Aislinn Kerry In the Shadow of the Sun

HADOW

… I spread my hand above his heart and kissed the skin between

my fingers. Slowly, I slid a hand down my side and found the stake in
my kilt’s deep pleats. My fingers brushed over the hard wood. I
grasped it and pulled it free of the cloth, watching Aten closely.

He still didn’t stir. I kissed his chest once more, then positioned the

point of the stake between my fingers.

Aten stiffened and I felt opportunity slipping away from me. I

poised the tip of the stake in the space between two ribs, grasped the
shaft in both hands, and leaned all my weight against it.

There was a moment’s resistance, then it gave beneath me and I

fell forward. He grunted in surprise—only that, nothing more.

I scrambled up, shaking with the knowledge of what I’d done. But

the sight before me made me shake even harder. The stake hadn’t
driven into him, it had shattered, and Aten’s chest wasn’t even
scratched.

No, I thought, dizzy. It’s impossible.
Aten picked a splinter up from his chest. His brow quirked. “That’s

what this was all about?”

I could only stare at him, unable to speak.
His lips curved, a wry smile. “All this. I supposed there was some

point behind it, but… ” He rolled the splinter between his fingers, then
flicked it away. “I admit, I didn’t expect that.”

I slid backward to the foot of the bed, watching him, waiting for

his retaliation.

He sat up and brushed the splinters from his chest and the bed.

“Well? If you are intent upon killing me, the least you could do is tell
me why… ”

LSO

ISLINN

ERRY

A King’s Ransom

Smoke

IN THE SHADOW

OF THE SUN

AISLINN KERRY

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

HADOW

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-61124-096-2

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For my writing buddies, who kick my butt when I slow

and pick me up when I stumble. I couldn’t do this without you.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 1

A gong sounded, resonating through the chamber and

announcing Aten’s return from his vigil at the Temple of Amun-
Re. I stood in attendance with the others, my back straight and my
face impassive, trying to ignore the way the stake hidden in the
folds of my kilt brushed my thigh. A number of priests led the
procession and I looked away. If anyone saw the flash of
recognition on my face as my temple brothers entered, I’d give
myself away.

The gong rang again, louder and more resonant. I forced my

gaze up and looked past the priests to the double-file line of men
who strode through the doors and fanned across the width of the
palace hall. They were all identical, from the pearlescent masks
that glittered in the torchlight to the bronze robes and gloves that

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

covered every spot of skin. Each even wore the same tall
headdress, made in bronze and gold to mimic the double crown of
our united kingdom.

One of them was Aten, our pharaoh, who called himself our

god and once a year deigned to play at being mortal. The identical
dress that he and his attendants wore was meant to prevent anyone
from knowing which of them was he, but it was pointless. I didn’t
need to see his face to know. It was evident in the way the others
deferred to him, the way he strode confidently into our midst while
the rest moved with hesitation and always kept him in their sights.
He only had to make the slightest gesture, and they rushed to bring
him whatever he might need.

He insisted upon the masks and the robes, but it didn’t matter.

We all knew who our king was, whether he hid his skin or not.

Other attendants, dressed as they ought to be and not in that

ridiculous disguise, moved amongst us distributing food and wine.
Celebrants around me drank and laughed, and why shouldn’t they?
This was the Beautiful Festival of Opet, and the Nile had flooded
its banks once more. It was a time of gaiety and prosperity for all
of Thebes, but I had a stake pressed to my thigh and I couldn’t
make myself pretend to be glad.

When I was offered wine, I took it and drank deeply, to wash

the bitterness of my task from my palate. I was a priest, not a
warrior, and I cared little for this.

But I was a priest, and had dedicated my life to the gods.

Sometimes that meant more than just worshipping them.
Sometimes that meant defending them.

I would do what I must.
I moved across the room, drawing closer to him but holding

back. I watched the way people moved about him, careful and

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wary even as they smiled and pretended they didn’t know who he
was. The way he threw his head back and the hall rang with his
laughter when a serving girl dropped her pitcher and shattered it
upon the floor. She turned as red as the wine and rushed from the
room, and he continued to laugh behind that expressionless mask.

I skirted around the spreading puddle of spilled wine. Aten

watched the other servants hurry to clean up the mess as though it
were a performance put on for his amusement. That girl might lose
her position over this mishap, and he stood there laughing like it
didn’t matter at all.

I set my jaw, my purpose renewed, and held onto that fire of

outrage as I moved forward again.

He turned and caught my eye. I froze like a cornered mouse,

unable to move. His eye blazed at me from behind the mask, as hot
as the sun, as dark as the flood plains. It was almost easy to believe
that he was truly the god that he claimed to be, with the power of
his gaze on mine.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. Laughter or

speculation? I didn’t like the prospect of either. He moved toward
me, sinuous as a snake. I moved back instinctively.

He laughed. Not like before, when he’d thrown his head back

and the entire hall had heard him. This laugh was low and throaty
and meant for me alone. He advanced toward me with measured
steps, but I halted my retreat and made myself stand as though I
didn’t know him. As though he were not my king, and possibly a
god, and as though I had not come here tonight to kill him.

He didn’t stop until he stood just before me, the hem of his

robes brushing against my feet. He tipped his head to the side and
watched me through the kohl-lined eyeholes in his mask.

“You are such a grim little thing.” Amusement warmed his

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voice. “Won’t you celebrate?” He took a pitcher of wine from the
hands of a passing servant and poured it for me himself. All the
while his eyes were on me and they were laughing.

When my cup was full, he returned the pitcher to the servant

and watched me, waiting.

Did he wait for me to drink? I hardened my expression and met

his gaze unflinching. He could wait all he liked, but I would not.

Time stretched, and the revelers around us seemed to slow until

it was only he and I, watching each other like hunter and prey.

He thought he was the hunter here tonight. He was wrong.
His eyes widened, but I didn’t think for a moment that it was

surprise. I imagined him raising his brows behind the cover of the
mask, regarding me with cool speculation as I stood there with his
wine in my glass and would not drink.

One cup was for courage, but two would ruin what remained of

my nerves. I needed a steady hand, if I was to do this.

“Forgive me,” I said at last, breaking the stalemate between us.

I handed my cup off to a passing attendant. “I don’t have the
stomach for it.”

He moved a step closer, his shoulder brushing mine. I resisted

the urge to pull away, even if it was only the cloth of his robes that
I touched.

“The wine? Or the celebrating?”
Neither. Both. “It goes to my head.”
He leaned in. I kept my gaze straight ahead, refusing to meet

his eye when we stood this close. The lifeless lips of his mask
brushed my cheek, and he whispered, “All the more reason to
drink, don’t you think?”

I turned sharply, putting a breath of space between us. I may

have been the hunter tonight, but he was still dangerous. If he

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knew what I was here for, if he so much as suspected…

I couldn’t risk giving myself away. I reached out, borrowing

courage I did not possess. I took the wine from my king’s own
hand and drank the cup dry. Then I met his gaze, held it. It was a
challenge, and I waited to see how he would respond.

For an instant, he stared at me as though he could not believe

I’d done it. And then he laughed, unlike any other we’d heard that
night. Those had been intentional, calculating. This was a true
laugh. It made his shoulders shake and his knees bend. He braced a
hand against the nearest pillar as it bent him double.

When at last he’d regained composure, he lifted a gloved hand

and brushed the cheek of his mask. I wondered if I’d made him cry
with his mirth.

“Grim you may be, but you are thoroughly delightful all the

same. Come.” His hand slipped into mine, and he pulled. I knew
better than to think it was a request.

I held my place. When he tugged again, I twisted my hand so it

slipped from his. He stopped and turned back to me.

“You will not?” The tenor of his voice changed, as though he

smiled behind that implacable mask. “You have taken my wine.
The least you can do is replace it with your company.”

I paused, long enough to consider. Already, the effects of the

second cup were turning me loose and limber, inducing my tongue
to run free and voice my true thoughts. The effects would only
grow worse the more time I allowed to pass. I couldn’t afford to
stall.

I made a show of relenting, allowing my shoulders to drop and

gnawing the inside of my lip as though indecisive.

His gaze caught on it, blazing with renewed intensity as I let

the flesh slide between my teeth. He held his hand out to me again.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

I took it, reaching haltingly before I placed my hand in his, so

he’d believe the victory. His eyes shone bright with it, and I knew
I’d succeeded.

He drew me into a corner of the hall that was as secluded as we

could get without leaving the festivities. He pressed me back
against a broad pillar, putting its bulk between us and the rest of
the celebrants. Except for the noise of conversation echoing around
us, it was almost as though we truly were alone.

My heart raced as I stared at him, wondering what he intended

with me. I couldn’t read his expression with that mask covering all
but his eyes. I might have misjudged him.

Whatever he intended, I’d brought it on myself. I’d goaded

him. I meant to do far worse. Did he suspect? No, surely not. I’d
hidden the stake well in the pleats of my kilt. He couldn’t have
noticed it.

He moved in, his chest brushing mine. I pressed my back

against the pillar. The etchings bit my bare shoulders, but I didn’t
flee. I couldn’t even if he’d allowed it. I stared at him, his face
much too close to mine, and his eyes narrowed with speculation as
he tested me. I swallowed the stone in my throat and waited to see
what he’d do.

He brought his hands up and framed my face between them. I

shuddered and forced myself still. His thumbs brushed the corners
of my eyes, shutting them.

He smelled of frankincense, and his hands were gentler than I’d

have expected. Still I waited, tense with fear of what he might
mean to do, here where none would bear witness.

One hand left my face, and a moment later he leaned in.

Something firm brushed against my mouth. I thought it was the
mask, until the lips parted and his tongue swept across mine.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

There was something like summer lightning in his kiss. Sharp,

electric, dangerous. I brought my hands up, and only barely
stopped myself from pushing him back.

I wanted this. I needed the closeness. It would bring with it the

opportunity that I needed, the chance to catch him with his guard
down. I could bear his kisses, if it might allow me to fulfill my
duty.

His hands tightened on the sides of my face, and his lips

pressed harder to mine. I shivered, parted for him, and thought, No,
it’s not such a hard burden to bear, after all.

His kiss generated its own kind of heat, rising up like the Nile’s

waters until it flooded over me. I curled my fingers into his
shoulders and pulled him closer, and it took hardly any conscious
effort at all.

I didn’t like him. But there was no denying my body enjoyed

his touch. It would make what I must do harder, in some ways. But
it would also make it easier.

I shut my eyes and opened to his kiss. I let myself forget I was

in the hall of the pharaoh’s own palace, that the man I kissed was
no man at all, and certainly no god. I let myself pretend that the
hardness of his mouth on mine was due to nothing more than
strength, and that I kissed someone I truly desired.

He groaned against my mouth. I almost wanted to tease him for

it—the mighty pharaoh, god incarnate, brought low by a priest’s
kiss. But we were both pretending that he was not who he was.
Before I could forget myself and break the pretense, he drew back
and laid his thumbs over my eyelids.

I drew deep breaths, shuddering and blind. When he took his

fingers from my eyes, I opened them. He had his mask in place
again, everything but his eyes hidden away. I wanted to snatch it

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

off his face and tell him what a fool he was for insisting on it. I
wanted to look on his face and see that the kiss had affected him as
much as it had me.

The mask’s visage looked on me, cool and unaffected. “Tell

me, why are you here if not to drink the pharaoh’s wine and enjoy
his hospitality?”

“To honor Amun,” I answered him quietly, “and rejoice in the

season of inundation.”

He froze. My heart pounded a quick beat as I wondered if I’d

gone too far, goaded him too well.

Then, as though he realized he risked giving himself away,

flexed his shoulders and relaxed. He skimmed his graven lips
along the edge of my ear, too much like a kiss for me to suppress
my reaction.

“Is this how you rejoice?” I knew I couldn’t feel the touch of

his breath as he murmured in my ear, but it seemed as though I
could. A shiver slid down my spine. He laughed, and I shut my
eyes. “Ah, I should hate to see you in a somber mood, my grim
one!”

“I rejoice as pleases me.”
“And does it? Please you?”
I forced a smile so bright he would know it must be false.

“Greatly.”

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that I liked far better than his

insincere laughter. “It pleases me to drink wine and dance and
listen to the musicians.” He slid a gloved finger along the line of
my jaw. “What pleasure do you take in standing apart and
watching from afar?”

Heat flared across my skin beneath his touch. For the gods and

for my country, I looked him in the eye and I lied. “I find the

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company quite enjoyable.”

He gestured over his shoulder, toward where the rest of the

party still reveled. “And the others? How do you find their
company?”

He was fishing for compliments, but I answered him honestly,

even though I knew it would only please him. “Tedious.”

He chuckled again, much too pleased with himself. His hands

settled on my shoulders, slid down over my chest and stomach. His
fingers brushed my waist, urging me toward him. “What is your
name?”

“Seth.” That, too, was the truth, though perhaps it might have

been wiser if I’d lied.

The corners of his eyes wrinkled, and I knew he was smiling.

“Seth.” He spoke my name slowly, rolling it about on his tongue
like wine. His fingers pressed against my waist. “Shall we find
someplace less tedious to take pleasure in one another’s
company?” He lifted one hand from my side and cupped my cheek.
His silk-gloved thumb brushed over my lip. “It is the Beautiful
Festival of Opet. I should hate to think you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

My mouth was dry as the desert. I couldn’t do anything but

nod, and even that took an effort. I could only hope that he took
my awkwardness for shyness.

My skin prickled as he led me out into the hall. I was alone

with him now, truly alone. It was what I wanted, but also what I
feared. There was no one to stop me—but nor was there anyone to
help me, if things went wrong.

If I failed… He would kill me. Perhaps, if I were lucky and he

were feeling generous, he would be quick about it. But I’d heard
the rumors people whispered in dark alleys, about the sorts of
things he did to those who displeased him. Everyone seemed to

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have some distant, dubious relation who had suffered Aten’s
wrath.

His sudden grip on my arm made me jump, and fear rose to

choke my throat. But when I turned, the heat in his eyes held
nothing of anger. My mind may have wandered from the purpose
of our departure, but his clearly had not.

He stopped and cupped his hand around the back of my neck.

The silk he wore was slippery on my skin, but the strength in his
fingers was unmistakable.

“Close your eyes, Seth.”
I pushed against his grip. “Why?”
His voice warmed with amusement. “Because I want you to.”
“There’s no point in it.”
He rocked back, his eyes widening. I could imagine the way his

brows shot up behind the mask’s smooth surface.

I blew out a sharp breath. “It doesn’t matter. I know who you

are.”

His gaze sharpened, pinning me in place. “Do you, then?”
“Everyone does,” I snapped. “You’re not fooling a soul.”
He didn’t move at all for a moment, and his gaze gave nothing

away. I buried one hand in the folds of my kilt, groping for the
stake in case he took my candor badly. I hadn’t meant to do this
here, two steps beyond the pharaoh’s celebration. But I would, if
he forced my hand.

A long moment passed, and then Aten gave a forced laugh.

“Well, you might humor me, at least.” He curved his hand around
the side of my throat, fingers pressing against my vertebrae, his
thumb braced against the edge of my jaw. “If you know who I
am.”

“I am not intimidated by you.” I wanted it to be the truth, but it

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

was mostly a lie. “If I were, you’d not have taken so much interest
in me.”

“Perhaps.” His grip gentled. The intensity of his gaze eased.

“Shut your eyes, Seth,” he said again. “Or are you in the habit of
kissing with them open?”

I blew out my breath and did as he asked. I told myself it was

only because I preferred not to use the stake until we had found
privacy.

He pressed his fingers into the back of my neck, drawing me

closer. His lips slid along mine, parted. I slid my tongue out to seek
entry to his mouth so he wouldn’t doubt my interest.

The sound he made was pure appreciation. He pressed his

mouth harder to mine, opened it wider. I brought a hand up,
wanting to curve it against the back of his skull, and made a low
sound of protest when my fingers encountered only the silks that
swathed him from head to toe. I pressed my hand harder, so I could
feel him through them, and let my irritation fuel the kiss.

Aten broke away abruptly but didn’t release me. Urgency made

his words tight and rapid. “If you are determined to remove my
disguise, you might at least wait until we are somewhere you can
see the task to completion.”

I didn’t reply, just stumbled down the hall after him until he

dragged me into what could only have been the royal apartments.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 2

“You watch me as though I were a cobra.”
I watched the lamplight play across his silks and shimmer on

the surface of his mask. “Aren’t you?” He was as dangerous and
unpredictable as one, to be sure.

He reached a hand to me. “Come here and see for yourself.”
It took all my will to move forward when every instinct urged

me to flee. I stopped half a step before him. He folded my hands in
his, and brought them up to the edges of the mask.

I drew it away slowly, and looked on the true face of Aten. His

skin was wan in the way that only the wealthy and privileged could
manage, those with the luxury of spending their days indoors and
who could afford servants to hold a canopy over their heads when
they were obliged to step outside. But even here, in the flickering

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

light of his oil lamp, he could hardly be mistaken for a man. The
light reflected off his face strangely, made it luminous and
unearthly, as though he stood in a shaft of midday sun while the
rest of the world was thick with shadows.

I had seen him in daylight, at celebrations I was obliged to

attend. When he stepped out into the sun, he shone like a god.

He waited, allowing me to look my fill, but though he didn’t

speak or gesture, it was still strange to look at him. Even at rest, his
expression was always in motion, as fluid and changing as the
river. The mask was a remarkable likeness, but it gave the
unsettling impression of a statue come to life. I reached for the
mock crown that rested upon his head and drew that away, too,
then pulled at his headdress.

It helped to strip off these trappings and reveal the man

underneath, even if he was not a true man at all. I drew the mantle
over his head, then took his hands between mine and pulled at the
fingers of his gloves until they came off.

With hands and face and throat revealed, he looked more like

any other man standing before me. I could face this with better
equanimity than I could when he had been covered and featureless,
as remote as the god he deemed himself.

But a man I could kiss, and coax into bed, and betray. I could

do this, if I could think of him as only that, and nothing more.

He stood motionless as I stripped his layers off and revealed

him, watching me with eyes narrowed like a cat.

I couldn’t look at him too long or too closely. There was a

luminance to his skin, as though he’d dusted himself with
powdered mica. It made it hard to forget that I stood here running
my hands over my king.

He tucked his fingers beneath my chin and raised my face until

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I had to look at him. “All night long, you have not been shy at all.
Why start now?”

Irritation spiked through me. It made it easier to keep my hands

moving. “I am not shy.” I unfastened his belt and let it fall away.

He raised a brow as though to say, Well? What next?
I squared my jaw and moved around behind him, to the long

line of ties that held the robes closed at the back. The fabric gaped
as I pulled at them, revealing the back of his neck, his shoulders,
the valley of his spine.

I slid a hand under the heavy silks, feeling beneath his shoulder

blades and pressing my fingers against his ribs.

Here. Just here. If I pressed the tip of the stake to this space

between them, and drove it forward with my weight, it would
pierce his heart.

I felt through the folds of my kilt until I found the reassuring

presence of the stake hidden within them. But I didn’t draw it out,
or drive it into him. Not yet.

To reach the last of the robe’s ties, I had to kneel. Aten turned

while I was still on my knees at his feet and shrugged the robe
from his shoulders. It fell away, revealing all of him.

He wore a loincloth beneath the robes, but it hid little. He

seemed as tall as an obelisk, as sharply chiseled as one. Every line
of his muscles was perfection. Was it any wonder he called himself
a god, when he looked so much like one?

My thoughts jolted me back to myself. To cover my

awkwardness, I straightened and kissed him. This time, I was the
aggressor. I caught fistfuls of hair at his nape and pulled his mouth
to mine. He groaned and matched my kiss with his own. When I
spread a hand on his chest and pushed him toward the bed, he
pulled me with him.

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I pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. He was

too busy kissing me and running his hands over my chest to even
protest being put on his back. But when he tugged at my belt, I
drew away and caught his hands in mine. I moved them back to my
chest and drew him into another kiss before he could ask why I
didn’t want him undressing me.

He spread his hands wide on my chest, kneading. I made a

sound against his mouth to indicate that I enjoyed the caresses, so
he wouldn’t let his hands wander elsewhere.

His thumb made circles around my nipple until it grew hard,

and I leaned in against his touch, increasing the pressure. When I
finally broke from the kiss, we were both gasping, and I could no
longer pretend even to myself that it was anything but a genuine
reaction to his touch.

I put my weight onto my elbows and looked down at him,

gauging his reaction. He kept his eyes shut, and dragged his lower
lip between his teeth.

I kissed his jaw, then his throat, and rose again to glance up at

him and see that his eyes were still closed. His shoulder, his collar,
the hollow at the center of his throat. Through it all, he kept his
eyes shut, his hands kneading over me in encouragement.

I spread my hand above his heart and kissed the skin between

my fingers. Slowly, I slid a hand down my side and found the stake
in my kilt’s deep pleats. My fingers brushed over the hard wood. I
grasped it and pulled it free of the cloth, watching Aten closely.

He still didn’t stir. I kissed his chest once more, then positioned

the point of the stake between my fingers.

Aten stiffened and I felt opportunity slipping away from me. I

poised the tip of the stake in the space between two ribs, grasped
the shaft in both hands, and leaned all my weight against it.

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There was a moment’s resistance, then it gave beneath me and I

fell forward. He grunted in surprise—only that, nothing more.

I scrambled up, shaking with the knowledge of what I’d done.

But the sight before me made me shake even harder. The stake
hadn’t driven into him, it had shattered, and Aten’s chest wasn’t
even scratched.

No, I thought, dizzy. It’s impossible.
Aten picked a splinter up from his chest. His brow quirked.

“That’s what this was all about?”

I could only stare at him, unable to speak.
His lips curved, a wry smile. “All this. I supposed there was

some point behind it, but… ” He rolled the splinter between his
fingers, then flicked it away. “I admit, I didn’t expect that.”

I slid backward to the foot of the bed, watching him, waiting

for his retaliation.

He sat up and brushed the splinters from his chest and the bed.

“Well? If you are intent upon killing me, the least you could do is
tell me why.”

“Let me go,” I whispered through parched lips. “I am a priest

of Amun. I will be missed.”

“Let you go?” He laughed, the high, false laugh I’d heard too

much of already that day. A sudden burst of savagery made me
want to wring his neck until he could never voice such awful
sounds again. “Don’t be ridiculous. What harm have you done?”
He gestured to himself. “You may go anywhere you please, of
course.”

I threw myself toward the edge of the bed, intent upon running

long and far before he could recant his permission. He touched my
shoulder before I even had both feet on the floor, and stopped me
in my tracks.

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I waited, braced, judging the distance to the door and whether I

could make it through before he caught up with me. I thought
perhaps, if I took him by surprise, I could manage it.

“You are here to kill me, are you not? How will you manage

that, if you run away like a mouse?”

I stared at him, bile rising thick in my throat. He spoke as

though I would have opportunity to try it again, as though he didn’t
intend to snap my neck or tear my heart from my chest or
otherwise enact justice for my betrayal.

I should have run, before he had a chance to change his mind,

or reveal that it was just a cruel joke. I shouldn’t have pressed the
issue, but I had to know. “You’re not going to kill me?”

He laughed, damn him, and looked at me as though I were

better entertainment even than the festivities we’d left behind.
“Why would I do that? You didn’t kill me.” He rolled up onto his
knees and closed all the distance between us. “Besides,” he
murmured, trailing kisses up to my ear, “you still haven’t told me
why, and I am plagued by curiosity.”

“Why?” I choked out a harsh laugh and refused to let myself

think about the feel of his hands dragging over my skin. “You call
yourself a god-made-flesh and would have us forsake our true gods
to worship you alone. You will be the death of this country, and
her people. You are not fit to call yourself pharaoh.”

It was a terribly bold thing to say, and my voice quivered as I

spoke the words. But I had already tried to kill him; it seemed less
daring, when compared to that.

His brows shot up, but he continued to smile faintly. I bridled,

incensed that he viewed this all as some amusement when I was
deadly serious.

“You should not believe everything you hear, Seth. I do not

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call myself a god. The people of the city might say such things, but
not I.”

“You named yourself Aten!”
He laughed and rolled off of me, leaning back against the foot

of the bed, grinning. “Oh, that. Well, perhaps I was a bit enamored
of the irony of it, when I was younger. And it’s been so long now, I
don’t think I could answer to another name if I tried.” He turned
his head toward me. We were very close. His eyes were, suddenly,
quite serious. “That was a boy’s joke, and you shouldn’t hold it
against me. All boys are stupid in their youth. As for the rest, I’ve
never called myself anything worse than immortal.”

I scowled at him. He was splitting hairs now. “Only the gods

are immortal.”

He drew my hand to his chest. Beneath my fingers, his skin

was perfect, smooth and unblemished. Beneath that, his heart beat
as strong as ever.

“Either you are wrong about that,” he said quietly, “or you are

wrong about me not being a god.”

I glared. “I am not wrong.”
He moved suddenly. I tried to jerk away when he leaned in to

me, but he was too fast. His hand cupped the back of my neck,
held me with fingers as strong as bronze.

I shuddered and held still. When he shut his eyes, I realized

what he was after and turned my face away before he could cover
my mouth with his. His lips slid against my cheek instead, and
down to my jaw.

He did not seem overmuch concerned at being refused. His lips

worked softly on the side of my throat until he’d set every nerve
alight.

“You cannot have it both ways, Seth.” I could feel his lips

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move upon me as they shaped his words. “Either my immortality
makes me a god, or it is possible to be immortal without being
divine. You cannot be right about both.”

“I must be wrong about the immortality, then,” I said stiffly,

trying to ignore my body’s reaction to him. “Because if there is
anything at all I’m sure of, it’s that you are no god.”

He nibbled up my throat, his hands stealing around to the small

of my back, drawing my hips against his.

“Is that why you wish to kill me?” His lips continued to brush

against my skin as he spoke. It wreaked havoc on my
concentration. “Because I am immortal, and I have not bothered to
correct others when they have called me a god because of it?” He
didn’t sound belligerent at the notion, only curious.

I gave a sharp sigh and pulled my neck away from his mouth.

“No.” His blasphemy was the reason that the other priests cared
about, but it wasn’t the one that truly mattered to me. “I told you
already. You’re not fit to call yourself pharaoh.”

His brows climbed. At that last, his carefree smile finally began

to slip, revealing an unnerving intensity beneath it.

I saw the truth in his expression, but he kept his tone light all

the same. “No? What a curious thing to say. I am pharaoh, after all.
It is my title. Why shouldn’t I use it?”

“Your title.” I scoffed. “Your title is worth only as much as

what you do with it. And you do nothing at all. You throw your
lavish parties, enjoying the wealth others have earned before you,
but you do nothing for your country.” He started to speak, but I
continued over him. “You don’t participate in the daily rites that
are your responsibility, to honor and appease the gods. You don’t
heed the complaints of your people when they’re suffering. The
Nile flooded this year, and you act as though that were your doing,

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but what of last year, when the waters barely rose to half their
height? You celebrated Opet as lavishly as ever, while your people
starved.”

Aten watched me very closely, his smile gone. When I had

finished, he shook his head. “People will starve, Seth. People will
complain, and some will die, and they will blame it all on me. And
when the floods return and they should rejoice, they remember
only the past years when they suffered, and they continue to grow
bitter even as their crops flourish. Nothing ever changes.”

I rose onto my knees as I turned to face him. “If you do

nothing, then of course nothing will change.” He put his hand on
me while I spoke, his fingers spread wide across my stomach. I
stopped abruptly at the touch, but he glanced up at me.

“You seem to have quite a lot to say on the matter.” He slid his

hand up, his fingertips pressing in, leaving trails of heat across my
skin. “Don’t stop on my account.”

I continued haltingly, distracted by his touch. “The people

suffer, but cannot change anything for themselves. And you will
not. And you are surprised that someone like me might want to kill
you?” I scoffed and made an angry gesture, then stilled when I
realized that his gaze was distant and distracted. “You are not even
listening to me!”

“Of course I am. I heard every word.”
I snorted doubtfully—then sat back and blinked at him in

astonishment when he repeated what I’d said word-for-word.

“How old do you suppose I am, Seth?”
“What bearing does that have on anything I’ve been talking

about? You may have heard me, but you are not listening.” I
shoved his hand off and scowled when he tried to return them.

He moved suddenly, as quick as a lightning flash, and I found

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myself on my back and Aten above me, straddling my hips. He
braced his hands on my shoulders. “I have listened to you. Now
you should do the same, and answer my question. How old do you
suppose I am?”

Older than he seemed, I knew that much. Older than anyone

who was not a god had any right to be. He had reigned all my life,
and all my father’s, and all of his father’s, too. The priests spoke of
him as though he were new and young, only just seated upon his
throne, but I supposed in relation to the gods we worshipped, both
those things were true.

“I don’t know,” I said at last. “Older than my father’s father,

and he was born sixty-eight years ago.”

Aten gave a quiet half-laugh. “Double that and you’d be closer

to the truth.”

I tried not to let my surprise show. That knowledge filled me

with the same restless, unsettled sensation that watching the stake
shatter upon his chest had.

Aten cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over the corner

of my mouth. “I do not mean that things don’t change. They
change all the time. The Nile’s waters rise more than expected and
flood the land, or they do not rise at all. Drought strikes us, or
plague, or prosperity. A neighbor declares war upon us, or our own
people do. Things change.” The pressure of his thumb increased,
and his expression set into a bitter mask. “But people do not. They
will always find something to be unhappy about. They will always
want more than they have. If the crops fail and I distribute bread so
the people don’t starve, they complain that their bellies are not as
full as they’d like. If the river doesn’t flood and I commission a
new temple to be built so the farmers whose fields are barren will
have work and pay, they complain that the quarries are too far

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from their homes, or the labor too hard, or the sun too hot.” His
mouth tightened, and his hand pressed tighter on me. “No matter
what I’ve done, nothing changes.”

I turned my face so his hand slipped off my cheek and I could

speak. “So now you do nothing at all.”

A muscle along his jaw clenched and stood out in sharp relief.

“Do you think you could do it better?”

I hesitated before answering. I was making him angry, and I

realized to my surprise that I’d have rather had him flippant and
carefree. He was dangerous now.

No, I thought suddenly, cursing myself. He had always been

dangerous, and I was a fool if I’d forgotten it.

“Yes,” I said slowly, and cursed myself twice over. He’d

spared my life, and I was goading him. But I couldn’t help myself.
He’d thrown out the challenge. “You don’t do anything. The
smallest effort would be an improvement.” I shifted, pushing him
back a little with my shoulder. To my surprise, he didn’t even
protest. “I do not know if I could be a good pharaoh. I’m only
trained to the priesthood, after all. I know little of what it takes to
rule. But could I be a better one? Certainly, yes.”

It took a long moment after I’d finished speaking before I was

able to bring myself to stop staring at the bit of ceiling above
Aten’s left ear, and look at him directly.

He was watching me closely, his eyes slightly widened and his

expression vaguely surprised, as though he’d only just seen me for
the first time. “Those are bold words, Seth.”

“It’s the truth.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. His smile made the slow

shift from rueful to wry, the mask falling into place again. “Well.
When you have ruled for a hundred years, perhaps then you’ll be

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able to speak with authority to what a pharaoh is and what he is
not.” He lowered himself from his hands to his forearms, settling
his weight onto me.

“I know well enough—” I started, but he shifted his weight

forward, making my heart batter against my ribs. He skimmed his
lips across my cheek to the hollow beneath my jaw, then my throat.
When he dragged his tongue over it, I jerked back.

He rose up enough to look down at me. He raised his brows.
“Don’t… do that,” I said unsteadily, too shaken by it to pretend

I was not.

“Kiss you?” His smile sharpened. “Why not? I quite enjoy it.”

He bent again, and pressed his mouth to mine.

This time when his tongue swept out and stroked across my

lips, I couldn’t stop my reaction. I arched up beneath him, and my
lips trembled apart before I could stop myself.

He made a sharp, victorious sound and pulled me harder into

the kiss. He licked across my teeth, the roof of my mouth, twined
his tongue with mine until I couldn’t breathe.

“There, now. You cannot tell me you aren’t enjoying it, too.”

He rocked his hips against mine as though to prove his point.

I ran my tongue over my lip, fighting for control and trying to

chase away the lingering feel of his mouth on mine. Aten groaned
and dragged my mouth to his again. His tongue traced the path
mine had taken, caressing my lips and then delving between them,
into my mouth.

His kiss was a persuasion, coaxing and enticing. I shuddered

and relented to its promise. Just for a moment. Just one moment
more, and I’ll stop him.

But I didn’t, not until he broke away from the kiss, gasping,

and pressed his face to the crook of my shoulder. I stared up at the

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gilt ceiling, trying to control my breathing so he wouldn’t notice it
was as unsteady as his. When he turned his head and his lips
brushed my throat, I stilled. When he repeated the caress, clearly
intentional, I rolled and dumped him off of me.

Aten just chuckled and caught me, dragging me beneath him

again. “You are delightful.” Fear beat at me like bird wings as he
shifted his weight onto my shoulders. I tried not to panic, but my
hands clawed at him, digging and scraping as desperation
overwhelmed me.

His lips touched my throat, slightly damp. Just touched, with

the barest of pressure, while every horrible rumor I’d heard about
him whipped through my mind like a sandstorm.

He is no god, but a monster, and he eats innocents for his

supper.

He will steal the ka from you if you cross him, and leave you

cold and lifeless upon the floor, and you will never know the
afterlife.

He bathes in the blood of the young, of course. How else could

a man live so long? It’s unnatural, and so is he.

A renewed sense of urgency surged through me. I did not want

to lose my ka for all eternity. I stopped scrabbling at him,
ineffectual as it was, and brought my hands up instead to press
over my throat, shuddering with fear. I did not want to die.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 3

Aten drew back and looked down at me, his head angled to the

side like a cat. Fear wrapped me too tight to breathe. I waited for
him to pull my hands away and take what he was after.

For a long moment he just looked down at me, frowning as

though I were some strange puzzle he couldn’t figure out. Slowly,
the corners of his mouth turned up, and curled more, until he was
grinning down at me, and his chest shook with quiet laughter.

“Oh, Seth. You look like a mouse.” He pressed his thumb to

the dent beneath my lower lip. “Come, now. I know you are not
this meek.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” I forced the words

through my dry throat.

“No?” His brows climbed. “Not much, perhaps. But I’m

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learning. I know you are afraid of me.” He brushed the backs of his
fingers over my cheek. “And you have been, all this while, yet you
still sought me out and seduced me.”

I frowned. “You seduced me.”
“Do you think so?” His grin spread. “You are wrong. In any

case, you fear me, yet you still left the safety of the celebration to
come here with me, which means you are very brave. Perhaps also
very foolish, but brave nonetheless.”

I didn’t dispute it, but I rather suspected it came down to

foolishness more than courage.

“What else?” His gaze warmed as it ran over me. “I know you

feel very strongly about your gods, as well as your people. I can
guess, from the passion of your arguments, that either you, or
perhaps someone close to you, has suffered in some way you
believe I could have prevented.”

Surprise stopped my voice in my throat, though I tried to speak.

He continued on as though I hadn’t.

His voice dropped, turning low and sultry. “I know that you

enjoy kissing very much. You forget all about how much you hate
me, when I kiss you. Here.” He brushed the lightest kiss across my
lips. “And here.” His teeth grazed the edge of my ear. “And here…
” He kissed my collarbone, and swept his tongue over the hollow
behind it. He chuckled as a shudder ran through me. “Yes.
Certainly there. But… ” He slid up, and kissed the knuckles and
backs of my hands where I pressed them over my throat. “Not
here.”

I know you, too. I know what you are. I know why I shouldn’t

let you kiss me there.

“No.” I made my voice brave and strong, despite my fear. “I do

not like that.”

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“Well.” He lowered his mouth to mine and bit at my lips until

needy whimpers caught in my throat. “You shall just have to tell
me what you do.”

I couldn’t make my voice work, wasn’t sure what I’d have said

even if I could. I wrapped my arms up around his neck, kissing
him so he’d stop goading me.

A tremor ran through him, all along the length of his spine. He

shook beneath my hands. His hips thrust against mine and I
couldn’t help but moan.

He swallowed the sound, claimed my mouth harder, kissed me

faster. I couldn’t have stopped him if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t.
Not with his hands hot on my skin and the demanding press of his
body against mine. He reached with one hand and pulled at my
kilt, dragging it up when the belt wouldn’t give way. The next time
he thrust against me, his flesh slid on mine, and I cried out against
his mouth.

He drew back slowly, his mouth hovering just above mine, a

cruel tease. I rose up, trying to kiss him and urge him back, but he
held me down.

“You will not tell me?” He dragged his thumb across my lower

lip and I shuddered. My lips were raw from his kiss. “Well, I shall
have to discover it for myself.”

Before I could protest that I was telling him, that every shudder

and twitch of my body gave away what I liked better than words
ever could, he slid down and bent his head over my chest.

He lapped at my nipple and curved his hands around my ribs. I

pressed up against his mouth until he bit, carefully, catching my
flesh with the edges of his teeth. Then I froze.

Aten didn’t lift his mouth, but he glanced up at me. I

swallowed hard and tried to look away, to pretend, but I couldn’t.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

Not when his teeth were on me, just sharp enough to make my
heart beat faster.

Slowly, he relaxed his jaw and released me, so there was

nothing left but the heat of his mouth and the caress of his lips. He
stroked me with his tongue again, as though to make up for the
harshness of the bite, but I couldn’t relax.

“Ah.” He leaned his cheek against my chest so he could speak.

“Not that, either, I see. Well, I wonder if you will like this… ”

He swept his thumb through the dampness he’d left on my

nipple and the skin around it as he moved lower still, kissing my
ribs and the lines between the muscles on my stomach. His hands
slid down my waist and hips, kneaded the muscles of my thighs as
he settled between them. Then they slid up again to my waist, and
pulled again at my belt.

It opened and the careful pleats of my kilt fell away to nothing.

Aten pulled at the folds of cloth until he had revealed me
completely. He smiled down on me, full of satisfaction.

My heart beat too fast. Aten’s gaze was as sharp as a hunter’s

on me, and when he bent down over me, I shut my eyes and
tensed.

I felt his breath first, warm as it gusted across my stiffening

cock. He lingered, teased me with it. I bit back a whimper.

Aten answered with the touch of his tongue, a brief contact

against the underside of my cock, gone in the same moment that
I’d registered it.

This time, I didn’t let myself make a sound, but every part of

me cried out at the unfulfilled promise of his kisses. I thrust my
hips up and flushed hot with victory when his lips glided along my
shaft.

His tongue grazed over me like the kiss of flame. His lips slid

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across the head of my cock, then parted. As his breath washed over
me and I shuddered beneath him, he took me into his mouth.

I reached down unthinking and grasped him by the hair as I

thrust up, burying myself in the heat of his mouth.

Aten murmured something, a pleased sound that vibrated

around me. I cried out and thrust into him again.

His tongue dragged over me in long, slow sweeps, working all

the way around my shaft so that nothing was neglected, and every
part of me was alight with desire.

When he took his mouth from me, I groaned in protest and only

barely refrained from dragging him back. Moisture welled from the
tip of my cock as need pulsed through me. Aten wiped it up idly,
then watched me with a heated gaze as he slid the finger into his
mouth and sucked it clean.

“Mmm.” He drew his finger from his mouth and smiled as

though he’d just been handed the world. “You do like that. I
thought you might.”

I lay flat on my back, struggling for breath and wondering how

I had ended up here, in bed with the man I had come to kill, not
only wanting his mouth on me but needing it. My fellow priests
would have scorned me if they knew. I couldn’t even have blamed
them. Were the situations reversed, I’d have been appalled by the
very notion.

I ached with need, a prickling sensation spreading all across my

skin that would not be soothed except by touch. I pulled Aten up,
then tightened my arms and legs around him and rolled across the
bed, putting him onto his back. His eyes flew wide. “What—”

I rocked forward, letting my hips bear down against his. He

broke off with a groan. His eyes fluttered shut as he arched beneath
me.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

It was a revelation to see him like this. To have him shuddering

and biting back hungry sounds, instead of me. To be able to make
him gasp with a movement, a touch. To still, neither moving nor
touching, and watch the way his eyes snapped open and his brows
furrowed. He thrust against me insistently, but I put a hand on his
hip and held him down. I watched the frustration chase across his
features.

And when I moved again, slowly, dragging my skin across his

like a torment, I watched the hunger and the need sweep across his
face, washing the rest of it away.

I could make him suffer, I thought with a hot surge of

satisfaction. I could make him ache. I could make him need me.

I could make him come, the immortal pharaoh, god amongst

men, brought to his knees by the touch of a priest.

The power was heady, and the sounds of his strangled cries

went to my head faster and harder than even his wine had. I thrust
against him once more, repressing my own reaction so that I could
watch his, the way his lashes fluttered shut over his eyes and his
lips went slack just for an instant before he pressed them together.

When he opened his eyes, the heat of his gaze stopped the

breath in my throat. “You should not make promises you don’t
intend to keep, Seth.” His voice was warning and entreaty in one.
“Some might take it amiss.”

I could have left. Perhaps I should have, before it went any

further. There would be other opportunities to kill him, other
methods that might work better than my stake. But I rose over him
and was unwilling to forfeit this power. Not yet.

He was at my mercy, at least for the moment. Perhaps soon he

would tire of it, and seize control for himself again. Perhaps then I
would leave, and deny him the satisfaction of having conquered

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me. But for now…

No. I liked it too well to stop.
I tipped his face up to mine. “I’m not,” I said, and let my

weight settle down against him. When he shut his eyes, I lowered
my mouth to his.

I kissed him slowly, retreating when he tried to press into my

mouth or growled with impatience. His hands clenched on my
waist, but that was as close as he came to trying to direct me.

With a sigh, he relaxed his grip and gentled his fingers. I

rewarded him with the firmer press of my mouth, grazed my
tongue across his lips.

He parted them, but didn’t insist, so I slipped into his mouth

and took the kiss deeper.

His tongue met mine, slick and hungry. But I was hungry, too,

so I only murmured quiet appreciation and kissed him a little
harder, a little faster. I pressed my hips into his again, enjoying the
way he groaned against my mouth and gave two quick thrusts
against me in response, seeking more.

This time, I didn’t stop. I continued to move against him,

steady rocking motions that dragged my skin over his and made us
both suck in our breath.

He broke away abruptly, turning his face from me and gasping

as though I’d suffocated him. On one breath, he groaned my name,
and on the next, gave a low growl and gripped my hips to hold
them still as he thrust up against me.

I shut my eyes as a shiver coursed down my spine and enjoyed

it for a moment, until he shifted beneath me as though he meant to
roll us over again. I pulled back at once, severing all contact
between us.

“Don’t,” I growled. “You’re not going to do that. I’m not going

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to be some conquest, who let you seduce him into your bed and
laugh at his convictions and dismiss his concerns, and then let you
roll him over and fuck him because you wanted it.”

Aten’s brows rose even higher. “You’re not?” he asked, and

while his tone may have been light, he didn’t laugh or mock my
insistence.

“No.” I made my voice hard as stone. “I am not.” I thrust again,

angling my hips so that my cock slid along his.

He shut his eyes with a slight tremor, and ran his tongue over

his lip. “Well, it seems there is no convincing you. I suppose you’ll
just have to continue on as”—his words choked off when I thrust
again—“as you are.”

It was precisely what I intended, and the pace that I set was

steady and demanding. He shuddered beneath me every time my
flesh slid against his. His arm wrapped around my back, cinching
around the widest part of my shoulders, then slid higher so he
could bury his hand in my hair. He growled, low, primal noises,
any time my rhythm faltered or my pace slowed.

My own breath gathered in my throat with each movement,

need crawling under my skin and driving me against him. His
choked groans made me shut my eyes, fighting against fresh waves
of arousal.

When he drew in a sharp breath, hissing between his teeth as

his hands suddenly clawed at me, I drove myself forward, surging
against him relentlessly. He gasped and tried to say something, but
the words were choked and incomprehensible.

I kept my eyes open and fixed on his face. I wanted to feel his

body shudder and release beneath mine. I wanted to watch it and
know that I had been the one to bring him to this place where he
was not pharaoh, not immortal, not a god, but as trembling and

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overcome as any man.

In the last moment, when his body shuddered like a pennant on

a string and I didn’t know that I could hold off my release long
enough to witness his, Aten’s eyes shot open. His gaze connected
with mine. His mouth gaped, and he gave a groan like a dying man
as he jerked beneath me, and the heat of his seed smeared across
our stomachs.

Only then did I give in to the urge to shut my eyes. I squeezed

them tight and moved against him in a flurry, panting as I strained
for release. It came over me, a hot rush up my spine that spread to
the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes, and burst from me
to mix with his seed between us.

I slumped on top of him, boneless in the absence of that

blinding need. Aten’s hands slipped through the sweat that had
gathered on my skin, but he didn’t speak.

I kept my eyes shut. I couldn’t bear to look at him now and

watch him pretend this hadn’t meant anything. Not when I still had
the image of him letting go burned into my memory.

He would only act as though it had been any other diversion,

momentarily pleasurable but quickly gone. So I kept my eyes and
my mouth shut, and prayed that Amun would grant him the
wisdom to do the same.

Gradually, our breathing eased. Aten wrapped an arm around

me and rolled us onto our sides. He molded his body against mine.
My heart beat a little faster, chasing away the lethargy of release. I
didn’t want to lie here with him like this, like we were lovers. Now
that the madness of desire had released me from its grip, I wanted
only to go.

Aten adjusted himself against me, his legs tangling with mine.
In a moment. Just a moment, and I’ll make my escape.

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His breathing shifted, deepened. Reluctantly, I dared to open

my eyes.

His were shut, his face slack and restful. He was sleeping?

Already?

Layabed, I thought uncharitably. Lazybones. I stared at the wall

over Aten’s shoulder, trying to decide how best to get myself out
of this predicament without rousing him.

Aten shifted against me, rolled his weight in to lean against

mine. “Seth,” he murmured, his voice drowsy and slow. I froze
like a mouse caught in a hawk’s sight. “If you are going to try to
kill me again, I would much appreciate it if you’d wait until
morning.”

He drew me closer before I could pull away, one arm stealing

around my waist, the other draped heavily across my shoulder. His
legs locked with mine. He settled his head on my outstretched arm
as though it were a pillow, tucked between my shoulder and my
cheek.

“Sleep, Seth,” he murmured. “Just sleep. “ He let out his breath

on a long, slow sigh and took his own advice, leaving me with no
choice but to do the same.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 4

“You don’t intend to sleep the day away, do you?”
Light blazed, painful against my eyelids. I lifted a hand to

shield my sight and blinked them open. Aten stood on the other
side of the room, already dressed. He set the oil lamp down on a
table and raised his brows at me.

“No.” I rubbed the grit from my eyes and swung my legs over

the side of the bed. The long cloth of my kilt lay in a heap upon the
floor. I wrapped it twice around my waist, then belted it in place. I
didn’t care enough to bother with pleats and folds this morning.

“Good.” He gestured to the table, where a small bowl of dates

and a jar of cream sat beside the lamp. “Eat.”

I crossed the room to the table while, behind me, Aten did

something I couldn’t see. I looked down at the table, its small

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surface crowded by the dates and the cream—and the oil lamp, its
flame glowing brightly.

If you are going to try to kill me again, I would much

appreciate it if you’d wait until morning, he’d said, and it was
morning now. I took up a date and bit into it thoughtfully as I
watched the lamp’s flame dance and contemplated my purpose.

The rumors that a stake to the heart would kill one of his kind

were clearly outlandish—last night had proved that well enough.
But I had heard others. Some said that fire was needed, the burning
flames of Ra to cleanse the blasphemy from him.

I took up the small clay pot and cradled it in my hands. I

looked over my shoulder, but Aten’s back was still to me, his
attention preoccupied.

I must do it. For the country. For its people. I’d said it last

night—almost anyone could be a better pharaoh than Aten. Even a
token effort would be an improvement.

I made up my mind, squared my shoulders, turned. I stepped up

behind Aten, and when he started to face me, I stilled him with the
light pressure of my fingers against his shoulder.

He chuckled, started to speak. Before I could hear enough to

know what he said, I swung the lamp and dashed it against the
broad stretch of his shoulders.

It shattered and a fount of blazing oil splashed over him,

burned bright. The heat of it sent me back a step, and the horror
drove me back another. I pressed my back against the wall and
watched him burn, a fiery figure standing still and surreal in the
middle of the room.

He didn’t scream or run, he just stood there, his hands

outstretched before him, looking at them as if the flames licking
over them were something curious and puzzling.

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The flames died, but Aten did not. When the last fingers of fire

guttered out, he stood there just as he had been moments before,
except that the cloth of his kilt was singed black and mostly in
tatters, and he was frowning at me.

“While I appreciate your flair for the dramatic,” he said,

bending to pick a scrap of charred linen from his calf, “do you
think you might have tried that before I got dressed? Now I shall
have to bathe again.” He sighed and stripped off what remained of
his belt, and let the kilt fall to a pile of char and ash.

I couldn’t move from where I stood, my back pressed to the

wall, my voice as dry and shriveled as the dead. “You’re hair isn’t
even singed,” I finally managed, unsteady.

He glanced up at me from his contemplation of the ruined

garment. The corner of his mouth turned up. “No, and thank
goodness for that. I could hardly go walking around without any
eyebrows, now could I?”

“But… how?” I shook my head, mystified and more than a

little shaken. “It’s not possible.”

His gaze sharpened on me. His smile faded, leaving him

terribly serious. “Do you want me to tell you the how and the why
of it?” He asked it of me the way a parent might of a particularly
curious child, who had asked a question whose answer they knew
would trouble him.

Then the mood passed, and he turned away, releasing me from

the weight of his gaze. “I thought you’d figured it out already,
anyhow.” He belted another kilt around his hips and gestured to
me. “Come along.”

He started out of the room, but I didn’t move. A few paces

beyond the doorway, he must have realized I wasn’t with him. He
stopped and came back. “Well?”

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I shook my head. “I have to get back. To the temple. They’ll

want… ” I faltered. “They’ll want to know—”

They’d want to know whether I had succeeded in killing Aten

or not, and I had nothing to report but failure.

“Don’t be absurd,” Aten said cheerfully. “You haven’t killed

me yet. And I don’t know how you expect to manage that from
within the temple.” He gestured with his chin over his shoulder,
toward the doorway. “It’s not as though the pharaoh grants
audiences with his people—even his priests—every day. How long
do you suppose it would take to gain another appointment, and
permission to return to the palace, once you’ve left?”

My brows snapped down at his challenge. It filled me with the

foolish urge to take him up on it, to prove that it wouldn’t be so
difficult after all. But I recognized it for the foolishness it was, and
held my tongue.

The truth was, I’d never manage to get another audience with

Aten, if I gave up this opportunity now. Perhaps at the next
Festival of Opet, when the palace doors were opened to more than
just the aristocracy.

Perhaps not. A year was a long time. My determination to kill

him amused him now, but the novelty would likely have worn off
by then. I’d be lucky to find myself granted access at all.

And then there was the temple, and the priests, who grew more

impatient with Aten by the day. They would never want to wait
another year. And never mind that I had shattered a stake upon his
skin and doused him in burning oil and it had all been for naught.
They’d still blame this failure on me. It was my responsibility. I
had not managed it. I had failed.

It fueled frustration in me. I supposed he could not help his

nature any more than I could mine, but it felt like a personal

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challenge, like he did all this just to mock me, and I refused to
tolerate it.

If the other priests called me a failure, they would not do it

because I had made two attempts and then given up. If Aten would
let me stay, then by Ra, I would, and I’d take advantage of the
opportunity. I’d find a way. There had to be one.

* * *

Aten bathed in the pool while I waited impatiently at its edge.

He tried to coax me in the water with him, but I refused, even
when he grew persuasive with his kisses.

At last he donned his kilt again and guided me out with a hand

on the small of my back. It felt patronizing, and I pulled away,
shooting him a frown. He only moved in beside me, close enough
our shoulders brushed as we walked, and murmured in my ear, “If
you send this one up in flames, too, I shall throw you into the pool.
If you’re going to destroy my clothing and make me smell like ash,
the least you can do is provide me with a bit of pleasant company
while I am forced to bathe again and again.”

“If you throw me in the pool,” I said, my voice tight, “then you

shall not find me pleasant company at all.”

He laughed. “Well. We shall see, won’t we?” I wanted to

smack him.

I was just beginning to wonder where he intended to lead me

when a richly-appointed official intercepted us with a rolled length
of papyrus in his fist and a harried expression upon his face.

Aten stopped when he saw the man. “Yes? What is it,

Mhotep?”

The official poised on the balls of his feet, his fingers tapping

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out an anxious rhythm against the papyrus. “Sire. I have just
received a report.” He gestured with the scroll. “The dredging
project in the southern province… ”

Aten waited. Mhotep pursed his lips and puffed out his cheeks,

but his gaze slid sideways, reluctant.

“What of it?” Aten prompted at length.
Mhotep grimaced and ran a hand over his brow. “It’s the

inundation, sire. Part of the channel’s wall was damaged, and it’s
collapsed beneath the rising flood waters.”

I didn’t need to look at Aten to sense the way he tensed beside

me. I did glance at him, though, all the same, and saw the sudden
lines of tension that carved into his face. “Can it be repaired before
the waters recede?”

Mhotep shook his head. “The waters are too high this year. The

ground cannot be worked.”

Aten made a sudden gesture, a flick of his fingertips that spoke

of barely-restrained frustration. He drew a measured breath, then
pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the damage will continue
throughout the inundation.”

“Yes, sire.”
“How much for repairs?” His voice was strained, suddenly

weary beyond belief. I was startled by it, and by the way he
seemed to have aged ten years before my very eyes, when he had
not aged at all throughout my lifetime, nor my father’s or
grandfather’s.

The other man sucked at his teeth. “It is difficult to estimate—”
“Mhotep.” Aten’s voice carried a warning. I shivered, even

though it wasn’t directed at me.

Mhotep turned gray. “A thousand deneb, perhaps.” He

whispered it, and hunched his shoulders. “Perhaps more.”

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Aten’s fingers tightened, pinching the bridge of his nose hard

enough that even I winced. He drew two slow, measured breaths in
silence.

“It is too much,” he said at last. “Make it less.”
“Sire, it cannot be helped! Without the canal to irrigate the

fields in these provinces—”

“Where shall I take the funds from?” Aten lowering his hand

and pinned Mhotep with his gaze. “From your salary? I hardly
think so. Or should I take the funds from the public treasury? I
could sell our stores of grain and hope the gods continue to shine
their favor upon us, but what if the waters do not rise next year, or
our crops fail, and the granaries are empty? They will all starve,
then.”

Mhotep shook his head, sending his thick, bead-tipped braids

bouncing against his cheeks. “Without the repairs, the crops in the
southern provinces will fail, and you will deplete your granaries all
the same.”

Aten grew still, his gaze distant. His brows furrowed. He

counted something out on his fingers, his lips moving in silence.

After a moment, his expression cleared. He returned his focus

to Mhotep. “Gather the farmers in those provinces. Anyone whose
lands will be affected by the canal’s collapse. Tell them we require
three days’ labor from each to finish the dredging. This will save
us a great deal in wages on that project, and the funds can be put
instead to repairing the channel.”

He paused and glanced briefly at me. I was staring, but

couldn’t help myself. He sent me a quizzical look, but turned his
attention back to Mhotep before I could answer it. “Will that
suffice?”

The official’s expression became shuttered, unreadable. He

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bowed deeply before Aten. “Yes, sire. I shall see it done.”

Aten nodded, satisfied, and dismissed him. When the other man

had left, he raised his brows at me. “What now? Another
criticism?” He exhaled sharply. “You think you can do better than
I—you said as much. Well, then. What would you have done? The
fields are flooded and the farmers without work until the waters
recede anyway. They can spare a few days of labor. Would this
country have been better served if I had left them to their
drunkenness and revelry, and jeopardized the lives of all of my
people?”

“No,” I said quietly, but he continued on, growing incensed

with each word, as though I were hurling criticisms at him.

“It was necessary! Of course, now they will protest the

unfairness of being worked without pay, and not one will ever stop
to consider that the channel’s repair will bring more crops to their
fields and more food to their families than any wage I could pay
them. I told you,” he snarled, spinning about to face me, “it never
changes.”

“That was clever,” I said.
He started to speak, then stopped himself. He shut his mouth

and shot me a dubious look. “They will not think so.”

“Well, if I think of an alternative that will earn you their love

and devotion, I shall let you know,” I said, dryly. “But you’ve done
your duty. They will have water, and food, and their livelihood.” I
shrugged. “I have no complaint.”

Slowly, his expression shifted, lightening, until he looked on

me with humor rather than mistrust. He gave a bark of laughter and
clapped me upon the back. “Well! If I have earned your approval,
then I suppose I can simply tell you the secret to killing me, and
die content.” He chuckled, shook his head, and continued walking

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as though it were just some joke, but I stared after him, too startled
to move until he was a full three strides ahead.

I hurried to catch up, my heart beating too fast. I kept my head

ducked, grateful that he didn’t try to continue the conversation, or
make any more jokes about killing him.

I had come here to kill a pharaoh who cared nothing for his

people. I stayed in hopes of discovering the method by which that
might be accomplished. But this was not the sort of act I’d have
expected of him.

Callous disregard, perhaps, or an easy solution that ultimately

did more harm than good. But a king who didn’t care for the well-
being of his people would not have shown such concern over his
decision, or taken the time to weigh the alternatives.

He would not have bothered to come up with something clever,

if he didn’t care.

Would he?
It had not escaped me that it was possible this was some sort of

display put on for my benefit. But I didn’t think so. His reactions
had seemed genuine, and why would he bother when he could not
be killed, anyway?

He shot me a curious glance that I nearly missed in the depth of

my thoughts. He followed it with a brilliant grin. “I have rendered
you speechless, have I? Nothing to say to that, my little assassin?
Well! A rare day, indeed.”

I may have begun to doubt my convictions about him, but I still

did not like being teased. I scowled. “You do not know me.”

“Not so much as I might like,” he agreed as though my barb

had missed him entirely. He winked. “Let’s remedy that later
tonight, shall we?”

I sent him a withering look, but his teasing had struck a nerve. I

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resolved to make no comment at all. If he cared to tease me about
my talking, then he could see how well he liked my silence.

My resolve did not last long, however. I followed him into

another chamber in which the vizier waited, the pendant of his
office heavy about his neck. Ma’at knelt with her wings
outstretched, ready to judge.

He had with him a small table heaped with papyri. I scanned

their number with resignation as the vizier apprised Aten of the
High Court’s cases. A farmer whose land was being slowly
swallowed by the Nile as her course changed in small amounts
from year to year. A soldier who had used his position to
intimidate a commoner, and been sentenced to a hundred blows for
it. I tried to neither listen nor hear. I didn’t care. I was a priest of
Amun, not of Ma’at.

When the vizier had finished, he bowed to Aten and cast a

suspicious glance over me and my poorly-wrapped kilt. Aten
flicked a hand toward the door and thanked him for his work.

He left without giving me a second glance. I turned toward

Aten and crossed my arms over my chest, waited until I couldn’t
hear the vizier’s footsteps anymore before I exhaled sharply.

Aten glanced up, brows raised in an expression of polite

inquiry.

“Do you expect me to attend you in these matters of state all

day?”

He set down the scroll he’d been reading and focused his gaze

more closely upon me. “Why, Seth. Do you have somewhere else
you’d like to be? Do not tell me so. My feelings will be crushed
beyond repair.”

I snorted. “I rather suspect your feelings are no more easily

wounded than you are.”

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His eyes glinted with mischief. “That may be true.

Nevertheless. Do you mean to tell me you find a pharaoh’s duties
boring, Seth?” That wicked smile curved the corners of his mouth,
waiting for me to admit that I found it dull beyond imagining.

“I find them exceedingly thrilling,” I said dryly.
Aten gave a crack of laughter, like splitting stone. He relaxed

back into his seat. “It seems to me that only those who are not
pharaoh think it would be amusing to be one.”

“I don’t think so,” I said quietly. “I think it’s a tremendous

responsibility. The fear that accompanies it must be equally
tremendous.”

Aten’s smile faded. “Fear? Of what?” He smiled, tried to regain

some levity, but it seemed force and insincere. “Of handsome
assassins?”

My brow wrinkled, and I shook my head. “No, not of death. Of

failure.”

His smile fell away entirely, leaving him grave. He stared

straight at me, something important and intense in his eyes. “Do
you think I am afraid, Seth?”

I swallowed hard, struggling for words to match my thoughts.

They were like a tangled mess of string, and I feared any words I
spoke would come out equally jumbled. “You clearly have no need
to fear for your life,” I said at last, wryly, since I had demonstrated
that well enough for both of us, twice over. “And failure… ”
Speech failed me again. I trailed off.

That morning, I wouldn’t have hesitated to declare that Aten

had no fear of failure at all, for he seemed to revel in it. But now?

I had seen the tension on his face, as he struggled to make the

right decision in regards to the collapsed channel. I’d seen for
myself how it weighed on him. I was not entirely convinced, but I

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began to doubt.

“I don’t know,” I said at last, the only honesty I could manage.

“But you hardly seem the sort who fears anything.”

Aten’s brows rose, and he grinned again. “Nothing at all?” He

folded his hands beneath his chin and leaned his elbows on the
tabletop. “Fancy that.”

I shied back and turned my face away sharply, pretending I was

studying the painted figures of gods and men upon the walls to
hide the way his teasing angered me.

“What do you fear, Seth?” His words were low, intimate. I

turned my head around to look at him.

He’d leaned forward in his seat. His gaze was steady on me,

piercing. I felt as though I were one of the men in those frescoes,
standing before Ma’at with my heart laid bare upon her scales,
awaiting judgment.

“Scorpions.” I shrugged. “I loathe them.”
Aten’s brows climbed. He leaned forward even more, as

though he could close the distance between us without leaving his
chair.

His gaze was so intent I felt pinned by it despite the distance,

my chest tightening beneath his regard. “I didn’t ask what you
hated, Seth. I asked what you feared.”

I looked at my feet. Not at the walls. I couldn’t look at Ma’at

and her scales when I already felt as though there were beetles
crawling about beneath my skin from Aten’s regard alone.

His gaze demanded honesty, and while it was true that I

disliked scorpions with a passion both violent and visceral, that
wasn’t what he wanted to know.

He watched me as I struggled, and the silence of his regard

pulled the truth free, raw and bloody and bare. “Disappointing the

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people who believe in me,” I whispered, my words thready and
hoarse. “Failing them.”

Aten’s expression shifted slowly. His expression softened, his

eyes widening, his lips parting as though with surprise. “Seth—”

Even his voice was gentler. I tightened my arms over my chest

and frowned. I wouldn’t be pitied. Not by anyone. Certainly not by
him. “And you?” I threw it out like a challenge. “What do you
fear?”

His expression turned to stone. He pressed his lips together,

lowered his brows, until his expression was imposing and
unreadable.

Another mask. I wondered what he hid beneath it.
“Nothing, of course.” There was nothing genuine left in his

tone. “What would I possibly have to fear?”

“I can’t imagine,” I answered dryly. Of course, he would pull

the truth from me unwilling but reveal nothing of himself in return.
Gods judged men, and peered into their hearts. Men did not get to
return the favor. I continued in another vein entirely. “If it’s all the
same, I’d rather leave you to your scrolls and find something to
eat. You may not need to eat regularly, but I still do.” I shot him a
sharp look. “Or will I return from your kitchens only to find myself
denied an audience with you, and cast out of the palace?”

Surprise flashed across Aten’s expression in the instant before

he covered it. “You’re hungry? Why didn’t you say so?” He made
his tone bewildered, as though this were entirely my fault for not
speaking up sooner.

“Will you answer my question or not?”
His lips curved. “Will you answer mine?”
I didn’t relent. It seemed to me that it was the only way to deal

with him, when he got like this. If I didn’t let him manipulate it, I

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could keep the conversation on track.

A moment passed, then Aten laughed and rose. “I cannot have

you wasting away on me, can I?” He gestured toward the door.
“Let us alight, and obtain food.”

I half suspected that I would follow him from the chamber and

find him grinning, another pointed barb poised upon his tongue. I
hesitated, but the gnawing in my stomach swayed me.

He lead me into the depths of the palace, where servants rushed

about us like the waters that coursed down the Nile, parting around
us when we stood in their way.

“Ah, here,” Aten said at last, and led me outdoors to the

kitchen, sweltering in the heat of the fires. “Nafrit!” He beamed at
the woman who was stooped in the middle of it all, peering into an
open oven as though she couldn’t even feel the waves of heat that
rolled out of it. “Tell me you have something marvelous.”

She straightened and swiped a hand down her side, leaving a

trail of flour. She looked him over, snorted, and grinned. “Not for
you, I don’t. Can’t imagine what you’d think I’ve got cooking up
for your appetite.”

I stared at her, astonished that she would speak to Aten so

comfortably. He laughed and leaned against her table until she
took up a spoon sticky with dough and chased him back.

“Not for me, Nafrit. Take pity on my friend.” He indicated me

with a jerk of his chin. “He wastes away to nothing before my very
eyes. I shall be alone and bereft.”

She gave a crack of laughter and shook her head, but her grin

didn’t waver. I held myself still beneath her appraising gaze.
Whatever she saw in me, it seemed to satisfy her. She nodded and
fished a fat loaf of bread out of the oven.

She slathered two slices with honey and passed them to me.

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“There you are, child. Eat up while I find you something more to
fill your stomach.”

I didn’t know what to make of her, or the obvious affection she

had for Aten, so I shoved the hot bread and dripping honey into my
mouth and marveled in silence.

She assembled a plate of roasted quail, marinated in wine and

seasoned heavily with onions and herbs. It smelled marvelous, and
my stomach rumbled audibly, making Nafrit and Aten both clutch
their sides with laughter.

I picked at the meat cautiously, tearing off a small strip of crisp

skin and savoring the burst of flavor when I laid it upon my
tongue. Nafrit eyed me critically. “My lord, you lied. You claim he
wastes, but look. He eats like a mouse.” She gestured to my plate.
“Eat, child. Or doesn’t my cooking suit you?”

“It suits me very well,” I assured her, and ate another, larger bit

of meat. It wasn’t the flavor of the meat that struck me so hard, but
rather its abundance. It was an unimaginable luxury to have roast
quail and other meats available whenever one cared to walk out to
the kitchens and have some. I picked the flesh off the leg Nafrit
had given me and watched Aten sidelong.

“Thank you, Nafrit,” I said when I had finished my plate. She

tried to fill it again, but I refused. Already, I’d had more than I was
accustomed to.

“Yes, Nafrit, a thousand thanks.” Aten beamed at her and drew

me against his side. I stiffened. “Seth thanks you, and I, and
everyone in the palace. If he wasted away for lack of sustenance,
then I should find myself wandering the halls, disconsolate, and all
the palace would be forced to endure my piteous sniffles. You have
saved us all from that horrid fate.”

Nafrit scoffed and shooed us off, but her cheeks flushed at

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Aten’s effusive praise.

“She likes you,” I observed as we returned to the palace.
He slanted me a wry gaze. “You needn’t act so surprised.”

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 5

The morning’s events left me lost in thought for the rest of the

day. I could make little sense of his friendship with Nafrit, or her
obvious affection for him. A man might befriend his home’s cook
to ensure better meals, but what purpose would Aten have in it?

The longer I thought, the less certain I became. Mhotep had

seemed frightened of Aten, and I’d thought nothing of it. Now, I
wrinkled my brow and wondered if perhaps I hadn’t been wrong
all along.

Aten hadn’t taken his news well. It had weighed on him—I’d

seen that myself. If Mhotep knew his pharaoh at all, he’d have
anticipated Aten’s reaction. Was that what had made Mhotep
cringe and prevaricate? Reluctance to add to his king’s burdens,
rather than fear of his temper?

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I spent the latter half of the day wandering after Aten, trying to

make sense of it, and hardly noticed when he led me back to his
apartments.

His laughter startled me back to myself. “You look positively

overwhelmed. Come, sit. Look, I’ve had supper brought for you.”

I blinked at the laden table. “But I just ate.”
“That was hours ago. It’s well past evening.” He ushered me to

the table. “Sit. Eat. Nafrit likes you, too, you know. She’ll have my
head if she finds out I’ve let you starve.”

My appetite roared to life as I lowered myself into the chair.

“Good luck to her. I daresay she doesn’t realize the task ahead of
her, if that’s her aim.”

Aten grinned as he watched me eat. “Or she knows something

you don’t.”

“Perhaps,” I conceded with a snort, but I didn’t believe it for a

moment.

Aten let me eat undisturbed, for which I was grateful, but the

weight of his regard made the skin along my spine itch. I ignored it
until my plate was empty and my stomach full, then caught his eye.
“What is it?”

“Nothing at all.” He circled the table like a cat on the prowl.

My mouth went dry. I edged back, but before I could even rise,
Aten had one hand on my shoulder, the other sliding into my hair.

He bent, his mouth a whispered promise against mine. “You

have had a very long day, my Seth. Shouldn’t you like to make
your way to bed?”

I shivered at the play of his lips over mine. “If I thought you

talked about sleep, I should like it very much. But I know you are
not.”

He laughed softly. His tongue teased my lips, working them

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open until I could not refuse. When I parted for him, reluctantly
accepting his kiss, he made a low, humming sound in the back of
his throat and claimed my mouth.

I groaned and brought my hands up to fist in his hair, unsure

whether I meant to pull him in or shove him away. The moment I
touched him, he sat astride my lap, his weight grinding his hips
against mine as he crushed our chests together.

I couldn’t think like this. Not enough to protest, and certainly

not enough to stop. His teeth bit at my lips, making me shudder.
Then he soothed the sting with the liquid glide of his tongue, and I
sighed into his mouth.

He kissed as though it were play, and echoed every stroke of

his tongue with the rocking pressure of his hips on mine. I moaned,
hardly able to remember that I didn’t even like him much and
certainly didn’t want to spend another night in his bed.

I was panting when he broke away, and he was, too. I curled

my fingers around handfuls of his hair and tugged. I wasn’t sure
whether I wanted him to continue or not, but all I knew was that
this in-between would drive me mad.

“And now what do you think?” Aten scraped my lips between

his teeth with each word. “Does going to bed sound somewhat
more appealing?”

It did, it was true, but I was too stubborn to admit it.
He stroked his fingers along my throat and let his weight settle

onto me. I shut my eyes with a shudder, lips parting as I sucked air
through my teeth.

Aten took advantage of it to pull me up, onto my feet and into

his kiss. He guided me across the room and into the bedchamber
without breaking it.

My feet moved without thought, eager to follow, and the only

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thing on my mind was his kiss and how much more I wanted.

The bed struck me at the back of my calves. Trepidation shot

through me when he pushed me back until I fell.

He climbed over me, his mouth even hungrier on mine as his

body pressed down against me. He slid his leg between mine and
ground it hard against my aching cock.

I bit at his mouth in an agony of frustration. Aten broke away

with a laugh and watched me from just above as he repeated the
motion. I shut my eyes and shuddered, unable to help my reaction.

“Tell me you want me,” he breathed against my mouth.
I stilled beneath him and blinked my eyes open. He tried to kiss

me. When I didn’t respond, he rose up, his brows lifting as though
to say, What? It’s not such a horrible request.

It wasn’t, but it still sat ill with me. I shook my head and pulled

him back down so I could distract him with my kisses.

He kissed me for a moment, languid and passionate. “Say it,

Seth,” he murmured as his hips rocked against mine. Need cut
through me with daggered claws.

I panted beneath him, muscles tightening as I tried to stave off

my reaction. “Why?”

His lips curved, and his gaze kindled. His hand stole beneath

my kilt, fingers wrapping around the shaft of my cock, stroking
expertly. “Because it’s the truth.”

I shoved myself upright, forcing him back. I’d hoped to topple

him off of me, but he countered my movements smoothly, and rose
as I did so that he knelt above me, his cock stiff against my
stomach. He thrust, sliding against my skin, and grinned as though
it had been his idea all along.

His fingers curled into my waist and pulled me toward him

with his next thrust.

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“Ah, Seth.” His lips curved as he skimmed them up my jaw.

“You are so delightfully stubborn.” His teeth grazed the edge of
my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I wager I can make you
say it.”

I knew better than to think this was a safe bet. Even so, I

couldn’t help but ask, “Wager what?”

He sat back on his haunches and regarded me, his gaze

narrowed and speculative. “The truth, mayhap. How would you
like that? One question, any one you like, and I’ll answer as
honestly and completely as I’m able.”

He could not have chosen a more tempting proposition if he’d

offered me the whole of the Two Kingdoms. But I was not a fool.
“If I lose?” I asked cautiously.

He laughed and leaned in to scrape his teeth over my chin. “If

you lose, and admit that you want me… Well, I’ll have had my
reward, then, won’t I?”

I frowned and tried to draw back, but he wouldn’t let me. He

lapped over the pulse point in my throat, just beneath my jaw. I
turned my face away, but he spread his hand upon my cheek and
turned me back.

“Well?” He kissed me lightly. “Will you take the wager?”
I couldn’t not. The prospect of winning was too much

temptation to refuse. It was stupid, but the words forced
themselves through my teeth anyway. “Yes. I’ll take it.”

Aten grinned, his face brilliant with victory in the moment

before his arms came around me.

I expected his kiss, but he withheld it. He turned me about until

I sat with his knees braced on either side of me, his chest hot
against my back.

His breath skated over down my throat and across my jaw. His

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arms circled me. One slid up, teasing my nipple to an aching knot.
The other spread flat across my stomach and brushed down, a
feather touch against my kilt-covered erection.

I shut my eyes and drew a slow breath as his fingers played

over me. I was already painfully hard, but his touch made my
blood pound. I wanted to thrust up into his hand and strengthen the
touch.

My slow breathing stuttered as he drew my kilt up and bared

me. His laughter was soft and close against my ear. “Seth. Look
how beautiful you are.”

I shook my head, but before I could protest anything, he curled

his fingers around my cock and stroked, and speech became the
last thing in the world that I cared about.

“You are,” he breathed against my neck. His fingers tightened

as his hand slid over my shaft, drawing a groan from me. “You’re
exquisite.”

“You’re a flatterer,” I spat between my clenched teeth. His

thumb slid across the head of my cock, sending heat arrowing
through me. I gasped and drove into his fist without thought.

Aten laughed and wrapped his other arm around my waist,

holding me close as his hand worked over me. His fingers teased
along the underside of my cock, where I was incredibly sensitive,
then slid circles around its head. With one fingertip, he teased the
opening at its tip and had me shaking against him, gasping hard for
breath.

“Gods,” I breathed, my chest heaving. “Ra preserve me.”
Aten took my earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it as he

stroked me. “Say it.” His voice was a low rumble against my ear.
“And I’ll give you what you want.”

I couldn’t understand why he cared so much to have me speak

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those words, when he held proof enough in his hand. He knew I
wanted him—my body betrayed it every time he touched me. What
was the point of forcing me to say it?

The point, of course, was that it pleased some wicked part of

him to know he could goad me into doing what he liked. It wasn’t
about the words, it was just another way to prove his superiority.

“I won’t. You will have to try harder than that—to win your

bet.” My voice broke halfway through, because he slid his hand
down to cup my testicles and rolled them between his fingers.

“I relish the challenge.” The heat in his voice made me

shudder, made an answering heat flush across my skin. But I
pressed my lips together and refused to speak.

The touch of his tongue at the side of my throat, just where

neck became shoulder, made me jump. He licked, dragging his
tongue up my throat to tease at my jaw. I shut my eyes and
shivered in his arms, fighting to keep my breathing steady.

“Don’t,” I whispered without opening my eyes.
“What?” He sounded disingenuous. “This?” He lapped again,

slower, his tongue pressed flat against my skin.

I shuddered again. A low sound worked its way from my

throat.

A chill washed through me at the touch of his mouth upon the

side of my neck, and turned to ice when he scraped my skin with
his teeth. I was so tense my whole body shook, tight little tremors
that he might not have noticed, except that this was Aten and he
noticed everything.

“Are you afraid of me, Seth?” he whispered into my ear, his

hand continuing its steady movements over my cock.

“No.” I told myself there were any number of reasons it wasn’t

a lie, but they were only excuses.

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“No?” His lips curved against my neck. He closed his mouth

over my throat and sucked at it, hard enough to leave a bruise. I
squirmed away, but with his arms encircling me, there was
nowhere to go. He lapped his tongue over my stinging skin, slow
and deliberate, then scraped it with the blunt edges of his incisors.
“Are you certain?”

“Quite,” I gasped, but I couldn’t help my reaction, or the shiver

that rolled up my spine. I tried to jerk away again, but Aten
tightened his arm and scraped his thumbnail over the head of my
cock. “Stop that!”

“Why?” He moved his mouth to the other side of my throat and

sucked there, as though he meant to leave another bruise, mirroring
the first. I grabbed at his hair, trying to pull him back, but I might
as well have tried to keep the Nile in its banks. “If you are not
afraid.”

“I do not like it.” I wrenched at his hair again, harder. It may

not have affected him, but it gave me a visceral sense of
satisfaction all the same.

To my consternation, Aten simply laughed. “Ah, now that is a

lie.” He kissed down the slope of muscle between my neck and
shoulder, and set his teeth to it. “It drives you quite mad.”

He dug his teeth in a little deeper, pressing just a little harder.

The muscles in my stomach jumped, just as Aten grazed his palm
over the head of my cock.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on that. His hand

moved over my cock with a steady rhythm, squeezing firmly. The
friction was delicious, incredible. I shuddered as it sank its claws
into me, setting every nerve alight with hunger.

His tongue slid across my skin, soothing the sting where he’d

bit. He sucked again, but gently. His hips rocked against me, his

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own cock sliding against the small of my back.

“If you will not say it,” he breathed, tracing wicked patterns

over my erection, “then tell me you do not.” He lapped up a line of
sweat from my throat. “If it’s the truth.”

I couldn’t say that, either. We both knew it was a lie. I

tightened my jaw and didn’t speak a word.

He waited a moment, but I just shook my head hard and

groaned as his fist pumped over my cock. He pulled at me, laying
me down onto my back and climbed over me, trailing kisses over
my nipple, across my ribs, down my stomach. He swept his tongue
through the hollow of my navel and I groaned, surprised by the
unexpected way my body tightened in response.

He licked the skin of my hip, letting his tease me. His mouth

hovered just above my straining cock. His knees were planted at
my shoulders, positioning his hips above me. His cock hung,
swollen and dark with arousal, so close I had only to tilt my jaw up
and raise my head a little and I could taste him.

“Seth,” he murmured. “Say it.”
I shut my eyes. “You say it.”
He laughed beneath his breath. The stutter of his breath against

my skin made me suck air through my teeth. “I shall say it, if you
like. I want you.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I want
you. For the love of the gods, Seth, tell me you feel the same.”

I couldn’t bear it any longer, not with his voice throbbing in my

ears. With a moan of hunger and defeat, I curved one hand on his
flank and guided his hips down to me.

I lapped the bead of moisture from his skin first, dragging my

tongue over the trail it had left down his shaft, following it up to
the dark, bulbous head.

Aten let his breath out slowly. His tongue dabbed at my cock,

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almost tentative. I moaned and wrapped my lips around him, all
hesitation lost beneath the rising flood of desire.

Aten growled, a sharp, victorious sound and swallowed me

down.

The feel of his mouth, hot and wet and working at me eagerly,

was enough to undo any man. With his cock filling my mouth, the
intimate taste of sweat and skin and scented oil on my tongue, I
couldn’t even gasp out, No, stop, I’m too close, it’s too soon.

I didn’t have to. He drew back when I teetered on the brink of

release, moaning helplessly around the girth of his cock.

He took his mouth from me the instant before it was too much,

left me gasping and shaking. He slid one hand over my thigh in a
gentle caress. I thought he said something, but I couldn’t make it
out over the roar of my pulse.

“Don’t. Gods, Aten, don’t stop.”
He dragged the tip of his tongue all the way from the base of

my cock to its tip, but it was more of a torment than a relief. I
choked back a cry and thrashed beneath him, thrusting up against
his mouth in blatant demand. I pushed my upper body off the bed,
swallowing more of his length and sucking desperately. My only
hope, my only thought, was that maybe if I brought him to his
release, he’d allow me mine.

Aten made a sound of satisfaction that only fueled my

frustration because he was keeping me from mine. His hips moved
with the motions of my mouth and the caress of my lips, flexing so
that he slid against my tongue, filled my mouth.

I used every skill I possessed to try to bring him to his climax,

while he groaned his appreciation and trailed light fingertips
through the moisture gathered at the tip of my cock.

“Mmm. Seth, I do believe your body has betrayed you.”

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Bastard. “What do you want from me?”
Aten’s smile spread. “You know what I desire.”
The words. Those damned words. I inhaled slowly, struggling

to control my temper.

What was the cost of this one admission? A minor blow to my

pride, perhaps, and a boost to his ego. Did any of that matter? My
pride could take it, but I was sure I’d burst from my skin if I didn’t
have his mouth or hands on me this instant.

“I want you,” I snarled, bitterly resenting that he had forced me

to this.

Aten’s smile became a brilliant thing, broad and eminently

pleased with himself. Just touch me, I thought desperately. Just
don’t stop.

When he slid off me, I groaned. My skin felt chilled without his

warmth. Quickly, he rearranged himself above me until we both
faced the same direction. He settled his weight onto me, his skin
close and hot on me.

He didn’t say anything, but he cupped my cheek in his palm

and brought his mouth to mine. He kissed me, long, deep, drugging
kisses, and when I stroked my tongue against his, I could taste
myself.

I twisted beneath him, seeking more. But as soon as I pushed at

Aten, his smile evaporated. His hands wrapped around my upper
arms, holding me on my back.

“No,” he said, very quietly, but with a world of force behind it.

“You had your way last night. Tonight, it’s my turn. Now, don’t
move.”

I pushed up onto my elbows as he climbed off of me, but

otherwise obeyed. He stepped out of the bedroom and out of my
sight and I waited, watching the door for his return.

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He was only gone a moment. He returned carrying a small,

glazed jar. He climbed onto the bed, pushing my knees apart to
kneel between them. When he uncorked the jar, the room filled
with the sharp scent of herbs.

He dipped his fingers in, drew them out shining and dripping

with oil. With a faint smile, he set the jar beside the bed and slid
his oiled fingers over my cock.

I sucked in my breath at his slippery caress. When he took me

in his hand, there was hardly any friction at all, just a smooth glide
that made me groan and thrust into his fist.

He stroked me until every bit of my cock was slick with oil.

Then he shifted his weight above me, nudging my legs wider, and
retrieved the jar of oil.

He dribbled a narrow stream over me, letting it drip between

my cheeks. His fingers followed, rubbing it into my skin. One
fingertip drew a circle around my entrance, then pressed against it.
Oil-slick, it slipped in easily, stretching me.

My eyes shot open. I looked down at Aten, saw that he’d filled

his palm with the oil, stroking it over his own cock as he watched
me, his gaze so hot it burned.

I tried to sit up, pushing at his hand, but Aten’s gaze suddenly

snapped with warning. “No.” He released his cock and spread his
hand over my stomach. He held me down as he worked his finger
inside me. “I am not laughing at your convictions tonight, Seth.
And I have given your concerns the utmost of my attention.” His
finger pushed deeper, found some spot inside me that made
fractured sunlight shoot across my vision. “You are not a conquest.
I am going to fuck you because you are beautiful and impassioned
and glorious, and because the only thing I want more than to bury
myself in you is to bring you a pleasure so great you cannot bear it,

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and witness the marvelous sight of you falling apart.”

He climbed over me, sliding against my oiled skin, and drew

me into a deep, hungry kiss. When he broke away, I couldn’t
breathe at all. “If you do not want me to do that,” he said, gazing
down at me seriously, “then you may leave, and I’ll not stop you.”

He was waiting for a response, a decision, but I couldn’t speak.

I shut my eyes, struggling for control, but his words had shattered
something within me. I wanted him—I needed him, desperately. If
this was the price of having him…

He kissed me gently, his lips gliding over mine. I slid my

tongue out to graze his, grabbing handfuls of his hair to keep him
against me. As though reading my answer in my response, Aten’s
lips bore down on mine, turning the kiss powerful and demanding.

I moaned and wrapped my legs up over his hips, pulling myself

against him. The pressure and slide of his skin against my cock
chased away the last of my uncertainties.

“Fuck me,” I growled against his mouth, too far gone to even

be embarrassed by it. Perhaps in the morning, the harsh light of the
sun would leave me ashamed of what we’d done, and what I’d let
him do. But I would deal with the morning when it came. “Fuck
me,” I growled again and hauled his mouth against mine.

Aten shifted his weight onto one arm and reached between us

to position himself.

I shuddered and bore down against him, taking him into me. He

buried half his length in me with the first thrust. Our moans joined
with one another as my fingers clawed his skin at the
overwhelming sensation of him filling me.

He stilled, kissing me, but didn’t thrust any deeper until I

growled and jerked my hips against his, forcing him in farther.

His breath stuttered against my lips, then trailed off with a

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groan. I bit his lips and tightened my legs around him, pulling him
into me. The slow, steady glide of his flesh was enough to drive
me to the brink of madness.

“Now, Aten,” I groaned into his kiss. He had given me exactly

what I’d asked for, but it wasn’t enough. It was still just another
torment. “For the love of the gods—”

With a sound like an animal, he surged forward, sheathing

himself with one final, solid thrust. He tore his mouth from mine at
the last instant, and my cry echoed around us, unrestrained.

“More.” I pulled at him frantically. “It is not yet—more than I

can bear.”

Aten made a sound halfway between laugh and groan. “Shall I

give you more?” His voice rasped against my ear.

“Yes.” I dug my fingers into his shoulder and waist hard.

“More. Everything. Damn it, Aten—”

He shuddered when I growled his name and pounded into me. I

shuddered and gasped beneath him, my body seized by tremors as
his hands raced over me and his cock drove into me relentlessly.

The first threads of release wrapped around me again, tight as a

fist. I clenched around Aten and drove up to meet his thrust.

“Now,” he breathed, his breath skimming my ear. “Fall apart

for me, Seth. Now.”

To my mortification, I did, quaking and spilling myself

between us as though all I’d needed was him to ask it of me.

Aten’s gaze flared with heat as he watched my seed smear

across my stomach. He pounded into me, rocking me back upon
the bed and driving a broken cry from me, until at last he stiffened
and emptied himself into me with a long groan. He sank down
slowly, settling his weight onto me.

I released my breath, more than a little shaken by how easily

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and deftly he’d commanded my body. He lay boneless atop me,
breathing slowly. I might have thought he was asleep already,
except that his fingers traced light, aimless patterns against the
back of my neck, as though he were not quite ready to stop
touching me.

My body relaxed and settled into the bed, sliding toward

sleep’s embrace. I was on the brink of it, not quite sure whether I
was still awake or had slipped into a dream, when I felt his arm
slide around me.

“Death,” he breathed against my ear, and sent a shiver down

my spine.

If he’d said anything else, I’d have let it pass until morning.

But the trepidation that went through me at the word held sleep at
bay. I shifted restlessly in Aten’s hold, muttered groggily and with
more than a little irritation, “What?”

“You asked what I fear.” His lips moved against my skin, his

words muffled on it. “That is your answer.”

Death? Surprise drew me another step away from the oblivion

of sleep. I brought a hand up, scrubbed it gracelessly over my face,
but understanding remained elusive. What reason did a man who
could not be killed have to fear death?

I was not awake enough to make sense of it. “That’s silly,” I

answered him, exhaustion slurring my words, and only remained
aware long enough to hear his quiet answer: “Perhaps not.” And
then I was gone, lost in the world of sleep and dreams, without the
chance to fully think on his words.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 6

“I cannot stay forever, you know,” I said quietly one morning

when dawn found me yet again in Aten’s bed, naked and exhausted
after another night of carnal abandon. Nearly half a month had
passed since that day when Aten had drawn me behind his pillar
and kissed all the sense out of me, and somehow, I was still here.
Each morning, I marveled and puzzled at it anew.

Aten was still lounging in bed, though I’d nearly finished

pleating my kilt. He pushed up onto an elbow and watched me.
“Can’t you?”

“You know I cannot.”
“I know you have said it, time and again.” He sat, scratching

one hand through his hair as he watched me. “Every morning, or
near enough. But I haven’t yet heard a good reason. I told you, you

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may stay as long as you like.”

I was half-turned away already, so it was easy to take the small

step that put my back to him and hid my expression from his too-
sharp gaze.

He had said that, it was true. But he’d also said that if I left, I’d

never get an audience with him again, and every time dawn came,
or evening, and I started to think about leaving, I found an excuse
not to.

“I am a priest,” I said without facing him. “I have duties.”
“There are other priests.” I felt his warmth behind me the

instant before his hands slid over my waist. “They will not suffer
without you.” His lips grazed the back of my neck. I shut my eyes.
“And you do not want to go.”

“What on earth makes you think that?”
He laughed, the sort of laughter that was so rare from him,

quiet and intimate and so sincere that I couldn’t bring myself to
mind that he was laughing at me. “You haven’t gone yet, my Seth.
That seems proof enough, to me.”

I turned. His hands slid on my waist, so that when I was facing

him they were pressed to the small of my back, urging me forward.
“Perhaps I am just waiting to kill you.”

He grinned. His hands pressed harder and I stopped resisting.

He drew me in until we were pressed together, skin-to-skin. “Have
you decided upon another method to try?” His eyes danced with
amusement. “I hope you won’t destroy my clothing, this time.”

I sighed. It was hard to joke when it was only reminder that I’d

failed the original task that had brought me here. Now I had no
idea how such a thing might be accomplished, nor any desire to
seek such knowledge out. I didn’t want to kill him. I no longer
believed he deserved to die. I had an obligation to my temple, but

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he was right. I didn’t much want to leave.

I wasn’t sure why I stayed, except that it was easier than

coming up with a reason not to. Easier by far than trying to deny
Aten’s advances when he tried to persuade me to stay.

Every night, he kissed me until I was breathless and couldn’t

remember that I’d been talking about all the reasons why I should
leave, until I could think of nothing but how quickly I could drag
him to bed.

And then the morning came, and we played this same scene out

a dozen different ways. I reminded us both that I couldn’t stay, and
then he did this, always this—sidled up close and kissed me and
implored me not to go. He always had a hundred different reasons
I shouldn’t, but none of them meant anything.

I stayed because it was easy and I was weak. And I watched

him go about the business of being pharaoh, making decisions
when there were no good solutions, trying his best to juggle the
needs of his people against the needs of the country.

Occasionally, as I stood out of the way and watched him

struggle, I reminded myself that he had been doing it for three
generations. Was it any wonder he found the position wearying?
I’d told him I thought I could do a better job as pharaoh than he,
but the more I watched him, the more I knew it for a lie. Perhaps I
could make a halfway decent pharaoh, for a few weeks or months.
But for year after year? Decades upon decades? Who had that kind
of strength?

Who but Aten?
“I will try not to set fire to your clothing,” I assured him with a

light kiss. “But if you spend any more time trying to get me out of
mine this morning, you’ll be late. You are supposed to meet with
the High Court this morning—”

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Aten laughed and kissed me again, harder, silencing me. “Will

you be my assistant now, too?” His eyes danced. “It would solve
your dilemma neatly, wouldn’t it? I could pay you handsomely,
and you needn’t bother yourself with any of this leaving silliness.”

I stepped back, the warmth in me cooling at his offer. “I’ll not

work for you.” I turned and grabbed a handful of dates from the
bowl on the table. “It’d be just what you deserve if I left you to
wander about and show up late for all your appointments.”

“However did I manage without you?” He bent to nip at my

earlobe as we made our way out.

“I can’t imagine.”
We made our way through the halls, and I took note of the way

Aten briefly greeted those he passed, the nobles and aristocrats as
well as the servants. I no longer wondered at the affection that the
cook Nafrit had shown him. He certainly knew how to win people
over.

He had charmed me into staying this long, hadn’t he?
The matter with the High Court was Aten’s first order of

business, and I made my way to Nafrit’s kitchen to sweet-talk
breakfast from her while they conferred. Aten seemed happy
enough to have me join him in any of his duties, but the Court was
not so sanguine.

The first time I demurred, Aten had riled and stormed about his

bedchamber, snarling that he was pharaoh and if he wished me
there, then they had no reason to deny me. But I didn’t wish to
cause trouble with Aten’s closest advisors, and said as much. Now
when he was obliged to meet with them, I found some other
occupation to keep myself busy.

Often, it led me to Nafrit’s kitchen, since Aten was just as

likely to forget my need for sustenance, as he was to be

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outrageously conscientious about it. He was just as liable to sit me
before a table heaped with more food than half a dozen men could
eat as he was to lead me running about the palace all day and then
look wounded when I refused to join him in bed without a meal in
my belly.

Nafrit leaned her shoulders against the wall and watched as I

inhaled the fruit and grains she’d set before me. One eyebrow
quirked as I sucked sticky date juice from my fingertips.

“You tell that man to be sure he feeds you properly, or he’ll

have me to answer to.”

I looked up at her, startled by the ferocity of her tone—

especially over me, whom she scarcely knew at all. I dried my
fingers on the hem of my kilt and gave a grin. “I’ll tell him, to be
sure.”

“Good.” She gave a sharp nod and seemed satisfied. “You tell

him to be sure he eats a good meal now and then, too.”

Her words sent a chill of uncertainty sliding through me. I had

tried very hard not to think about Aten’s own hungers. It wasn’t
any of my business, I told myself. But the truth was that I feared
learning something I could not tolerate.

“I will,” I said to appease her. But I didn’t think I had the

courage to mention Aten’s feeding habits to his face. I thanked her
for the meal and hurried away before she could mention it again.

I usually tarried at her kitchen for longer, since Aten’s business

with the High Court was rarely finished quickly. Today, I’d have
rather suffered idleness than fill the time discussing Aten’s appetite
with Nafrit.

The chamber door was still shut when I reached it, and the

sounds of debate came from within. They hadn’t finished yet. I
moved a short distance down the hall and leaned back against the

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wall, letting out a long breath. I shut my eyes and tried to think of
anything but Aten.

“Seth?”
I straightened and turned to see who had spoken. The sight of

Khenti, High Priest of Amun and the man who had sent me here to
slay Aten, froze my blood in my veins. I stared at him, the length
of the hallway between us, sickness rising like gorge in my throat.

Too late, I remembered myself and bowed to him. I tried not to

let him so how each of his footsteps made me twitch and jump.

I straightened when he put his hand upon my shoulder. He

stared into my face, and it took all my strength not to writhe
beneath his scrutiny. At last he gave his head a small, wondering
shake.

“Amun be praised. We’d feared the worst.”
I reared back. “Sir? I… I don’t understand.”
“The pharaoh, of course! When you didn’t return, and he

remained alive… Well, we all feared for you.”

The pharaoh. It startled me to hear him called that, so distantly,

when I and everyone in the palace used his name, and were subject
to his teasing if he felt we were being overly formal. But instantly,
I recalled that Khenti had always referred to Aten by his title, as
though he couldn’t bear to speak his name. It was a god’s name,
after all, and blasphemous. I had been gone less than a month, and
I had forgotten.

“I can’t imagine why,” I managed to stammer.
Behind Khenti, the chamber door opened and the High Court

filed out. Most spared us little more than a glance, but Aten would
be out soon, and I couldn’t have been more relieved if I’d stumbled
upon an oasis in the middle of the desert.

“Can’t you?” Khenti frowned and I knew I’d misspoken, but I

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was too busy trying to catch Aten’s eye as he looked about for me
to pay the priest much mind. “The pharaoh isn’t known for his
clemency. We feared he’d had you executed!”

Aten noticed me in the same instant that Khenti spoke. I

wrenched my gaze away and stared at Khenti, appalled by the
accusation.

Aten strode toward us. He crossed his arms and lifted his brows

at Khenti’s back. “Clearly, I did not.”

Khenti froze, his expression boring into me as though it were

my fault that he’d let his tongue run loose. Behind him, Aten
fought a grin

He’d set his mouth set in a solemn line, but the

corners twitched every time he glanced my way.

He had it mastered by the time Khenti faced him. The priest

kept his back drawn straight as a papyrus stalk, his expression
closed off entirely. “Sire.”

Aten inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment to Khenti.

His gaze never wavered from him, and it didn’t warm. “What
brings you to the palace?” he asked coolly, as though he hadn’t
overheard a thing. I could have kissed him.

“I… We thought… ” Khenti scrambled briefly before he drew

himself up straight, donning all the dignity of his position. “I come
seeking our wayward priest, of course.” He gestured to me.

Aten followed his gesture, glancing at me. His expression

hardly changed, but I could see the humor lurking in the slight
creases at the corners of Aten’s eyes and the way he pressed his
lips together. Khenti would have assumed that it was in anger, and
before Opet, I’d have done the same. But now, I recognized Aten’s
attempt to restrain his amusement for what it was. He enjoyed
baiting Khenti, watching him squirm like a fish on his hook.

Of course he was. I’d have expected nothing less from him.

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“He is missed at the temple,” Khenti continued. “He has duties

to attend to.”

It was near enough what I’d said myself that very morning, but

hearing it come from him made me scowl and roll my eyes. Aten
caught me at it, of course, and nearly didn’t catch himself in time
to prevent a grin from spreading across his face.

“I have not been executed, as you can see well enough.” I

forced myself to be gracious, or at least seem to be. “I thank you
for your concern.”

Khenti’s brow furrowed. He glanced back and forth from me to

Aten several times, settling at last on the source of his ire. “I insist
that he be allowed to return to his duties at once.”

“Allowed?” Aten’s brows shot up, and he let the grin loose.

“Seth, have I once prevented you from leaving?”

I thought of his veiled threat that if I left, I wouldn’t be allowed

to return, and the way any time I spoke of leaving, he answered
with kisses and touches that undermined my determination to go.

But he hadn’t once stopped me from leaving. The worst he’d

done was convince me to stay.

“No,” I said. “Not as such.”
“There. You see? He is free to leave.” His pleasant façade fell

away. “Your business in the palace is concluded.”

Khenti spun on his heel and gestured to me imperiously.

“Come, Seth. He’s right. We are done.”

My gut clenched. I cast one wild look at Aten, and then

Khenti’s hand closed around my arm.

He dragged me two steps and Aten was suddenly before us,

standing like a wall barring our way. “You will not tolerate him
being forced to stay—well enough.” His voice was quiet and
deadly as a viper. “I will not tolerate him being forced to leave.”

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Khenti’s fingers dug into my arm. I grimaced and pulled. When

Khenti turned his frown on me, I scowled back at him and pulled
again.

He released me abruptly and drew himself up. “Seth, your

mother is worried for you. You should pay her a visit. She is under
the impression… Well. As we all were.”

It only took me an instant to realize what he meant. “You said

you thought I was executed.” Outrage made my skin hot and my
blood race. “You told my mother I was dead?”

Before coming to the palace I wouldn’t have dared it, but now,

I knew nothing but anger. My hands fisted at my sides I took two
swift, furious steps toward Khenti.

He brought his hands up, as though he might be able to stave

off my anger that way, but I was so upset I could have struck him
and not felt bad about it.

Aten put himself between us. I brought myself up short and

tried to dodge around him, but Aten held me back. He turned to
give Khenti a hard, unyielding look. “You should leave now.”

Khenti looked outraged. He drew a swift breath and opened his

mouth, and I knew he meant to say something rash. It would do
nothing but anger Aten, but I didn’t speak a word to stop him. He
could dig his own grave, as far as I was concerned.

But Khenti glanced up at Aten’s face the moment before he

spoke, and what he saw there made him swallow the words. He
pressed his lips together into a thin line that spoke of nothing more
than righteous fury.

“Good day, Khenti,” Aten said, a quiet warning, and he bent in

a slight bow. He put a light hand upon the small of my back, and
that, too, was a warning. “Seth will be along, if he wishes it.”

Khenti blew his breath out all at once and gave a forced bow in

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return, then spun. I stared after, unable to tear my gaze from him
until he’d rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Then, like a sail with its lines cut, I sagged. Aten slid his hand

around my waist and drew me against his side. I wanted to lay my
head upon his shoulder and let the shudders course through me
until they’d had their fill, but that seemed too much an admission
of weakness. Instead, I leaned my head in my hands for just a
moment, then straightened and dragged my fingers through my
hair. I drew a deep breath that shuddered when I exhaled. I drew
another, and it came out slightly steadier.

Aten watched me in cautious silence, and I could have kissed

him for that, too. The last thing in the world I wanted was to be
made to talk about any of this, and he didn’t press me. He just kept
his hand on me soothing and gentle, his presence a quiet
acceptance.

“Let’s go,” I said at last. “You’re late to meet with Mhotep to

talk about the canal project.”

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 7

Later that night we were in bed together, I eating supper with

the plate balanced atop my knees and my back against the wall
while Aten lay crosswise to me, my bent legs making a bridge over
his stomach. He had one arm over my thighs as though to keep me
there, and with the other he drew meandering patterns upon the
backs of my calves.

I kicked him with my heel when he found the ticklish spots in

the hollow behind my knees, and another beneath my thigh, then
settled when he moved on to less vulnerable territory.

“Aten,” I murmured, picking crumbs from the edge of my

plate. “Will you tell me the truth?”

“Certainly.” He reared up and took it from me before he kissed

me, holding the plate aloft with one hand while the other slid deep

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into my hair. “You have a constellation of freckles in the shape of
a staff upon your back.”

“I do not.”
“You do.” He set the plate aside and rolled me beneath him

easily, onto my stomach while he held me down. He bent over me
and his lips brushed a spot upon my lower back, just to the left of
my spine. “I promised you the truth, didn’t I?”

I sighed and relaxed beneath him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” He stretched atop me, letting his hand glide along my

side as his breath caressed my ear. “What do you want to know
about, then?”

“You.”
He stilled above me. I shut my eyes, let out a soft sigh of

disappointment. When he climbed off, I muffled an oath beneath
my breath. He wasn’t going to tell me anything. I should have
expected as much.

“What’s the question, then?” he asked briskly.
I rolled over and sat up, frowning at him in surprise and

consternation.

What to ask? There were so many questions, so many things I

didn’t know about him. Can you be killed at all? I wanted to ask,
and How, when I cannot even manage to scratch you? and What
cause do you have to fear death when you have already lived
longer than two generations of my family? I wanted to ask him,
Why did you let me stay? and Why do you keep me around? and
Did you stop me from leaving with Khenti because you want me
here, or was it just a power play between you two?

I didn’t know which to ask, or which answer I wanted most to

know. I couldn’t decide. I wanted to know them all.

When I spoke, it was with no real understanding of what it was

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that I was about to say. “What is it you really feed upon?”

My question startled me more than I expected, but Aten just

lifted his brows, his expression as mild as ever. He climbed off of
me the rest of the way and strode across the room. Something deep
within me pulled hard at the sight of him walking away, the set of
his shoulders tense now instead of relaxed.

In an instant, I contemplated a thousand different actions.

Going after him, begging him to forgive me for prying too deep,
railing at him for being such a coward, demanding that he be
honest with me just once. But I just sat and watched him, and felt
like a fool when all he did was take up the jug of wine and fill the
glass that I’d emptied with supper.

I’d never seen him eat anything, but he did drink wine

occasionally while I dined. He turned back to me, his gaze on the
cup, swirling it gently, as unreadable as stone. “That’s what you
want to know?”

“Yes.” I forced the answer out, rasping it through dry lips.
He looked up. His gaze held me immobile. I couldn’t have

moved if I’d wanted to. “Are you quite sure?”

I licked my lips, then nodded because I didn’t trust myself to

speak.

He climbed up onto the bed with me, crowding me, and any

other time I’d have let his closeness bear me onto my back. But I
wasn’t going to let him distract me that way, not this time. I braced
myself and held his gaze as he brought his body against mine. If he
didn’t want to answer the question, I was going to make him say
so.

He spread his hands on either side of my face and tilted it up,

looking down at me.

I waited.

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“What is it you’ve heard about that, then?”
“There have always been rumors. Surely you know that. They

don’t matter. I want the truth.”

He gave a sharp sigh. The corner of his mouth turned up in a

wry smile, softening his expression. “Seth, for the love of Amun,
stop being so damned obstinate and answer the question.”

“Answer mine.”
He kissed me, but I turned my face away. He chuckled once

and turned me back, held me there as he kissed me again. When he
drew away, I glowered at him.

He stroked his fingers over my brow, trying to soothe. “I will,

my Seth. Only it will be easier to answer if it happens that the
rumors you’ve heard are true. So tell me what you’ve heard, and I
will tell you the truth of it.”

I blew out my breath, irritated with him and the way he seemed

to seek out any occasion to rile me. I shoved at his shoulders,
forcing him back. Not much, not far at all, but enough to give me
room to breathe.

“I’ve heard any number of things.” I threw it out like a

challenge. “I’ve heard you bathe in the blood of innocents to
preserve your youth. I’ve heard you drink the blood, instead of
bathing. I’ve heard you live because when Ammit tried to devour
your soul, he choked and spat it back out. Some say you do not die
because you are a god in truth, but you know already I do not
believe that.”

He laughed at that last and sat back on his haunches. The

laughter softened his expression further so that he looked on me
with warm amusement. “Well. They do say many things about me,
indeed.”

“And now you will tell me the truth of it.” I didn’t make it a

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question. I was tired of the way he avoided the issue, slippery as a
fish. He’d promised me an answer, and I would have it.

“If you insist.” He slid his fingers beneath my chin, tilting it up.

His thumb grazed over my lower lip. “I don’t suppose you will
accept it if I assure you that I was born as any other man is, that I
had a mother and a father and a house full of siblings, that I played
as a boy and grew to be a man, like anyone else?”

I shook my head. The motion made his finger glide over my lip

again. “No. That’s not what I asked. That’s not what I want to
know.”

He gave a small sigh of resignation. “You will wish you hadn’t

asked, Seth.”

I shoved myself upright. “Just tell me!”
I wanted him to say it. Yes, I drink blood. I feed off other men. I

take their lives to sustain mine. I wanted him to admit it. But as I
waited, Aten dropped his gaze and a strange vulnerability passed
across his expression. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but it
made him seem sad and human.

“There are things that can be done to a man,” he began quietly.

“That change him forever, whether he wants it or no. Do you
understand that, Seth?”

I didn’t, not really, so I kept quiet and listened.
He dragged a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. I

watched as he drew himself up, hardened his expression, as resolve
settled over him and made his lips thin. “The truth, then? The truth
is that I do need blood to survive, as you need water. You want to
know what I feed upon, and that is your answer.”

“Human blood,” I said slowly, watching his face, and saw the

quick flash of reaction there, instantly masked.

“Yes.” He bent toward me, slow enough that I wondered if it

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was so he wouldn’t frighten me, as though I were a rabbit who
might spook at an instant.

His lips brushed my throat. I sucked in a sharp breath before I

could stop myself, very nearly shied away. His hands closed
around my upper arms, so any chance of escape was lost. Slowly,
he kissed me again, his lips soft on the skin of my throat, pressed
above my rapid pulse.

“But you already knew that.” He raised his head. “You have

always been afraid when I kiss you there. Do you think I’d hurt
you?”

I’d demanded the truth from him. I couldn’t help but give the

same back now. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a good answer, not by any means. But it seemed to be

the one that Aten had wanted, because his expression cleared
almost imperceptibly when I admitted it, and the set of his
shoulders relaxed.

He kissed my throat again deliberately, his gaze on me,

gauging my reaction. I shut my eyes and tensed, fighting the
temptation to any greater response.

“Do you fear me?” he asked on a whisper, his lips tickling my

skin, his tongue grazing it, his teeth. He didn’t bite or scrape my
skin, but the threat was there and made me shiver.

“Sometimes,” I answered him, just as quietly, just as honest.
His lips curved against my skin. “I can’t imagine why.” He

shifted his weight on the bed, leaning forward, into me. I threw an
arm behind me to brace myself, but he continued to bear me back
until I couldn’t support the both of us any longer, and I dropped
down onto my back.

He stretched atop me, holding me with one hand on my hip, the

other buried in my hair. He gently drew my head to the side, baring

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my throat. My lungs seized, but I kept my mouth pressed shut and
didn’t betray my fear.

He kissed my throat lavishly, lips and tongue dragging over the

skin. I shivered, mostly with trepidation, but a small part of me
wasn’t thinking about Aten’s teeth or his appetite. It knew only the
nearness of the man I desired, and the feel of his mouth on my
skin. The second time I shivered it had less to do with fear than
desire, but I wasn’t about to let passion convince me to let my
guard down.

“Do you kill?” I asked on a tight breath, trying to ignore the

way his body settled down against mine.

He stilled above me for a moment, then gave a sigh that blew

against my throat before taking his mouth from my skin to answer
me. “Not when I can help it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s not a no.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” He released the hand in my hair and

tucked it beneath my chin, tipping my face up to him. I opened my
eyes and met his gaze without flinching, just to prove that I could.
“What would you have me say, Seth? There have been times when
I couldn’t get what I needed. If you were starving, truly starving,
and found a banquet laid before you, could you restrain yourself to
a few small bites? Or would your hunger drive you to devour all
you could hold?”

His gaze was on my face as he asked the question, and I

realized he wasn’t simply making a point. He wanted an answer,
waited for one. I ran the tip of my tongue over my lips and tried to
imagine what I would do in such a situation.

“It wouldn’t hurt anyone if I ate my fill at a banquet table,” I

said at last.

“That’s not an answer.”

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It wasn’t. I knew it. “I don’t know. But I don’t think I could

bear to hurt someone else.”

Unexpectedly, Aten’s expression changed, humor creasing the

corners of his eyes and turning up the edges of his mouth. He
circled my wrists in his fingers and drew them up between us. “Is
that so?” He unfurled my fingers and pressed a kiss against each
palm. “How quickly you forget. You seemed quite determined to
do me harm, and only a few weeks ago.”

I flushed. “That’s different.”
He laughed at me gently. “Is it now?”
“Of course.” I tried to pull my hands from his grasp, but he

wouldn’t release them. “I had a reason.”

His brows lifted. “So it’s acceptable to hurt or kill another,

provided you can justify the act?” His thumbs brushed over the
pulse in my wrists. “And I suppose starving to death is not
justification enough? But disliking me is?”

I grimaced at the way he twisted my words and left me no

recourse. “No.” I spat the words out. “I never thought it would be
acceptable for me to kill you. I was willing to shoulder the cost.
But I did it for the good of the country, not for myself.”

“Is that so?” He kissed my wrists, each in turn, lingering so that

I could feel my pulse beating against him. “If it will reassure you,
I’ll swear I take every effort to ensure I don’t harm those I feed
from, beyond the necessary.”

I gave a harsh laugh and tried to twist out from beneath him,

but Aten’s expression abruptly hardened. He braced his hand on
my shoulder, holding me down. His gaze caught mine and refused
to let me break away. “Tell me, Seth, which would be worse? For
me to take a little from others, frequently? Or to abstain until my
hunger is overwhelming, and I cannot help but kill? Would that be

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better?”

I slanted my gaze away. I wanted him to get off of me. I

wanted to be able to rise and pace the room, to purge this anxious
energy from me. “No. There are no good choices.”

“You’re right. There aren’t.” The intensity in his voice eased,

and I found I could breathe again. “All I can do is the best I’m
able. If you’re looking for an apology for what I do, you won’t find
one. I do the best I can, within my limits. Who can ask for more
than that?”

I let out my breath carefully. I wanted to tell him that I thought

what he did was dreadful, that there was a third option available to
him that he hadn’t even acknowledged, and would hurt no one. But
Aten was not the sort to lay himself down and accept death. I
didn’t think it was in him to do that, not even when living meant
living off of others.

“Do you hurt them?” I hated myself for not being able to let it

go. It would’ve been easier if I could have accepted what he said
for what it was worth, and not looked too closely or tried to lift it
up and examine what was beneath the surface. But it wasn’t in me
to accept blindly, any more than it was in Aten to lay down his life.
I couldn’t help but pick at it like a scab, relentlessly, until I had
seen all that it hid.

Aten’s lips thinned as he looked down at me, not humor at all,

simply impatience. “When I must. It’s not ideal. Often, it’s not
necessary.”

I couldn’t help my dubious look. I shot it at him before I could

restrain myself.

Aten smiled, but the expression was a grim one, not the sort I

was used to from him. That, I did regret. I liked his smile, when it
was genuine. This was a perversion, twisted and rueful.

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“It’s true.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over my throat.

“If you weren’t so frightened of me, I could show you.”

A small sound worked its way from my throat. I strained back,

pressing into the bed. Aten sighed and kissed my throat again. His
thumb grazed over the other side, from my collar up to the soft
spot beneath my jaw.

“Don’t you think there would be far worse rumors about me if

I’d spent a hundred years inflicting agony upon those I fed from?”

Fear battered at me, the waves rolling in harder the longer he

kept his mouth pressed to my throat. I struggled to think clearly
beyond my panic.

It did seem, with all the terrible rumors I had heard about him,

that I’d have heard something about him sucking dry hundreds or
thousands of people in his lifetime, if it were true that he had.
Surely his opponents would have seized upon that and used it to
strengthen their arguments. I couldn’t imagine any of our people
not taking issue with a king who used his subjects so.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, wedging my arms

between to push at him so I could breathe and think clearly. I
hardly knew which way was up when he pressed against me like
this.

“You… you want to feed from me?” I shivered at the thought. I

twisted beneath him, pushing harder. “Gods. How can you ask
such a thing?”

He pushed my arms down and leaned his weight forward,

bearing me down again. “I want to show you. What it is.” He
cupped my cheek. “What it can be.”

I shook my head again, harder, and fought to get out from

beneath him. “I will not be your meal. If that’s all I am to you—”

He rolled, so swiftly it stole my breath, pulling me on top of

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him. I stared down at him, stretched on his back while I straddled
his hips.

He slid his hands up my spine, urging me closer but allowing

me to resist.

“What are you doing?” I demanded
“You are not a meal, Seth.” His voice was nearly a growl. His

eyes narrowed with impatience. “Any more than you were a
conquest the first time. But I don’t want you to fear me.” He lifted
his hands from my back and held them up, fingers splayed. “I
won’t hold you, won’t keep you. I won’t force you. But if you
choose, this is something we could share with one another.”

“My blood.”
“Yes.” He moved his hands. I flinched, but he only lowered

them to his sides. The backs of his fingers brushed my knees, but
only that. “And my bite.”

“I rather think you’d be getting the better half of that bargain.”
Aten’s smile spread across his face, slow but real and warm.

“You’re wrong. It can be a wonder, if done with kindness and
care.”

“Or it can kill,” I said flatly.
He scoffed. “If I were young and inexperienced, yes, but I am

neither of those things. I am not wholly governed by my appetites,
any more than you are.” He levered himself up with his elbows,
closing the distance between us, and since he didn’t touch me or
move to restrain me, I let him. But I trembled like a bird as he
dragged his tongue up the column of my throat, and nearly bolted
at the graze of his teeth.

“Aten.” My voice shook.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me. His gaze burned. I

wanted what he promised me, but my fear and desire were evenly

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matched. I couldn’t decide between the two.

“I named myself Aten for a reason, you know,” he said quietly.
I blinked down at him, confused by this abrupt admission that

had nothing to do with anything. But Aten continued without my
having to ask.

“The sun, you see. It’s the source of strength and life for me as

much as for my land and my people.” His mouth quirked with a
wry smile. “Perhaps more so.”

I shook my head, no less bewildered. “What does that mean?”
He still didn’t touch me, but his gaze was as potent as a

physical touch, drawing me in, inviting more. “It means, my Seth,
that if you had driven your stake against me on the night of the
new moon instead of the full, you might have had an altogether
different result.”

I stared down at him as the full impact of his confession settled

into me. His gaze flickered across my face. After a moment when I
still hadn’t managed a response, he gave me a crooked smile and
tipped his head in that mischievous way he had. “It also means that
I was, perhaps, somewhat less than honest when I insinuated I
couldn’t be killed at all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re afraid of me.” He lifted one hand and ran it over my

cheek, my neck, my shoulder. His thumb brushed down my throat,
following the vein. “Because I’m stronger than you. Because if you
place your trust in me and I’m not worthy of it, I could kill you in
an instant.”

I shivered as he laid out so boldly all the fears that tangled

within me.

He grazed his thumb over my lower lip, increased the pressure.

“What I am telling you is that we are not so unmatched as you

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might fear. Not tonight, with the new moon nearly upon us.” He
reared up, covered my mouth with his and nibbled on my lip where
his thumb had just been. “I shall fetch you a stake with a tip sharp
as a flint knife, if having it at hand would ease your mind.”

“All that, for a meal?”
His mouth turned down, his brows lowering. “Not for a meal,

Seth. For you.”

I let my breath out slowly, shut my eyes. “I don’t want a stake,”

I murmured. “I would likely forget I held it, and run you through
accidentally, and then where would we be?”

He moved his hand to my back, ran it up and down in a light

caress, his fingertips barely brushing over my skin. “What do you
want?”

“Promise me,” I whispered. “On whatever you hold most

sacred. Promise you will not hurt me.”

I opened my eyes to see if he would make the oath or not. He

held my gaze solemnly as he said, “I swear by the sun in the sky
and the breath in my body that I will not harm you, and should you
change your mind at any moment, I will stop immediately.” He
cupped my face and laid a kiss upon my mouth. “You have my
oath, my sworn word. On my honor.” One hand trailed down,
fingertips resting against the pulse in my throat. “I will make it
pleasurable.”

Quickly, before I lost my nerve or talked myself out of it, I

squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. Aten slid his hands to the back
of my neck and drew me in. His lips grazed my throat. I repressed
the shiver that ran through me, reminding myself that he had
promised and I had consented. There was no cause for fear.

His word, that’s all? a voice in the back of my mind mocked.

What value can you place on the oath of a man who lives on the

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blood of others?

None at all, really. But I was choosing to trust him. I wanted

him to be worthy of it.

He parted his lips and dragged his tongue along my throat. I

leaned in, deliberately pressing against his mouth and urging him
on. There was no point in doing otherwise.

The first, slight touch of his teeth against my skin made me

jump. I braced for it, my hands closing on Aten’s shoulders. But he
only sighed and took his teeth from my skin, kissing me again with
only his lips.

“Relax.” He slid his hands over my back. I shivered at the

touch, too close to restraint for my liking. But I’d consented, and I
didn’t want to recant now. “Seth, you must relax, or I won’t be
able to keep from hurting you.”

It was not reassuring. I shut my eyes, trying to force myself to

relax. I drew slow, deep breaths, urging my muscles to ease and
the tension to leave me. When I had done a moderately decent job
of it, Aten lightly scraped my throat with his teeth again. In an
instant, I was so tense I quivered.

I had a foolish urge to apologize, but before I could Aten

wrapped his arm around my shoulders and rolled, putting me onto
my back again.

I tried to struggle out from beneath his weight, but he writhed

down my body, freeing me from it, and lifted the folds of my kilt
aside. I only had time to draw a swift breath before he took my
cock into his mouth, swallowing my whole length at once.

I moaned and arched up beneath him, fear forgotten as his

wicked mouth made set me alight. I buried my fingers in his hair
and arched up, sliding against his lips in search of more.

He held my hips to the bed. I groaned and bucked against his

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restraint, but his mouth was eager and hungry, sucking at my cock
as though he couldn’t get enough of it. He worked the tip of his
tongue over the slit at the head of my cock and I moaned, throwing
my head back as shudders of ecstasy rippled through me. He
pressed my erection against my stomach and kissed down the
underside, his lips stoking fires everywhere they touched.

He lapped and suckled at the base of my cock, when he reached

it, then nudged my knees wider and settled deeper between my
legs. His fingers traced patterns over my testicles, rolled them
between his fingertips with a firm touch as he kissed across my
pelvis.

He kissed the hollow of my hip, then continued his attentions

down, following the crease of my thigh until his head was buried
between my legs, his lips and tongue teasing my skin to exquisite
sensitivity.

I thrust my fingers deeper into his hair and dragged him against

me. He parted his lips, sucking at my skin and dragging his tongue
across it. Distantly, I felt a slight prick, realized that it was the
points of his fangs pressing to my skin. Before I could react, he
closed his mouth over me and drove them deep.

I thrashed beneath him but his hands were on my hips, holding

me down. His mouth worked against my skin, sucking. A rushing
sensation of heat flowed from me, and an entirely different sort of
heat replaced it.

I let out my breath and relaxed beneath him all at once. I freed

one hand from his hair and groped until I found his. I drew it to my
cock, curled his fingers around it.

He didn’t need any more prompting than that. As he drank, he

closed his fist around me and stroked, matching his rhythms so that
with every upstroke, I felt the pull of his mouth on the bite. Every

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time his hand slid down, his tongue grazed my skin and his throat
worked, swallowing down the blood he took from me.

He squeezed on the next downstroke, tightening his grip. I

gasped and jerked my hips up unthinking, thrusting into his fist and
forcing his teeth deeper into my vein. He groaned and sucked
harder, drank more, as his hand moved faster over me.

I braced my heels against the bed so I could repeat the motion,

rocking up into each stroke, driving myself into his bite. I still had
my other hand fisted in his hair, and I clenched my fingers,
dragging at him. “Don’t stop,” I hissed, and shuddered again.

He didn’t. His hand drove me on and his mouth worked at me

until heat gathered at the base of my spine and burst from me,
sending me shuddering and convulsing against him.

Aten gave a wrenching moan as my climax released me from

its grip and I sank onto the bed again. He withdrew his fangs from
me, and I shuddered at the sensation. I glanced down and watched
as he dabbed his tongue over the wound, licking up the drops of
blood that welled sluggishly from the two punctures.

They only bled for a moment. Aten raised his head and climbed

up the bed, sliding his body against mine. When he was even with
me, I draped an arm over his side and rolled in against him, laying
my head against his chest.

He chuckled and drew his fingers through my hair. “There,

now,” he said, his voice warm and satisfied. “Tell me that did not
please you.”

“It was not what I expected,” I admitted. I reached between us

and pressed my fingers to the bite. There was a slight twinge, but
little more than that. It was a mild discomfort at worst. “It’s always
like that?”

He laughed and pressed his hips to mine, capturing my

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softening cock between us. “Like that? No. Hardly.” A smile
warmed his voice. “There are other ways to make it a pleasurable
experience, but you were not cooperating.”

I murmured noncommittal acknowledgment and shut my eyes.

I felt lazy and replete. My head was slightly fuzzy, and I wondered
if it was from the blood, or the intensity of the climax he’d brought
me to. I wasn’t sure it mattered, not in this moment. Perhaps I’d
feel differently in the morning. For now, I wanted sleep.

Aten seemed inclined to indulge me. He kept his arm draped

loosely across my waist, his chest broad and warm beneath my
cheek. I settled myself more comfortably against him and let it
claim me completely.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

CHAPTER 8

Aten stood at the window, staring out at the palace grounds as

morning sunlight washed across it. I had been watching him, but
he’d hardly moved for an age, and my hunger rose to assert itself,
so I’d left him to his contemplation of the landscape and eaten my
breakfast.

Now, I had finished my meal and he was still there, staring

intently, as still as a painting. “What on earth is so enthralling out
there?” I crossed my arms over my chest, head tilted to the side.

He shifted a little at my words, turned his head slightly to

glance back at me, but didn’t answer me. After a moment, I
shrugged and sucked a wayward bit of honey from where it had
smeared across my knuckle.

“Seth,” he said abruptly. There was some strange intensity to

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his tone that made me glance up. “Do you want to go see your
mother?”

My brows shot up at the question and the way he phrased it, as

though we were continuing some conversation I hadn’t been aware
we were having. “Why?” I asked warily.

“She will be grieved, won’t she? If she’s been led to believe

you’re dead.” He still didn’t look at me, even as he spoke. His gaze
was riveted by something beyond the window, but I couldn’t see
what it might be. The sun was rising above the horizon, casting
light across the city below it. The crescent moon hung near the
opposite horizon, pale and wan in the face of the sun’s brilliance.

“She will be,” I said slowly. “I should like to go reassure her

that her fears are baseless. But—” I glanced sidelong at him. But
you haven’t said that I’ll be allowed to return, and I am not ready
to give this up just yet.

“You should go.”
I rocked back, frowning at him. He said it brusquely. It didn’t

sound like a man’s assurance that I should see to my mother and
ease her mind. It sounded like a pharaoh’s dismissal.

He turned toward me, away from the window. There was

something distant in his gaze that hadn’t been there since the night
of Opet, when first we’d met. Cold washed over me. “The augurs
say an eclipse is coming.” He gestured through the window,
toward the sun and moon that both hung in the sky. “It’s a bad
omen. You should go and comfort her.”

I stared at him. The chill spread, hardening everything that his

touches and kisses had softened in me over the past weeks. I
crossed my arms over my chest, faced him squarely. “My mother
is my concern. If you want me to leave, you should say so.”

He swept me over with an impassive gaze. “Didn’t I just?”

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I drew my breath swiftly, but he turned away before I could

reply, looking out at the sky again.

It was just as well. I was too angry to speak, and feeling like

too much a fool to trust my voice. I stalked about the room,
snatching up what few things I possessed and feeling like the
biggest fool on the Nile.

In only a moment, I had all my meager possessions in hand,

and I stood staring at his back, quivering with rage. “May Anubis
damn your soul to Ammit’s maw.”

He turned, his expression showing only mild surprise.
“I should have known better than to trust your word. I did

know better, and I thought—” I broke off. Never mind that. I had
thought him deserving of it, and that was my own failing. “Damn
you. If all you wanted was a meal after all, you should have turned
to someone else. Not me.” I shook, and my voice was beginning to,
as well. I hated my body for betraying my weakness, hated him for
bringing me to this point, hated myself for not knowing better in
the first place.

Aten took a single step toward me, but I retreated, lifting my

hand. “Seth—”

“Don’t.” I brushed past him, toward the door. “You’ll have

your wish. I’m gone.”

“Wait.” I heard him hurrying after me.
I stopped, a stride away from the door. I shut my eyes, hating

myself for it. “Make up your mind. If you want me gone, then let
me go.”

He touched my shoulder. I jerked away, but he only grabbed

my arm and forced me around.

When I was facing him, I pulled out of his grip and crossed my

arms before my chest, glaring, waiting to see what it was he had to

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say to me now.

He stared at me. I hadn’t the slightest idea what his expression

meant. He drew a breath, then held a hand up as he backed away,
casting a glance over his shoulder. “Wait. Just wait… ”

He turned, rummaged for something with his back to me. I

glanced at the door and considered leaving anyway, but then he
returned.

He gripped a heavy iron key in his fist, with the royal staff-and-

flail insignia embossed upon its bow. He squared his shoulders and
extended it toward me. When I just looked at him and made no
motion to take it, he pressed it to my palm and curled my fingers
around the shank. “Take it.”

“Why?”
The corners of his mouth turned down into a grim expression.

“This here… ” He touched a finger to the staff-and-flail insignia.
“This will grant you access to any part of the palace you care to
visit. Show them this, and no guard will stop you. And the key… ”
He caught my eye briefly, then looked away. “Eclipses… They’re
never a good time for my kind. I told you about the sun.” He
fingered his chest, above his heart where I’d tried to stake him. “I
always spend them in seclusion. Always.” He covered my hand
with his, clasped it firmly. “But this key will unlock the chamber
door. It is the only copy. And it’s yours.”

I looked down at the key in my hand, fingering the cut-outs on

the bit. “Why would you give this to me?”

“You trusted me.” He released my hands and took a step back.

“I am doing the same.”

“With this, and with what you’ve told me… ” I turned my gaze

back to him. “I could kill you.”

His throat worked. “If you were so inclined.”

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I shook my head. “Why would you tell me this?”
A long moment passed in silence. Then he sighed and brushed

his thumb over the emblem on the key’s head. “Because I would
like you to come back.”

I stared at the key in my hand, tangible evidence of the

permission I’d secretly hoped for, to return if I left. To stay, if I
wanted.

I looked up at him, stricken. “Aten—”
He turned away quickly and busied himself with his back to

me. “You should go now. One shouldn’t let one’s mother fret
needlessly.”

In the end, everything I might say seemed insignificant and

feeble, at best. I swallowed the rock of emotions that had lodged in
my throat, gripped the key in my fist, and left Aten to contemplate
the sky.

* * *

My mother wept when she saw me. She threw her arms about

my neck and kissed me as tears dripped down her cheeks like rain.
I felt like a terrible son for not reassuring her sooner. I took her in
my arms and told her again and again, as many times as she needed
to hear it, that I was fine and well and yes, I’d had an audience
with the pharaoh, but he hadn’t harmed me, not at all.

She seemed disinclined to believe me, despite the proof of my

presence. I led her inside and sat her down, and allowed her to feed
me until my stomach ached because it made her feel better. When
she demanded that I stay the night, I acquiesced without protest. It
was the least I could do.

We drank and ate and talked long into the night. She wanted to

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

know everything about the weeks I’d been gone, about Aten—
though she was incapable of speaking his name, and only referred
to him as that man, spitting the epithet in venomous tones—about
where I had been and what I had been doing and why.

I struggled to answer her as best I could, but I didn’t have good

responses to many of her questions. What had I been doing in the
half-month I had spent in the palace with Aten? Nothing much at
all, and it sounded like even less when I tried to explain it. What
had I done? I had tagged along after Aten like a child clinging to
his mother’s skirt. He had always made an effort to ask my advice
and include me in his deliberation, but it still wasn’t much for
weeks worth of work.

I explained as best I could the revelations I had had about Aten,

in the time that I’d spent with him. I told her about how hard he
tried to make the best decisions when no good ones were presented
to him, and how it had made me doubt my previous convictions
about him. My mother scoffed and made uncharitable comments
about his character, but as she had spent the better part of a month
thinking that I was dead at his hand, I didn’t begrudge her the
bitterness.

Eventually, the hour grew late and my mother retired to bed,

after extracting another promise from me that I would stay at least
a few days more. Though she slept, and I was weary from the
emotions of the day, I found myself tossing in bed, unable to rest.

I rose well into the night, when I’d finally given up on sleep,

and sat outside gazing at the narrow strip of darkened sky and
brilliant stars that were visible above the crowded street. The moon
sat poised at one end of the alley, a crescent as thin as a needle that
cast hardly any light at all, and left the city below it choked with
shadows.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

I watched it make its arc across the sky, thinking of Aten.

Emotion tightened my chest even now as I recalled our
conversation of the morning and all the things he’d said, hurtful
and startling both.

The augurs all predicted the eclipse tomorrow, and Aten would

lock himself away from the world, as vulnerable as any man. I
fingered the key, hanging from a thong I’d tied about my belt,
tucked into the folds and pleats of my kilt.

The only copy, he’d said. It was a gift as well as a weapon,

deadlier even than the stake I’d brought to the palace those few
weeks before, which seemed as distant as a lifetime. I could kill
him with it.

I shifted where I sat upon the step. A spot high on the inside of

my thigh throbbed, reminding me that only the night before, our
positions had been reversed. He could have killed me then, easily.
But I’d trusted him, and he hadn’t taken advantage of it. And he’d
put that same trust in me.

Because I would like you to come back, he’d said. I shut my

eyes and leaned the back of my head against the mud brick wall,
overcome.

Any answers the night held for me were as useless and feeble

as the ones I’d provided to my mother. In the end, it was closer to
dawn than dusk by the time I finally returned inside. I slid into bed
for a few fitful hours of sleep before morning and my mother’s
cooking woke me.

* * *

I was still a priest of Amun, no matter how I’d neglected my

duties of late, and it seemed only fitting that I go to the temple on

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100

this, the day when the moon would cover the sun and cast us all
into darkness.

At the temple, I bathed and anointed myself in oil, then

presented myself before our statue of the god, knelt on the floor
and bowed my head to pray.

Only weeks before, it had been a simple matter to sink into a

state of contemplation and reverence. Today, I could hardly
manage to remain still as I kneeled there upon the tiles before the
god I’d pledged my devotion and service to.

I thought of Aten and flushed with guilt to be doing so here,

where everyone but me considered him a false god and a
blasphemer.

I shut my eyes tightly and thought with all the force in me,

Amun, lord of truth, father of the gods, maker of men, lord of
things that are, creator of the staff of life, he is not your enemy. He
is just a man. If the years of my service and devotion mean
anything to you, please, keep him safe in these hours of darkness.

I thought of Aten in his rooms the previous morning, looking

out the window and saying that the augurs had declared the eclipse
an ill omen. Keep us all safe, I amended, and rose.

There was little point in staying. I’d said everything that I had

in me to say, and the constant, silent presence of the other priests
filled me with nervous energy. I went home, to sit with my mother
and wait for the sky to darken.

I explained to her the augurs’ predictions, that the moon would

mask the sun and block us all from its light, and assured her of my
belief that there was nothing to fear. I didn’t believe it, though, not
truly, and she seemed little reassured.

We sat together, out upon the step, and watched the shadow eat

at the sun’s disc, swallowing it into darkness.

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101

I looked out into the distance. I could see little beyond the other

buildings on the opposite side of the street, but I knew in which
direction lay the palace, and I thought about Aten, weakening,
alone in seclusion.

I reached, unthinking, to finger the key at my hip, but I

couldn’t find it among my kilt’s folds. I frowned, dragged my
attention from the window looked down to locate the loop of the
thong where it circled my belt, but it wasn’t there.

I felt as frozen as the sun in the sky, the chill of fear washing

through me. How could I have lost the key? I was a hundred times
a fool, a thousand. He had placed this trust in me, and I was
unworthy of it.

I leaned my head in my hands, the heels of my palms pressed

against my eyes, and tried to think what I might have done with it.
I was not careless in nature. I would not have left it anywhere. And
in any case, there would have been no opportunity, except—

Except that I had bathed at the temple, and left my kilt and belt

by the poolside. I had stayed near, as I bathed, but there had been
so many other priests walking about that I’d taken little notice of
their movements.

The priests, I thought, swallowing despair. The priests who

wanted nothing in the world more than they wanted Aten dead, and
I had handed them the means to achieve it. I would not put such
treachery and theft past Khenti.

The staff and flail stamped upon the key’s head would have

made it obvious where the key came from. And it would grant
whoever bore it unlimited access to anywhere in the palace they
cared to go, even the chamber in which Aten had secluded himself.

The chamber where he was now, alone and vulnerable in a way

that he would never be again, not for a hundred years or longer,

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102

until the next eclipse came.

They’re never a good time for us, he’d said.
My god. He was going to die. He wouldn’t even see it coming.
I threw myself out of the chair and at the door. My mother ran

after me, calling my name in querulous tones.

“Seth? Seth, where are you going? You shouldn’t be out!” She

cast an anxious look at the sky, where stars shone down upon us in
the middle of the day.

“The palace.” I returned to clasp her hands and kiss her cheek.

“I must go. Do not fear, Mother. The sun will return, as it always
does.”

She looked unconvinced, but I couldn’t stay and reassure her.

She would survive the eclipse, but Aten…

I spun and ran.

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103

CHAPTER 9

I did not account for the guards.
They flanked the entrance, staffs and spears at the ready, their

expressions grim, and eyed everyone who approached with wary
hostility. I would never make it past them, not without the key as
my pass. I would have to find some other way.

Nafrit’s kitchen, I thought suddenly. It sat against the palace

wall. And she knew me, was fond of me. She might let me in, if I
could find her.

I skirted around the palace grounds, through the low brush that

did nothing to hide me. I kept close to the wall and wondered in
passing if I might be the only man in the Two Kingdoms who
found himself grateful for the blanket of darkness the eclipse had
thrown over our land.

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104

I crept down the length of the wall, trying to match my

movements to the haphazard map I kept held in my thoughts.
When I’d reached the place on the wall that I thought stood
opposite Nafrit’s welcoming kitchen, I gazed up at the crest of the
wall, hoped I was right, and jumped.

My fingers caught at the edge of the bricks and I clung on just

barely, but already I could feel my hold slipping, my grip
weakening. I scrabbled at the wall’s smooth-polished surface with
my sandaled feet, propelling myself up in small increments,
slipping back down almost as much as I dragged myself up.

At last, I hauled myself up high enough that I could lean my

chest against the flat top of the wall and drag my legs over. I lay
there for just a moment, catching my breath, before I rolled and
dropped down to the other side.

“Who’s that?” a booming voice demanded, sending me

cowering back against the wall. “If you lot think you can come into
my kitchen and steal my cooking—”

“Nafrit?” I rushed forward, then had to leap back to avoid a

wild swing from Nafrit’s heavy stirring spoon. “Nafrit!”

She faltered. “Who’s that?” she demanded again, wondering

now rather than belligerent. “Seth? Gods above, I near took your
head off. What are you doing climbing walls like a thief?”

I shook my head, ignoring her question. There wasn’t time.

“Please, do you know where Aten is?”

She pulled a face and shrugged as she set her spoon back down.

“Hiding from the eclipse, same as everyone else.” She cast a look
up at the sky and snorted. “Except me, because gods know, even
when the augurs are foretelling doom and destruction, people want
their supper on time.” She dropped her gaze down and pierced me
with it. “And you. What are you doing running about climbing

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105

over walls? You look like death.”

I shook my head again and waved her questions away. “I know

he’s hiding. Where? Please, Nafrit!”

She shook her head slowly, frowning at me. “You think I know

that? Why would he tell me such a thing?”

I groaned and pushed past her, through the door that led back

into the palace, open and unguarded. She called out after me in
bewilderment, but not alarm.

I just ran. Explanations could wait until later.
But where? That was the question. Where? Not his chambers,

with the window that looked out over the city and would provide
easy access to anyone intrepid enough to climb through it. He
would want somewhere more secure than that, somewhere with
only one entrance to worry about, locked and guarded and now
jeopardized because he’d placed his trust in a fool.

I searched the meeting chambers we had visited, which seemed

a likely choice given the enclosing walls and limited access, but
they were all vacant. The High Council’s court was similarly
unoccupied, and the store room that I thought might have provided
an innocuous place to shelter proved to be unlocked, unguarded, its
door ajar and the sounds of idle conversation coming from within.

I ran, ignoring the indignant cries of those I nearly crashed into

in my haste, dodging around anyone who stood in my way,
searching, praying with all the strength I had in me.

A flash of movement caught my eye and I skidded to a stop.

My body went cold at the brief, liquid gurgling sound that came
from the adjoining hallway.

I crept back and peered around the corner in time to see

someone down the hall slump to the floor, joining another body
already there. They lay in a spreading crimson pool. I recognized

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106

the man who stepped over them with a jolt of fear and resolution.

I’d found Aten, but Khenti had found him first.
I darted down the hall as he unlocked the door and stepped

through, out of sight. The bodies he’d left in the hall were Aten’s
guards, their throats cut through and gaping red.

I shuddered and crouched to take the knife from the limp hand

of the guard nearest me, then stepped across the growing pool of
their blood, following Khenti into Aten’s sanctuary.

He hadn’t noticed me, not yet. I strained to look past him, to

find Aten, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

He’d have smelled the blood. If he had any sense in him, he’d

have hidden.

The room was a large atrium, its roof open to the sky, its walls

crowded with ferns and green, living things. It was like stepping
out of the desert and into an oasis. There was even a little tiled
pool in the back, big enough for one man to enjoy. With the sun
overhead, it would have gathered light and shone like gold, but
today there was only the eclipse in the sky above us, the sun’s
flames licking out from behind the moon’s shadow, eerie and
foreboding.

Khenti stopped a few steps into the atrium, looking about for

Aten as well. I clenched my fist around my knife, anger rising in
me like floodwaters. I threw myself at him, a ferocious growl
rising up from some place inside of me until I felt and sounded as
wild as a lion.

Khenti turned, his eyes flying wide as I launched myself at

him. He spun away, not enough to keep me from crashing into him
and throwing us both to the ground, but enough to send my knife
slicing across his side instead of plunging into his chest.

He swore and backhanded me, knocking me off of him. We

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107

both scrambled to our feet, but my legs shook, weak from my
sprint across the city and through the palace. He rose before I was
able to.

I groped backward as he advanced on me, his face dark with

fury. Someone was shouting my name, or I thought they were, but
it was hard to hear anything over the pounding of my pulse and I
didn’t dare take my gaze from Khenti for even an instant.

He shifted his knife in his grip as he stood over me, then struck

as fast as a serpent, stabbing down, but I threw myself away from
his attack in the last instant.

My weight slammed into Khenti’s shins, throwing him to the

floor. I snatched up my knife and threw myself atop him before he
could rise again.

He lashed out at me. A fist connected squarely with my side,

just below my ribs, driving a cry from me. My grip weakened as
the shock of the blow rocked through me, but I tightened it before I
could drop the knife again. When Khenti made another swing at
me, I knocked the hand with his knife away and dragged myself up
so that more of my weight was on top of him and he couldn’t wrest
himself free.

Only then, distantly, did I become aware of the hands biting

into my shoulders, dragging at me, the frantic cry of my name like
a mantra. “Seth, Seth, Seth!” The smell of frankincense
surrounding me like an embrace.

I battled Aten’s hands away, snarling, “He was going to kill

you,” and threw myself over Khenti again, my hands reaching for
his neck, wanting to squeeze and rend until I had wrung all the
terror and rage from me like water from a cloth.

Aten dragged me back again before I could manage it, pressed

against my back and wrapped his arms around my shoulders to

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108

hold me to him. I shook and fought against him, uselessly now,
trying not to do something as ridiculous as bursting into tears.

“Stop,” he breathed against my ear, holding me so tight it

ached. “Just stop. Enough now.”

I drew a shuddering breath, and another, fighting for steadiness

while my body seemed inclined to shake itself to pieces. Khenti
glared at me, full of hatred but passive for the moment. I knocked
the knife from his hand and sent it skittering across the floor, then
ran my hands over my face, my chest, the place on my side where
his fist had landed.

I expected a bruise, tender, maybe swollen, but the flesh gave

way too easily beneath my fingers, soft and wet. Agony doubled
me over. When I pulled my hands away, they were dark and
dripping with blood.

It slid down my side from the long, thin wound I hadn’t

noticed, soaked into my kilt, made it heavy and sticky. I pressed
my hands to the wound, not a bruise but a stab, and tried helplessly
to stop the flow.

This was wrong. It was all wrong. I hadn’t even felt it.
“Seth? What is it?” Aten’s voice turned sharp with concern. He

slid to the side, pressed forward so he could see. Blood trickled
over my knuckles like water rolling down stone. Aten’s face turned
ashen.

Khenti moved suddenly, fast as lightning, grabbing the knife

from my hand and driving it forward in a smooth motion. Too late,
I realized what we’d done, that Aten had been behind me, but now
he’d moved out from behind what meager protection I could offer
and he was staring at my blood as though transfixed. He didn’t
even see—

I threw myself forward without thought, between Aten and the

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109

blade that was flashing down. This time I saw it, watching as
though from a great distance as it sank into my stomach instead of
Aten’s chest. For an instant, the space of a single heartbeat, I stared
down at the knife’s hilt, pressed flush to my skin as though there
were no blade at all.

And then the pain seized me as it hadn’t the first time, bright

and vivid as the sun, hot as pokers. I tipped off of Khenti and fell
against the floor, curled around the pain.

I watched through tear-stained eyes as Khenti made as though

to rise, his face alight with victory. Aten roared like a wild thing
and knocked him off his feet, sent him crashing to the floor.
Khenti’s head cracked against the tile. Aten planted one knee on
his chest, took Khenti’s face between his hands and gave it a quick
wrench to the side, breaking his neck with a sickening snap.

In an instant he was at my side, rolling me onto my back and

laying me out. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were
grave, as grave as I’d ever seen them.

“Oh, Seth.” He laid his fingers against my ribs, well away from

the wounds. “Why would you do such a thing?”

I tried to laugh, but it made a fresh wave of agony roll through

me, and I ended up only crying out instead. Aten’s mouth
tightened as he looked away. “It seemed a fine idea at the time.”

He took a sharp breath, held it for longer than should have been

possible. “You saved my life.” He looked as solid as stone, but his
words trembled.

“That seemed a fine idea at the time, too.”
Aten gripped my shoulder and shook me. I cried out at the

fresh, stabbing pain and glared at him. “Stop that! Have mercy, for
the love of the gods.”

“You cannot die, Seth.” He twisted his fingers in the hem of his

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110

kilt, clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. “You simply
cannot. I won’t hear of it.”

“Stop me,” I suggested wryly, shutting my eyes again as

weariness overtook me. “I should very much like to see you go
toe-to-toe with Anubis. It would be quite a sight, I’m sure. I almost
think you’re stubborn enough to win that match.”

He made a sharp, rising sound that had me opening my eyes

again, looking up to see what had caused it. He stared down at me,
his mouth flat, his expression hard, resolve settled over him like a
mantle. “I will,” he said, his voice strong and bold. “Let him try
and stop me.”

Before I could think too well on what he might mean by that,

he bent over me and drove his fangs deep and hard into my throat.

I wanted to fight, but I was too weak, too tired. Everything

seemed to be happening at a great distance, and none of it terribly
important. The pain spread, crawling up and burrowing deep inside
me, but numbness chased after it. My arms and legs were too
heavy to lift, my eyelids too heavy to keep up. I drifted while Aten
hunched over me and drank as though he hadn’t fed in months.

The encroaching darkness was nearly a comfort. Just before it

claimed me, Aten withdrew his fangs and raised up.

I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. I was going to die, but I

didn’t want to do it alone.

With a massive effort, I dragged my eyes open, and stared at

Aten through my swimming vision. I watched as he brought his
hand to his mouth and parted his lips against his wrist. I didn’t
understand until thick, crimson blood dripped down his arm and
spilled from around his mouth.

He grimaced and wiped his lips with the back of his wrist as

though it were distasteful to him. As the blood welled and dripped

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

111

down his arm, pattering on the tiles like rain, he pressed the wound
to my mouth.

The metallic taste of his blood coated my tongue. I choked and

sputtered on it, too weak to do anything more than lie there
coughing and trying to wrench my head away. It slid down my
throat, thick and hot, but he kept bleeding and it flooded my
mouth.

I swallowed it, tried to spit it out, anything to clear my tongue

of the taste, but Aten pressed his thumb to my lips and shook his
head. “No, Seth. Don’t do that. Drink it.” He pressed his wrist to
my mouth again.

I was dying either way, but I didn’t want to do it choking, or

drowning on his blood. When Aten felt my mouth moving on him,
he bent over me again, bit again, and drank as well.

The rhythmic suction of his mouth on my throat pulled at me,

buoying me up until I seemed to be floating, drifting. He drank,
kept drinking, longer and deeper than should have been possible,
until I thought surely I must have run dry. But still he drank, and
kept his wrist pressed firmly to my mouth, until at last he sat back
and spat out the last mouthful of blood.

“Aten—” The gentle waves had turned to a storm, dragging me

under. Sudden panic rose up in me and I fought against it,
thrashing.

“Shh. There’s no need for that.” Aten stroked my face, the

backs of his fingers brushing the corners of my eyes. He slid his
thumbs over them, drawing my eyelids down. “Sleep now, Seth.
Sleep. All will be well.”

“But… I want… ” I was dying, and there was something I had

to say to him, something important. I struggled to remember what
it was.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

112

“I know.” He bent over me, his breath a whisper against my

ear. “Sleep, and when you wake we shall show the gods
themselves they are no match for us.”

I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it any longer. I relaxed

beneath Aten and let it claim me.

* * *

I languished in a haze of agony, wondering if this were the

torment of the afterlife that I was destined to. Pain rolled through
me like venom, building to heights that convinced me I must be
dead, and damned, because surely no mortal body could withstand
such extremes.

And then, like a blessing—peace. Darkness. Relief. I drifted in

that, too, hardly conscious or even caring. It didn’t hurt; that was
enough.

“Seth.”
The distant call roused something in me, consciousness,

awareness. I struggled toward it, feeling as though I were
swimming through the Nile’s sticky mud. There was something
important there, but I couldn’t remember what.

I strained toward it, resolute. If this empty darkness was the

afterlife that awaited me, then I chose something else. Anything
else.

“Seth.” The voice called again, clearer, more insistent. Light

flooded over me, blinding. But how could it hurt eyes that I no
longer possessed?

I gradually became aware of more. Pressure on my face, the

rush of my breath like the crash of waves upon the shore. Sounds.
Smells. The odor of frankincense rising up to fill my lungs.

Aten.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

113

He had sworn to defeat Anubis himself to save me. Had he

managed it? It must be so, because the pressure I felt was his hand
upon my cheek, and the voice calling me back was his, and neither
of those things should have been possible.

I pried my eyes open, grimacing at the grit that seemed

determined to seal them together.

I saw only brightness, and blurry shapes and shadows. Slowly,

my vision focused, and the blurred shape overhead resolved itself
into Aten’s features, looking down on me with grave worry.

“You saved me.”
His lids swept quickly down over his eyes, hiding whatever

reaction I might have seen there. When he looked up again, he
showed only wry, warm humor. “You doubted me? I am crushed.”

I pushed myself upright. I was in Aten’s chambers, in his bed. I

brought my hands to my stomach instinctively, but my skin was as
smooth and unblemished as it had ever been.

“How do you feel?” His gaze darkened with worry as he

watched me.

“Fine,” I said wonderingly. I sat up and swung my legs off the

bed. “Incredible.”

He gave a single, sharp nod. “Good.”
I watched as he crossed the room. With his back to me, I saw

the way tension rippled across his shoulders.

I looked down at my torso, where Khenti’s wounds seemed to

have been erased, and then at my hands. There was a fleck of dark
blood still caught beneath one of my nails. I picked at it, then
flicked it away. When I looked up, Aten still had his back to me.

“You turned me?”
“I had to.” His voice cracked, but didn’t quite break.
I rose and crossed to him, turned him to face me. “Thank you,”

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

114

I said, and watched relief spread across his face before I dragged
him into an embrace. “I can’t imagine what you’re so worried
about,” I murmured against his ear. “You saved me.”

He drew back and smiled down at me. “You did it first.”
“I had to,” I echoed quietly.
“Yes. Well.” He set me back from him, his tone suddenly brisk.

“If you ever do such a thing again, I shall wring your neck, see if I
don’t. I can’t imagine what you were thinking.”

“That you were going to die. That there was no one but me to

stop it.”

He sighed. “What a silly thing to lose your life over.”
“Do you think so?” I demanded, my brows lowering. I was

ecstatic, jubilant, as lucky as any man in the Two Kingdoms, but
he was acting as strange as I’d ever seen him. “Should I have let
you die?”

He returned to me and sat on the bed beside me. He kissed my

brow, and kept his lips pressed there for a moment. “You shouldn’t
have died.”

“I’m not dead.”
He released me and adjusted his seat upon the bed as though

fidgeting, but when he settled down there was no longer any part
of us that touched. I stared at him as he fussed with the pleats of
his kilt.

“That’s it?” I demanded, appalled. “That’s what you’re upset

about? That you turned me?”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide and startled. “I am not

upset.”

“That’s a lie.”
He let his breath out on a rush. “I’m not upset I turned you,

Seth, and that’s the truth. It’s only that I have never done this

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

115

before. I am finding it… somewhat unsettling.”

“Never?” My brows climbed high with surprise. “In all this

time, you’ve never before faced the death of someone you cared
about, and wanted to prevent it?”

He came back to my side, his expression pensive. He sat on the

bed’s edge with a long sigh that made me want to press in against
him and ease all the tension away. “No,” he said quietly. “Never.”

I tried to speak, but found I couldn’t. He glanced up at me and I

expected a wry smile or a joke, but he just looked bleak. “There
hasn’t been another of my kind in over a hundred years, Seth.
There used to be many of us, but… ”

He trailed off, and I waited for him to continue, but a moment

passed and he still didn’t speak. “What happened to them?”

“I killed them.”
I rocked back, my mouth falling open in surprise. He smiled at

me, but there was no humor or warmth in the expression at all,
only dark rue. “When we are in our full strength, there’s no man
who can harm us. You learned that well enough for yourself. But
we can hurt and kill our own kind as easily as men do one another.
It was a very long time ago, and I was young and prideful and
power-hungry. I wanted to rule.” He tipped his head back, looking
up at the ornate ceiling of his chambers. “So I killed everyone who
was a threat, before they could kill me. I am not proud of it.”

“Everyone? Gods.” A thought worked its way slowly to my

consciousness. “Weren’t you lonely?”

“Yes.” He glanced sidelong at me. The corner of his mouth

turned up in a wry smile. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

I grimaced, chagrined. I had, or should have. It seemed much

clearer in retrospect. “Why would you do that?” I looked down at
my hands. “You went to so much trouble to protect yourself, and

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

116

now… ” I spread my hands open wide, palms-up, then clenched
them into fists. “I could kill you.”

“You could,” he agreed. “Though it seems to me it would

rather defeat the purpose of getting yourself gutted in the first
place.”

“But why?” I stared, imploring him to make some sense of this

for me. “You trust me that much?”

“Trust?” Aten gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “It’s

nothing to do with that, though I do.” He took my face in his
hands, met my gaze with his. The intensity that I saw there rocked
me. “Ask me if I love you that much.”

I stared at him, hardly able to breathe, as everything in me grew

still and tense. “Do you?”

“More,” he answered, and pulled my mouth to his.
My breath stuttered against his kiss. I wrapped my arms about

his neck and hurled myself at him, sending us both tumbling back
onto the bed. He rolled me over beneath him and rose up over me,
holding me down when I tried to kiss him again.

“I love you,” I said, and there they were—the words I had

struggled for and been unable to find as I lay bleeding in the
atrium. They rose up in me now, so clear and vital that it seemed a
wonder I had ever wrestled with them at all. They rose up like
water, like the Nile flooding its banks, washing over me. I said
them again and again, until Aten’s face broke into a wide grin and
he kissed me silent.

“Until death?” he teased, his lips curving against mine.
I flipped him over beneath me and laughed at his surprise, that

our strength was now equally matched and he was caught. “Oh,
longer than that, I should think.” He pulled me down on top of
him. “Much longer than that.”

ISLINN

ERRY

Aislinn Kerry wrote her first romance on a whim and hasn’t been
able to stop since. She has always been fascinated with the misfits,
the misunderstood, and the things that go bump in the night. She
blames it on an unnatural obsession with Beauty and the Beast at
an impressionable age.

To learn more about Aislinn and her writing, please visit her
website:

http://www.aislinnkerry.com

* * *

Don’t miss Smoke

by Aislinn Kerry,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Loving another man is a sin… but loving a vampire is worse…

In deeply religious 19th-century Italy, Valentino knows that
admitting his attraction to men, even to himself, could put him in
grave danger. The church prefers to burn vampires to keep their
congregation living in fear and paying their tithes, but a sinner like
Val would also do in a pinch.

Val suppresses his sexual desires and joins the clergy, hoping to
live a life of piety and devotion, until the day Dante, one of the
devil’s own vampires, comes to him begging to confess his sins.
Val can’t help his attraction to the vampire, and refuses to
succumb to it, even as Dante tries to seduce him. But Val soon
realizes he can no longer deny the truth of who he is, or what he
wants.

In desperation, and putting his life on the line to save the soul of
the vampire he loves, Val searches for proof that a man can be a
vampire without being damned. But his questions soon attract the
church’s attention, and they arrest him, and also plan to make an
example of him for the congregation to see.

Will Val face a horrific execution, or will Dante somehow be able
to rescue him in time?

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

OLD

TANDARD IN

UBLISHING

UALITY

OOKS

OTH

RINT AND

LECTRONIC

ORMATS

CTION

DVENTURE

USPENSE

HRILLER

CIENCE

ICTION

ARK

ANTASY

AINSTREAM

OMANCE

ORROR

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ANTASY

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ARANORMAL

ISTORICAL

IRECT

AVE

www.AmberQuill.com

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