Sands In The Darkest Night

Enigma

~Seek to do your duties to your highest abilities, this way your actions will be blameless.~ Egyptian quote

Aria laid on her bed and thought over what Pharaoh had said.

'Help Akhenaten.'

She heard his voice say.

It was pleading.

She shook her head and sat up.

Aria was afraid of the Crown Prince-of what he was capable of.

But she had seen his eyes, those same amber eyes-the same eyes she'd seen in a vision by the River Nile back home by her secret place.

Aria felt a pang in her heart as she thought of home.

She worried about her father, her mother and Eros, her younger brother.

Without warning, tears fell down her cheeks.

She let out a breath and sobbed quietly into her hands.

She missed them terribly.

She hadn't seen her family in over two years and had also been a servant that equal amount.

'Why did they have to come to there-to Egypt?'

'Why had they chosen to flee to this God-forsaken place?'

They'd known nothing but suffering and pain.

A part of her loathe them-the Egyptians-for what they'd done to her people, but a larger part of her reasoned that they couldn't all be bad.

Her heart tugged within her when she thought of the Crown Prince.

'What category was he?'

'Bad, not bad...or the worst?'

•••

Akhenaten was outside in the sparring court honing his swordsmanship.

He was unbelievably fast and agile. They sparred with swords forged by the finest swordsmith in the whole of Egypt.

He'd succeeded in landing several non-lethal cuts on his equally skilled opponent.

Akhenaten noticed a presence besides the two of them.

He stopped abruptly as he was about landing a strike on his opponent's jugular.

He withdrew his sword and straightened.

He looked up at the gallery and saw Ahmes staring at him-she was wearing a gown draped with a matching headscarf.

He could see the sadness in her eyes even from where he stood.

He remembered what he'd done to her, the last time they had spoken.

He looked away and they began their sparring match again.

This time, his strikes were more concentrated, his cuts more lethal.

Akhenaten was about making the final blow-a clean slitting of the throat-when Ahmes stood between them.

Akhenaten barely stopped the blade in time. His eyes widened.