The Heretic Queen Read Online Free Page B

cheeks.
    Iset smirked. "You may think you're great friends with Ramesses, hunting and swimming in the lake together, but he's marrying me. And I've already consulted with the priests," she said. "They've given me a charm for every possible event."
    Asha exclaimed, "Do you think Nefertari is going to try and give you the evil eye?"
    The other students in the edduba laughed, and Iset drew herself up to her fullest height. "She can try! All of you can try," she said viciously. "It won't make any difference. I'm wasting my time in this edduba now."
    "You certainly are." A shadow darkened the doorway, then Henuttawy appeared in her red robes of Isis. She glanced across the room at us, and a lion could not have looked at a mouse with any less interest. "Where is your tutor?" she demanded.
    Iset moved quickly to the side of the High Priestess, and I noticed that she had begun to paint her eyes the same way that Henuttawy did, with long sweeps of kohl extending to her temples. "Gone to see the scribes," she answered eagerly.
    Henuttawy hesitated. She walked over to my reed mat and looked down. "Princess Nefertari. Still studying your hieroglyphs?"
    "No. I'm studying my cuneiform."
    Asha laughed, and Henuttawy's gaze flicked to him. But he was taller than the other boys, and there was an intelligence in his glare that unnerved her. She turned back to me. "I don't know why you waste your time, especially when you'll only become a priestess in a run-down temple like Hathor's."
    "As always, it is charming to see you, my lady." Our tutor had returned with a handful of scrolls. He laid them on a low table, as Henuttawy turned to face him.
    "Ah, Paser. I was just telling Princess Nefertari to be diligent in her studies. Unfortunately, Iset does not have time for that anymore."
    "What a shame," Paser replied, looking at Iset's discarded papyrus. "Today, I believe she was going to progress to three lines of cuneiform."
    The students snickered, and Henuttawy hurried from the edduba with Iset in tow.
    "There is no cause for laughing," Paser said sharply, and the room fell silent. "We may all go back to our translations now. When you are finished, come to the front of the room and bring your papyrus. Then you may begin work on Emperor Muwatallis's second letter."
    I tried to concentrate, but tears blurred my vision. I didn't want anyone to see how much Iset's words had hurt, so I kept my head low, even when Baki made a hissing noise at me. He wants help now, I thought. But would he even glance at me outside the edduba?
    I finished my translation and approached Paser, handing him my sheet.
    He smiled approvingly. "Excellent, as always." I glanced back at the other students and wondered if I detected resentment in their eyes. "I must warn you about this next letter, however. There is an unflattering reference to your aunt."
    "Why should I care? I'm nothing like her," I said defensively.
    "I wanted to be sure you understood. It seems the scribes forgot to take it out."
    "She was a heretic," I said, "and whatever words the emperor has for her, I am sure they are justified."
    I returned to my reed mat, then skimmed the letter, searching for familiar names. Nefertiti was mentioned at the bottom of the papyrus, and so was my mother. I held my breath as I read Emperor Muwatallis's words.
     
You threaten us with war, but our god Teshub has watched over Hatti for a thousand years, while your gods were banished by Pharaoh Akhenaten. What makes you think that they have forgiven his heresy? It may be that Sekhmet, your goddess of war, has abandoned you completely. And what of Mutnodjmet, Nefertiti's sister? Your people allowed her to become a queen when all of Egypt knows she serviced your Heretic King in his temple as well as his private chamber. Do you really think your gods have forgiven this? Will you risk war with us when we have treated our own gods with respect?
     
    I glanced up at Paser, and in his expression seemed to flicker a trace of regret. But