Queen of Ashes by Eleanor Herman

Author:Eleanor Herman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

PART III

Chapter Eight

LAILA EXAMINES THE fine faience necklaces on the tray before her. Which one would be best? She asks herself, trying to ignore the caustic chemical smells that are enough to turn her stomach. In the factory behind the shop, workers create a paste of ground quartz, lime and natron salt to glaze clay objects in kilns belching black smoke. It doesn’t smell pretty, but the faience—in colors from pale green to bright blue—is as smooth and gleaming as the most precious gemstones.

She finally settles on one, a wide collar of five rows of long, bright turquoise-colored stones interspersed with pale green falcons of Horus and gold beads. Egyptian faience is prized by King Seb, ruler of Kush, the dark-skinned warrior nation far to the south where barley and wheat still grow. She will send this necklace along with her embassy taking all her jewels and gold cups—anything the king might want—in return for grain.

Immediately after the irrigation system’s destruction, Laila found Brehan and told him that Riel had dared her to sleep in his bed and nothing had happened between them. Brehan said grimly, “Typical of him to find a way to trap you even though you didn’t do anything wrong.” But then relief flooded his face and he smiled at her.

Next she ejected Riel from the palace guest quarters for putting the butterfly in her hair. He merely shrugged when she commanded him to go. But instead of leaving Sharuna, he rented a palatial house in town, and Laila, afraid of his powers, let him be. She hasn’t heard a word from him since then. Then she and Brehan got to work on repairing the irrigation system. It took only twenty-one days to repair what took three months to build, and tomorrow, water will be flowing freely down the canals. Still, it is too late. The sun has scorched the tender wheat and barley seedlings to a crunchy yellow, all except for a patch nearest the river that the slaves have watered by hand—grain for the princess and her top advisers.

When Brehan asked them to water the rest of the grain, too—making the long trips from the Nile shore out to the fields, the hundreds of pairs of feet trampled some of the plants. Worse, no matter how many trips they made, no amount of water carried by hand could compare with the gurgling flow running down irrigation canals or stave off the blistering sun in the cloudless Egyptian sky.

For three weeks now, every evening Brehan has attempted to bring a soaking rain to the fields. Once he created the lightest sprinkling that merely laid the dust for a few minutes, and the effort caused him to fall to the ground completely worn out.

Mehmut, the factory owner, rubs his hands unctuously and asks, “Has Her Highness made a choice?”

“This one,” she says. “Package it for a royal recipient.” His wizened brown face crinkles into a smile as he whisks it away.

Behind her, Sada and Sarina play with necklaces and scarab bracelets.

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