplary day.” He said, the silvered words easily slipping through his lips, practiced charm and grace a second nature to the man due to his family's status. Even before he had been found as the rightful heir, he had had plenty of opportunity to impress at such events. Though as a child he had been less than proper, now a grown man, he knew better. Satisfied with his greetings to the royals, he gave one more respectful bow before he took Mandisa by the arm and moved her away so the next people could pay their respects.
“Wine.” He commanded one of the slaves, who hurried off to find them glasses of the requested drink.
His attention turned back to Mandisa for the moment.
“There are people already talking, whispers about us among the crowds.” He said, a giddy lilt to his voice with a genuine smile creeping in. There were few things that Hena loved in life more than attention being on him.
Hena snorted at his betrothed’s question, as if he was going to stop anyone from enjoying themselves when it came to wine and opium. Well, maybe opium at the event itself, there was a time and place to not be completely drifting from reality, and this was probably one of those times.
“Wine for now. Opium later.” He said simply, more of a command than anything. He did not need his future wife making some sort of spectacle of herself in front of such important people. He doubted many would be partaking in opium at the actual event, but he had no doubt that small parties would break out later and they could both indulge their whims at those events.
When she argued against his decision, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt. He was both angry that she would go against what he had said they would be doing, but also a little happy about it because he didn’t want a wife that was completely spineless. She should support her husband’s decisions and whims, but she should also have at least some sort of brain of her own. It was a precarious line to walk with him, having your own thoughts and opinions, because it would be all too easy for him to see it as disrespect, and then they would have major issues before they were even wed.
He paused to look at her for a few moments, his dark eyes locked on hers as he let his intense gaze weigh her intentions for a while before providing a reply.
Her flattery was well said and well timed, perfectly softening the blow to the man’s ego as she wished to go against what he had said.
“Very well. This time you win. Do not expect this often.” He said simply and truthfully, he could be stubborn most of the time, and he never saw fault with his own logic. Before he allowed her to pull away from his gaze, he reached up and pushed a few strands of her hair back in place. A motion that could be translated as sweet, but for him it was about perfection with her physical beauty. He would not settle for less than perfect.
He let her take the lead, admiring the view for just a few seconds before he followed behind her, taking the stance of loving and protecting soon-to-be husband as she offered her greetings to the Queen on her birthday.
He let her have her moment before he stepped forward, offering a respectful bow for the Queen and her husband as well, the practiced court smile on his face as he offered his well wishes to them both.
“Your Radiance, we are honored to share such a special day with your loyal subjects, and to be able to do so in a presence such as yours. My slaves have delivered our gifts for your special day, and our families spared no expense when providing gifts on such an exemplary day.” He said, the silvered words easily slipping through his lips, practiced charm and grace a second nature to the man due to his family's status. Even before he had been found as the rightful heir, he had had plenty of opportunity to impress at such events. Though as a child he had been less than proper, now a grown man, he knew better. Satisfied with his greetings to the royals, he gave one more respectful bow before he took Mandisa by the arm and moved her away so the next people could pay their respects.
“Wine.” He commanded one of the slaves, who hurried off to find them glasses of the requested drink.
His attention turned back to Mandisa for the moment.
“There are people already talking, whispers about us among the crowds.” He said, a giddy lilt to his voice with a genuine smile creeping in. There were few things that Hena loved in life more than attention being on him.
I should never have looked up at Iahotep. I should have stood up and demanded that the baker be released. Hatshepsut was, after all, chosen by the gods to represent them on earth. Her subjects would believe that the gods were speaking through her and her order would be obeyed. Maybe they really were. Perhaps they had put outrage in her heart, expecting her to stop the man’s arrest. If so, she had failed them and Set had prevailed. The young Queen had no doubt that the god of chaos had influenced both her mother and the council into choosing Iahotep as Pharaoh. That decision was already throwing K’mt into turmoil and his reign had only recently begun. If only Osorsen was here, he would help her overthrow him.
His hand on her shoulder seemed to burn into her flesh, even though his grip had loosened a bit now that he had silently made his point. It didn’t mean this was over. She was going to find a way to save that poor baker and anyone else her husband condemned, even if her defiance resulted in violence. She clenched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Why did everything have to be so hard?
The Colchian Crown Prince standing next to her leaned closer to her. She knew little about him other than that he renowned for his prowess in battle. He would probably berate her for lacking the courage to stand up to her husband, whom he had fought against before. Hatshepsut braced herself for a thinly-veiled insult that never came. Instead, Prince Vangelis seemed to understand what she was going through and commended her for not causing a scene. The people would not be here if they did not believe in this tradition. This was not the time to implement change. Her subjects loved and trusted her. She could help them better by working subtly in the background to change the attitudes of those with the most power.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for your kind words,” she whispered, favoring him with a smile that was a bit on the wan side but hopefully let him know that she had understood his message. Her hands relaxed slightly but remained clasped firmly in her lap. The young Queen could not say too much to him or Iahotep might become jealous. She doubted that the two men were on good terms with each other and her husband’s hand on her shoulder also indicated his possessivenes. She had tried to turn him away from her by being unresponsive in bed, but he still seemed to want the world to know she was his and his alone.
Which she wasn’t.
The next gift was presented by the Prince’s sister, a lovely young woman who had added Kemetic influences to her chiton. “You are most considerate, Your Highness,” she said. One of her slaves took the box from the servant and opened the headdress. Hatshepsut’s eyes widened in delight and she reached out to touch one of the glittering gems. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. It was a personal gift instead of an offering for the gods. The royal family had probably had their slaves present their tribute to the deities. “I can hardly wait to try it on.”
The smile she gave Princess Athanasia was bright and genuine. The gift pleased her. She might be a Queen and the representative of the gods, but she was also a sixteen-year-old girl who loved fine things.
Two of her own subjects approached her next … Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa and Mandisa of Hei Isazari, who were betrothed to each other and made a very attractive couple. Akhenaten and Hatshepsut shared a half-brother, Sutekh, who was now living in the palace after his mother revealed that his true father was the former Pharaoh. Now he was a Prince but no longer the heir of his Hei. That honor was now Akhenaten’s. She had no idea whether or not he was still in contact with Sutekh. Mandisa was quiet and sweet and Hatshepsut had always liked her.
They congratulated and complemented her and she acknowledged them with a smile and a gracious nod. “Thank you for your good wishes and offerings and I congratulate you on your betrothal. The gods will surely bless your union.”
More people were waiting to pay their respects and she had kind words for them too. She would do everything in her power to protect her subjects from her husband’s cruelty. The young Queen loved them even more than they loved her.
Alysanne
Hatshepsut
Alysanne
Hatshepsut
Awards
First Impressions:petite; golden skin, luscious dark hair, expressive eyes, sweet smile
Address: Your Evening Radiance
I should never have looked up at Iahotep. I should have stood up and demanded that the baker be released. Hatshepsut was, after all, chosen by the gods to represent them on earth. Her subjects would believe that the gods were speaking through her and her order would be obeyed. Maybe they really were. Perhaps they had put outrage in her heart, expecting her to stop the man’s arrest. If so, she had failed them and Set had prevailed. The young Queen had no doubt that the god of chaos had influenced both her mother and the council into choosing Iahotep as Pharaoh. That decision was already throwing K’mt into turmoil and his reign had only recently begun. If only Osorsen was here, he would help her overthrow him.
His hand on her shoulder seemed to burn into her flesh, even though his grip had loosened a bit now that he had silently made his point. It didn’t mean this was over. She was going to find a way to save that poor baker and anyone else her husband condemned, even if her defiance resulted in violence. She clenched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Why did everything have to be so hard?
The Colchian Crown Prince standing next to her leaned closer to her. She knew little about him other than that he renowned for his prowess in battle. He would probably berate her for lacking the courage to stand up to her husband, whom he had fought against before. Hatshepsut braced herself for a thinly-veiled insult that never came. Instead, Prince Vangelis seemed to understand what she was going through and commended her for not causing a scene. The people would not be here if they did not believe in this tradition. This was not the time to implement change. Her subjects loved and trusted her. She could help them better by working subtly in the background to change the attitudes of those with the most power.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for your kind words,” she whispered, favoring him with a smile that was a bit on the wan side but hopefully let him know that she had understood his message. Her hands relaxed slightly but remained clasped firmly in her lap. The young Queen could not say too much to him or Iahotep might become jealous. She doubted that the two men were on good terms with each other and her husband’s hand on her shoulder also indicated his possessivenes. She had tried to turn him away from her by being unresponsive in bed, but he still seemed to want the world to know she was his and his alone.
Which she wasn’t.
The next gift was presented by the Prince’s sister, a lovely young woman who had added Kemetic influences to her chiton. “You are most considerate, Your Highness,” she said. One of her slaves took the box from the servant and opened the headdress. Hatshepsut’s eyes widened in delight and she reached out to touch one of the glittering gems. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. It was a personal gift instead of an offering for the gods. The royal family had probably had their slaves present their tribute to the deities. “I can hardly wait to try it on.”
The smile she gave Princess Athanasia was bright and genuine. The gift pleased her. She might be a Queen and the representative of the gods, but she was also a sixteen-year-old girl who loved fine things.
Two of her own subjects approached her next … Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa and Mandisa of Hei Isazari, who were betrothed to each other and made a very attractive couple. Akhenaten and Hatshepsut shared a half-brother, Sutekh, who was now living in the palace after his mother revealed that his true father was the former Pharaoh. Now he was a Prince but no longer the heir of his Hei. That honor was now Akhenaten’s. She had no idea whether or not he was still in contact with Sutekh. Mandisa was quiet and sweet and Hatshepsut had always liked her.
They congratulated and complemented her and she acknowledged them with a smile and a gracious nod. “Thank you for your good wishes and offerings and I congratulate you on your betrothal. The gods will surely bless your union.”
More people were waiting to pay their respects and she had kind words for them too. She would do everything in her power to protect her subjects from her husband’s cruelty. The young Queen loved them even more than they loved her.
I should never have looked up at Iahotep. I should have stood up and demanded that the baker be released. Hatshepsut was, after all, chosen by the gods to represent them on earth. Her subjects would believe that the gods were speaking through her and her order would be obeyed. Maybe they really were. Perhaps they had put outrage in her heart, expecting her to stop the man’s arrest. If so, she had failed them and Set had prevailed. The young Queen had no doubt that the god of chaos had influenced both her mother and the council into choosing Iahotep as Pharaoh. That decision was already throwing K’mt into turmoil and his reign had only recently begun. If only Osorsen was here, he would help her overthrow him.
His hand on her shoulder seemed to burn into her flesh, even though his grip had loosened a bit now that he had silently made his point. It didn’t mean this was over. She was going to find a way to save that poor baker and anyone else her husband condemned, even if her defiance resulted in violence. She clenched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Why did everything have to be so hard?
The Colchian Crown Prince standing next to her leaned closer to her. She knew little about him other than that he renowned for his prowess in battle. He would probably berate her for lacking the courage to stand up to her husband, whom he had fought against before. Hatshepsut braced herself for a thinly-veiled insult that never came. Instead, Prince Vangelis seemed to understand what she was going through and commended her for not causing a scene. The people would not be here if they did not believe in this tradition. This was not the time to implement change. Her subjects loved and trusted her. She could help them better by working subtly in the background to change the attitudes of those with the most power.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for your kind words,” she whispered, favoring him with a smile that was a bit on the wan side but hopefully let him know that she had understood his message. Her hands relaxed slightly but remained clasped firmly in her lap. The young Queen could not say too much to him or Iahotep might become jealous. She doubted that the two men were on good terms with each other and her husband’s hand on her shoulder also indicated his possessivenes. She had tried to turn him away from her by being unresponsive in bed, but he still seemed to want the world to know she was his and his alone.
Which she wasn’t.
The next gift was presented by the Prince’s sister, a lovely young woman who had added Kemetic influences to her chiton. “You are most considerate, Your Highness,” she said. One of her slaves took the box from the servant and opened the headdress. Hatshepsut’s eyes widened in delight and she reached out to touch one of the glittering gems. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. It was a personal gift instead of an offering for the gods. The royal family had probably had their slaves present their tribute to the deities. “I can hardly wait to try it on.”
The smile she gave Princess Athanasia was bright and genuine. The gift pleased her. She might be a Queen and the representative of the gods, but she was also a sixteen-year-old girl who loved fine things.
Two of her own subjects approached her next … Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa and Mandisa of Hei Isazari, who were betrothed to each other and made a very attractive couple. Akhenaten and Hatshepsut shared a half-brother, Sutekh, who was now living in the palace after his mother revealed that his true father was the former Pharaoh. Now he was a Prince but no longer the heir of his Hei. That honor was now Akhenaten’s. She had no idea whether or not he was still in contact with Sutekh. Mandisa was quiet and sweet and Hatshepsut had always liked her.
They congratulated and complemented her and she acknowledged them with a smile and a gracious nod. “Thank you for your good wishes and offerings and I congratulate you on your betrothal. The gods will surely bless your union.”
More people were waiting to pay their respects and she had kind words for them too. She would do everything in her power to protect her subjects from her husband’s cruelty. The young Queen loved them even more than they loved her.
House Drakos’ birthday gift to the Queen of K’mt had been presented yesterday, as chests full of gold and silver would have been too much of a temptation to thieves if they had been on display during the ceremony. They were also too heavy even for brawny servants to carry for more than a short distance. The young Queen had been very gracious but brief with her gratitude. She had looked exhausted and probably wanted to rest. Imeeya had begun ruling her own province at fifteen but she could not even imagine the headaches of governing an entire kingdom at such a tender age, and to be newly married and pregnant as well. She had immense respect for Her Evening Radiance and was also secretly pleased that the Queen was actually shorter than she was.
Before she left, Queen Hatshepsut had commented on the color of her hair and Imeeya had barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Her silver-gold hair was a novelty in a land where most people had dark brown or black tresses and the Kemetics seemed fascinated by the pale hue. Some of them asked her if they could touch it … were they so stupid they thought it felt different than other colors? ... and bolder individuals just reached out and grabbed a lock as she walked by. One little girl had yanked out a hunk of it and run away. Now she surrounded herself with the guards she had brought with her because she needed protection from random hair-snatchers.
The Queen had simply complimented her hair, which Imeeya appreciated. Every now and then, she saw a blonde slave, but their hair was not as light as her own. Now she stood to the side of the dais, flanked by her guards, wearing a dress that had been made for her by a Kemetic dressmaker who lived in Colchis. It was fashioned from the gold of Dolomesa’s mines that had been fashioned into thousands of tiny squares that were linked together by golden rings … a twist on the network gowns of K’mt but far more flashy. Beneath it, she wore a tight flesh-colored shift of Kemetic design. It was so clingy that it was difficult to walk in and took hours of practice before Imeeya was able to walk with grace.
Her jewelry was also made of gold studded with diamonds. Her hair had been twisted into hundreds of tiny braids woven through with thin gold ribbons. The end of each braid was decorated with diamond encrusted golden beads which tinkled with each movement she made. Imeeya had thought of buying a Kemetic wig to cover her unusual hair, but had decided that it would detract from the look she wanted to create and might even insult the natives.
She watched impassively as a man who looked like a baker was dragged away. The Queen looked a bit upset. She was known to be kind … too kind, in Imeeya’s opinion. The baker’s gift was considered inferior and he deserved whatever punishment he was given. He should never have presented a shoddy gift to the gods. Everyone should give the best that they had so that the gods would continue to look favorable on K’mt. Even though, in truth, they didn’t exist. They were false gods, but the people believed in them and trusted in their benevolence. Maybe one day, they would worship the true gods of the Hellenes.
Her cousin Vangelis whispered something to the Queen that seemed to calm her. He was not known for his compassion and she wondered what he had said. Shortly afterwords, Asia approached the young monarch and gave her a gift. Imeeya couldn’t make it out, but it glittered in the light. Why had she not thought of bringing personal gift for the Queen herself? Unfortunately, it was too late now, but there was always next year.
As her cousin moved away, Imeeya called softly: “Asia! Over here!” Immediately, she felt a tug on one of her braids and angrily pushed the hand of a woman away. Would they ever quit fawning over her white-blonde hair?
Alysanne
Imeeya
Alysanne
Imeeya
Awards
First Impressions:lithe; ice-blue eyes; white-blond curls; defiant smile; petite; graceful
Address: Your Her Ladyship
House Drakos’ birthday gift to the Queen of K’mt had been presented yesterday, as chests full of gold and silver would have been too much of a temptation to thieves if they had been on display during the ceremony. They were also too heavy even for brawny servants to carry for more than a short distance. The young Queen had been very gracious but brief with her gratitude. She had looked exhausted and probably wanted to rest. Imeeya had begun ruling her own province at fifteen but she could not even imagine the headaches of governing an entire kingdom at such a tender age, and to be newly married and pregnant as well. She had immense respect for Her Evening Radiance and was also secretly pleased that the Queen was actually shorter than she was.
Before she left, Queen Hatshepsut had commented on the color of her hair and Imeeya had barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Her silver-gold hair was a novelty in a land where most people had dark brown or black tresses and the Kemetics seemed fascinated by the pale hue. Some of them asked her if they could touch it … were they so stupid they thought it felt different than other colors? ... and bolder individuals just reached out and grabbed a lock as she walked by. One little girl had yanked out a hunk of it and run away. Now she surrounded herself with the guards she had brought with her because she needed protection from random hair-snatchers.
The Queen had simply complimented her hair, which Imeeya appreciated. Every now and then, she saw a blonde slave, but their hair was not as light as her own. Now she stood to the side of the dais, flanked by her guards, wearing a dress that had been made for her by a Kemetic dressmaker who lived in Colchis. It was fashioned from the gold of Dolomesa’s mines that had been fashioned into thousands of tiny squares that were linked together by golden rings … a twist on the network gowns of K’mt but far more flashy. Beneath it, she wore a tight flesh-colored shift of Kemetic design. It was so clingy that it was difficult to walk in and took hours of practice before Imeeya was able to walk with grace.
Her jewelry was also made of gold studded with diamonds. Her hair had been twisted into hundreds of tiny braids woven through with thin gold ribbons. The end of each braid was decorated with diamond encrusted golden beads which tinkled with each movement she made. Imeeya had thought of buying a Kemetic wig to cover her unusual hair, but had decided that it would detract from the look she wanted to create and might even insult the natives.
She watched impassively as a man who looked like a baker was dragged away. The Queen looked a bit upset. She was known to be kind … too kind, in Imeeya’s opinion. The baker’s gift was considered inferior and he deserved whatever punishment he was given. He should never have presented a shoddy gift to the gods. Everyone should give the best that they had so that the gods would continue to look favorable on K’mt. Even though, in truth, they didn’t exist. They were false gods, but the people believed in them and trusted in their benevolence. Maybe one day, they would worship the true gods of the Hellenes.
Her cousin Vangelis whispered something to the Queen that seemed to calm her. He was not known for his compassion and she wondered what he had said. Shortly afterwords, Asia approached the young monarch and gave her a gift. Imeeya couldn’t make it out, but it glittered in the light. Why had she not thought of bringing personal gift for the Queen herself? Unfortunately, it was too late now, but there was always next year.
As her cousin moved away, Imeeya called softly: “Asia! Over here!” Immediately, she felt a tug on one of her braids and angrily pushed the hand of a woman away. Would they ever quit fawning over her white-blonde hair?
House Drakos’ birthday gift to the Queen of K’mt had been presented yesterday, as chests full of gold and silver would have been too much of a temptation to thieves if they had been on display during the ceremony. They were also too heavy even for brawny servants to carry for more than a short distance. The young Queen had been very gracious but brief with her gratitude. She had looked exhausted and probably wanted to rest. Imeeya had begun ruling her own province at fifteen but she could not even imagine the headaches of governing an entire kingdom at such a tender age, and to be newly married and pregnant as well. She had immense respect for Her Evening Radiance and was also secretly pleased that the Queen was actually shorter than she was.
Before she left, Queen Hatshepsut had commented on the color of her hair and Imeeya had barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Her silver-gold hair was a novelty in a land where most people had dark brown or black tresses and the Kemetics seemed fascinated by the pale hue. Some of them asked her if they could touch it … were they so stupid they thought it felt different than other colors? ... and bolder individuals just reached out and grabbed a lock as she walked by. One little girl had yanked out a hunk of it and run away. Now she surrounded herself with the guards she had brought with her because she needed protection from random hair-snatchers.
The Queen had simply complimented her hair, which Imeeya appreciated. Every now and then, she saw a blonde slave, but their hair was not as light as her own. Now she stood to the side of the dais, flanked by her guards, wearing a dress that had been made for her by a Kemetic dressmaker who lived in Colchis. It was fashioned from the gold of Dolomesa’s mines that had been fashioned into thousands of tiny squares that were linked together by golden rings … a twist on the network gowns of K’mt but far more flashy. Beneath it, she wore a tight flesh-colored shift of Kemetic design. It was so clingy that it was difficult to walk in and took hours of practice before Imeeya was able to walk with grace.
Her jewelry was also made of gold studded with diamonds. Her hair had been twisted into hundreds of tiny braids woven through with thin gold ribbons. The end of each braid was decorated with diamond encrusted golden beads which tinkled with each movement she made. Imeeya had thought of buying a Kemetic wig to cover her unusual hair, but had decided that it would detract from the look she wanted to create and might even insult the natives.
She watched impassively as a man who looked like a baker was dragged away. The Queen looked a bit upset. She was known to be kind … too kind, in Imeeya’s opinion. The baker’s gift was considered inferior and he deserved whatever punishment he was given. He should never have presented a shoddy gift to the gods. Everyone should give the best that they had so that the gods would continue to look favorable on K’mt. Even though, in truth, they didn’t exist. They were false gods, but the people believed in them and trusted in their benevolence. Maybe one day, they would worship the true gods of the Hellenes.
Her cousin Vangelis whispered something to the Queen that seemed to calm her. He was not known for his compassion and she wondered what he had said. Shortly afterwords, Asia approached the young monarch and gave her a gift. Imeeya couldn’t make it out, but it glittered in the light. Why had she not thought of bringing personal gift for the Queen herself? Unfortunately, it was too late now, but there was always next year.
As her cousin moved away, Imeeya called softly: “Asia! Over here!” Immediately, she felt a tug on one of her braids and angrily pushed the hand of a woman away. Would they ever quit fawning over her white-blonde hair?
