Page 100 of Gift of Dragons
“Friends,” the king murmured, smoothing a hand over his long, pointy beard.
Heba proceeded to give all the reasons why, offering all the advantages that Egypt could provide to Punt, and recounting the treasures Punt could offer to Egypt in return. All simply as a matter of course in diplomacy and trade, precluding any matrimonial ties.
It was unnecessary, she argued. And though Egypt had great respect for the people of Punt, its traditions didn’t encourage widowed queens to marry foreign kings. Because their gods married within the family of gods—brother and sister, mother and son, father and daughter—royalty did the same.
Heba didn’t mention that she thought this tradition to be an ignorant one.
From her own observations and studies, the strongest and fittest of breeds came from a mixture of ancestries. Moreover, in her view, those who proved themselves wisest and most competent to rule should be elected to do so.
In times of war, this typically occurred. In the aftermath, Egypt always enjoyed a renaissance. She did not believe that this sequence of events was mere coincidence.
“Besides,” she said at last, after speaking without interruption for a good long while.
“Where would we live if we did get married? My seat is at Thebes, and your place is here. You would never want to be away from this lush, gorgeous paradise for long, isn’t that so?”
“I have never been away for more than a moon cycle,” the king agreed.
“Then, you see,” Heba pressed softly, “it will not work even if we both wanted it.”
The king stroked his beard again, his shrewd black eyes missing nothing.
“But none of these reasons are the real one,” he surmised.
“You will not marry me because of another man. The one you cannot stop looking at within your guard. The tallest, most muscular warrior, who looks at me as if he wants to tear my head from my shoulders.”
He said this without heat, a small wry smile curling his lips.
Heba’s brows elevated at that.
The king had pinned down the truth within hours of meeting Heba. Nowthatwas impressive.
“Likewise, the handmaiden or court lady who never leaves your side, except for presently because I’ve specifically requested it,” Heba shot back, making her own observations.
“Perhaps she would make a better queen for you instead.”
The king seemed genuinely surprised by her suggestion, as if he’d never considered it before.
But Heba could tell that the idea wasn’t entirely without merit, nor was the king insulted that she should raise it.
“Ati is but a girl,” the king said fondly after a long silence.
“She sees me as a doting older brother since I took her in from neighboring tribes.”
Heba smiled at his protective, purposeful blindness.
“She is a woman,” she said.
“I saw a woman who only had eyes for you on the beach. A woman whose heart is breaking that you might choose another wife.”
The king’s eyes finally shone with real emotion, no longer hidden behind a polite mask.
“How can you know…how can I not see it?”
It was Heba’s turn to smile, with sadness, regret and hope for the future.
“We, all of us, have blind spots where our hearts are concerned. I have been the stupidest of them all.”
“Not that I’m implying the same of you, good king,” she hastened to add.