Chapter Eight: Reconciliation?

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They were certainly the nicest servants quarters Evy had ever seen. Well, the nicest servants quarters that Nefertiri had ever seen. Evy, in this life, hadn’t seen any servants quarters. In fact, these weren’t really the servants quarters at all. There were hardly any servants in the palace. Evy, as one of the few living servants, lived in sumptuously appointed rooms. In the old days, nobility could have lived here. She marveled at the intricate designs on the walls, at the luxurious furniture and golden statues. It was truly beautiful. But it did not matter where she slept, Evy thought. She was still a servant, a slave to Imhotep and Anck-su-namun’s every whim. They forced her to dress as Nefertiri, as she did in Ancient times. She dressed like a Princess but served the woman who had been a concubine to her own father. She could almost appreciate the irony of it. Both Imhotep and Anck-su-namun enjoyed it immensely, watching the Princess they had been forced to serve act as a slave, cleaning the rooms and washing clothes. For Imhotep it was the general satisfaction of being Pharaoh, but it was more personal for Anck-su-namun. Anck-su-namun got special pleasure out of the fact that Nefertiri’s and her own positions were now reversed. They had, after all, never been friends. Although they had tolerated each other, and even had respect for each other, they had never been close. And towards the end, when Nefertiri had suspected Anck-su-namun was betraying on her father, their relations became almost nasty. Evy sighed as she wiped a table top clean. It wasn’t that the labor was difficult or backbreaking. On the contrary, it really wasn’t difficult. What made it so difficult was what her servitude stood for. There was just enough royalty left in Evy to make her cheeks flame in shame and anger at being a slave, when the punishments of others had been so much worse. She found herself thinking indignantly at times, ‘I should not be a slave!’ But then she was ashamed at her own arrogance. In this life she was no one, and even if, at one point, she had been Nefertiri, she was not the same woman now. She was not Nefertiri, but she had Nefertiri’s memories. Imhotep had given her her memories back, so every agonizing moment was lived by two women, the woman Evy was and the princess she had been. Actually, Evy thought, even though for the first few weeks of her confinement both Imhotep and Anck-su-namun had watched and taunted her, at this point both her captors had mostly stopped. Imhotep was very busy and was gone a lot, traveling. Evy did not really know where he went or why, but she certainly knew when he was not in residence to bait her. Anck-su-namun, too, had mostly stopped bothering her, and so Evy had simply gone on with her duties. Evy supposed that they had both gotten tired of watching her polish plates.

But in Anck-su-namun’s case, Evy supposed that her revenge just was not as fun or satisfying as it was supposed to have been. Even though she enjoyed seeing Nefertiri as a servant, Anck-su-namun realized that Evy was not Nefertiri. She understood that Alex was innocent. Torturing strangers just wasn’t as fun as getting revenge on the people you really hated, Evy thought bitterly. Actually, the only person who was the same as in Ancient times was Imhotep.

But as frustrating as it was to clean the same rooms over and over, Evy was glad for something to do. It was better than being imprisoned, she reflected. “Mum, can we stop now? She’s down in the gardens and he won’t be back for days.” Alex’s whining, pleading voice broke into her brooding thoughts. They both knew who “he” and “she” were. Evy looked out over the balcony and could see Anck-su-namun sitting in the palace gardens by a fountain. She could see her clearly but she was certainly far enough away from the palace not to hear them. “Alex, we can rest for a moment now.” Evy sunk into a soft armchair, breathing a sigh of relief. Alex smiled and came and sat on the floor by the chair, resting his head on her lap. Alex. Her poor baby. He was hardly a baby. He would be ten soon, Evy realized. The one merciful thing Imhotep had done was allow Alex to stay and live with her. If Evy had been stripped of her only child, she did not know what she would have done. Well, actually, perhaps it wasn’t mercy that had prompted them to do that. Anck-su-namun allowed Evy Alex so that she would be submissive. She threatened her with Alex’s life if Evy did not comply with their demands. Evy was submissive to save Alex’s life. But, thinking on it, Evy really wasn’t worried for Alex’s life. First, by harming Alex, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun knew that Evy would stop serving them and stop at nothing to get her revenge—and they did not want that. They wanted her as a docile slave too much. And second, Evy knew, deep down, that Anck-su-namun wouldn’t hurt Alex. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t make threats—the former concubine had always been good with weapons and fighting, and she had always been ambitious, tough, conniving, and power hungry.

She had also always been a good actress, training to keep her emotions disguised under a placid surface. But deep down Evy realized, with Nefertiri’s memories, that Anck-su-namun was not full of blood lust. She could be cold and hard and unforgiving, but she was not one who relished killing. Meela had been the one who was the murderess, who had wanted to burn Evy for pure spite.

Anck-su-namun’s motivations were subtler and more understandable, and the distance Evy felt in many ways from her previous life allowed her to understand them without much anger. Anck-su-namun had killed Nefertiri’s father to free herself and get revenge for her imprisonment. Now, more than anyone, Evy understood the helpless anger than came with belonging to another person.

Not that Anck-su-namun’s motivations justified the murder of the Pharaoh, but Evy acknowledged that Anck-su-namun’s anger at the conditions of her previous life were understandable, and even felt a little sorry for her.

So Evy was not really afraid that her former teacher would try to hurt Alex. She would threaten them to get what she wanted, certainly, and she could draw blood when she thought she was morally justified. But when it came to actually killing an innocent child, she would not go through with it. There was something about Anck-su-namun that told Evy that she was much more bark than bite. Her anger, really, was not directed at Anck-su-namun, but at her former self, Meela. In fact, most of her anger was directed at Imhotep. Although Anck-su-namun was the love of his life, his Queen, and his heart, she was not his mind. She did not advise him or have a say in the way he ruled the world. Everything that had been done this time around had been done by Imhotep. Evy remembered how when they had come for her and Rick, amidst the screaming and the mummies and the gunfire, Anck-su-namun had just stood there looking a little lost, afraid, and confused.

This, Evy realized, was one great advantage she had: Anck-su-namun did not yet know how she had been reincarnated, or who Meela was, and what had happened her and Imhotep less than a year and a half ago. So over her captor Evelyn O’Connell held a secret, and a potentially most valuable weapon. At Alex’s movement Evy was jerked from her thoughts, and she looked down at the boy hugging her legs. She was suddenly filled with a breathtaking, intense love, a feeling of relief and joy washing through her body. She loved her little boy so much. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Evy asked, stroking his soft blond hair. “I miss daddy,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly. Evy’s heart tugged and constricted within her chest. Rick. Her own love.

Her husband, the father of her child, the man who had risked his life for her a thousand times. The man who had urged her to run, to go, to save herself as Ahm Shere crumbled into the desert. The man who had touched her on her wedding night and told her she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The man who had held her as she died. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had done too much crying. But the fact was that Evy did not know if her husband was dead or alive. As soon as they had been taken to Hamanuptra, after being abucted from London, they had been separated. Rick had been dragged off. And she had not seen him since. It had happened so fast, she had had no chance to say goodbye. In a flash, the love of her life had been ripped from her. And neither Imhotep nor Anck-su-namun ever mentioned his name again. That was what made Evy the most afraid. Rick was a fighter. If he wasn’t causing Imhotep trouble, if Imhotep and Anck-su-namun weren’t worried about him or afraid he might hurt them–as he had done every time in the past–then he was either entirely defeated or he was dead. And Evy could not imagine Rick entirely defeated. She chocked back a sob, but Alex could feel the quick convulsion of her small body. “I miss him too,” she whispered, the emotions condensing into a lump in her throat. Four little words, for all the loneliness and fear and love that Evy felt.

At her words Alex climbed up into her lap, snuggling into her embrace. “You’re getting a bit old to do that, aren’t you?” she said, smiling through her tears as Alex made himself comfortable in her lap and put his arms around her neck. They sat like that for a long time, just holding each other for comfort. The other person was all that they had left. ***

“How is your work coming along?” Anck-su-namun asked as she entered the room, leaning up against the frame of the door. Evy looked up from the bed she was standing over, smoothing the soft blankets. Evy hadn’t been expecting this, she hadn’t even spoken to the Queen in several weeks.

Evy stood looking in her in vague surprise, and in the quiet that followed the two women silently assessed each other. Anck-su-namun, Evy admitted to herself, looked gorgeous. Her skin was smooth and rich and glowing, her dark hair rich and vibrant, cascading down her back and over her shoulders.

For a moment, Evy allowed herself to feel a hint of jealousy over her captor’s luscious form and curvaceous body. She could see why Imhotep would risk the anger of the Gods for the love of this woman. She was captivating. Evy found it hard to tear her gaze away from the other woman’s dark, enigmatic eyes.

But, Evy thought ruefully, old ways die hard. Even though she was now Great Wife of the Pharaoh, Mother of the night and of the day, and Queen of the world, the former concubine Anck-su-namun still carried herself and walked with an unmistakable air of confident sexuality. Her every movements hinted at sensual pleasure–the way she cocked her head, revealing lengths of smooth throat, the way her curved lips parted just slightly, the hand resting low on her hips. She might not even realize it herself, Evy thought, but Anck-su-namun was still very much a part of the old life she now claimed to reject.

But still, Evy envied her confidence. While Evy herself had always been slender, she did not have Anck-su-namun’s raw, gorgeous sexuality. She had always been timid, bookish, self-conscious of her body. There was something empowering about the unhindered, proud sway of Anck-su-namun’s form, her comfort with her own body, its movements of unmistakable sensuality.

But suddenly Evy’s thoughts returned to herself, and what she must look like. She was dressed as Nefertiri, in a beautiful gown with gold bangles on her wrists, arms, and ankles. But her hair was frazzled and unbound, she wore no makeup, her face had new lines from fatigue and from worry. She must look like a mess, nothing like the immaculate Queen before her. And, against her own will, a shame rose up in her.

A shame that she, a Princess, should look worse than a low, worthless concubine.

‘Stop it!’ Evy scolded herself, ashamed at her own thoughts. Nefertiri’s thoughts, springing into her mind unbidden. In this life she was no Princess. She was a servant. And it did not matter how she looked anyway. But age-old haughtiness and pride remained within Evy, a stubborn reminder of who she had been.

“Everything’s fine,” she said curtly.

There was again silence in the room.

Evy and Alex were the only people in the world who did not bow to the Pharaoh and his Queen. There had never been anything spoken between them, no arrangement had been reached. But there were certain rules between them, born of their relationships from a previous lifetime. Evy would never bow to them, and they would never ask her. “And the boy?” she asked, looking pointedly to where Alex was sitting on the floor, not cleaning anything. Evy sighed, turned and faced the other woman fully. “The work will get done,” she said forcefully, looking straight into her gaze. Anck-su-namun cocked her head slightly, raising one eyebrow. The silence, more than any words, was a threat. Alex stood up quickly, brushing dust from his trousers, and walked unsteadily towards the bed to help his mother.

“Well, that is your job now, Princess. Let’s hope it is done to my satisfaction.” Her voice was low and measured, and slightly taunting, but completely without anger.

Evy stared at her, wanting to give a biting remark, but she realized that the vague threat was a response to her own curt words. “You never even come in here,” she said honestly, her words spoken clearly with no intent to provoke. Anck-su-namun stared back at her, her face cold and impassive. Both Imhotep and his bride were exceptionally good at hiding their emotions, Evy thought.

But the mask broke and Anck-su-namun sighed. “I know. This place is just so big.” She stopped, leaving the remaining words unsaid. But Evy heard them as if they had been shouted, echoing through the small chamber. There is no one to come and live here with me. This grand Palace is empty. Imhotep is all I have, but he is often gone for many weeks. I am isolated. There is nothing to do here. All of the people I knew are dead. You are one of the few people who speak my language. I am Queen, but there is no joy in my power. I am just so...alone.

And the look on Anck-su-namun’s face filled Evy with pity. Pity for a woman who, theoretically at least, was her enemy. For a woman who wanted her humiliated, who had destroyed the world in her search for power. For a woman who had killed her father.

But the Anck-su-namun who stood before her was not the woman who wanted or had done those things. She was a lonely woman who wanted someone to connect to. And was it so irrational that she wanted to connect to Nefertiri, a woman who knew her past, had known her, had known all the people who were important to her?

This woman loved Imhotep but was completely dominated by him. She was so lost in the new world that she let Imhotep do whatever he wanted. She was so lost she would turn to Nefertiri for comfort. And in the silence Evy heard the unspoken question: Why were we never friends?

But maybe it was only Evy herself who was asking it.

“Yes, it is. Dust gathers much faster in the emptiness,” she said.

Anck-su-namun gave her a small, rueful smile. There was nothing more to say, but still, the Queen lingered in the presence of her servant. After another quiet moment, she turned to leave. Just as she was about to disappear into the shadows, she stopped and turned around, speaking the last words and she walked backwards down the dark hallway.

“It is good to see people again. It almost feels like Ancient times.” And the childish hopefulness in Anck-su-namun’s voice for a time long past pained Evy in a way she could not describe.

And then she was gone. Evy stared after her retreating form, surprised at her tenderness for a woman who she had never especially liked, her mind swarming with suddenly vivid Ancient memories. But the mood was interrupted. “Gee, mum, what was that about?” Alex asked, wiping his hands on his pants.

Evy smiled tenderly. “I don’t know,” she said, bending over and planting a kiss on his forehead. Before their captivity, Alex didn’t like his mother to kiss him too much or Rick to ruffle his hair. But now, he didn’t mind, and Evy sensed he almost welcomed it.

So Alex wasn’t quite old enough to understand the undercurrents of their seemingly simple conversation. Or maybe it was just that Evy and Anck-su-namun were connected in ways that Alex could not penetrate, connected and bound together by cycles of time and reincarnation and the shared history of a painful past.

She could hear Anck-su-namun’s thoughts as though they had been spoken aloud.

‘What exactly connects us?’ Evy wondered. She added a hug to her kiss, holding Alex fiercely. ‘I am not Nefertiri,’ she reminded herself adamantly. ‘Whatever tenderness I feel for her, and whatever amount of time has passed, she killed my father. And she supported the man who took away my husband. Even if she does not wish to be, she is my enemy.’

And Evy hardened her heart against the Queen, the woman bound to her soul through millennia.

Across the palace, Anck-su-namun stood at her balcony, watching the sun on the horizon. She stood, staring out into the endless expanses of desert. ‘I must not be weak,’ she chastised herself. ‘Just because I am lonely does not mean I should turn to the woman who would kill me if she could. Her family and dynasty crushed and ruined my life. And no matter what she pretends, in her is Nefertiri.’

And the former concubine hardened her heart against her servant, a former Princess of Egypt, as she stood alone on her balcony.

She stood there until the sun was completely gone from the sky.

***