Her movements had stirred the air and her perfume was suddenly in his nostrils, the myrrh of sex and worship and that other fragrance, elusive and tantalizing. She was stroking the earring with the fingers of one elegant hennaed hand. “You have told me of your escapade yesterday and of Khaemwaset’s response,” she went on. “But Highness, you have not yet spoken of any conclusions to be drawn from the new discovery. Does the small chamber shed any light on the rest of the tomb or its inhabitants?”
“Not really,” Hori admitted. “Having seen the tomb, Tbubui, you and your brother know as much about it as we do. A shameful admission! Father and I are supposed to be the historians.”
“But so is Sisenet,” Tbubui added. “He and I have often discussed the nature of the water, the baboons, the lids, to no avail. Tell me,” she went on, her fingers still absently fondling the earring. “What happened to the scroll Khaemwaset cut from the dead hand? You do not mention it at all.”
“Father still has it in safekeeping,” Hori answered. “He does not look at it anymore. He tried to decipher it, you know, and was defeated. Strange that you should mention it, Tbubui, for it came into my mind quite forcibly today that it may well hold the key to all the irritating mysteries of the place. I intend to ask Father if I may inspect it.” She cast him a smile of indulgent sweetness as if to say, If the greatest historian in Egypt cannot decipher it, how can you? and Hori was mortified. “Of course such an inspection on my part will be all but futile,” he hastened to say, “but who knows? I may thus prompt him to attempt another translation. My workmen are even now re-sealing the second burial chamber and soon the whole tomb will be closed. Time is short.”
Her hand left her ear and drifted down to rest on her thigh. Hori’s gaze went with it. “I would very much like to see it also,” she said with a charming diffidence, all superiority gone. “But my interest would seem entirely frivolous to your august father. However, my brother has some skills in the matter of the translation of ancient scripts. He might possibly be able to help.”
Now it was Hori’s turn to feel a secret scorn. “Your pardon, Tbubui, but your brother is surely no more than a clever amateur,” he replied loftily. “The scroll is fragile and irreplaceable and unskilled hands might damage it.”
“Oh, I think there is no fear of that,” she countered softly, her eyes huge in the dim light of the chamber. “Sisenet is used to handling valuable scrolls. He has deciphered all the records left by Osiris Hatshepsut’s caravan overseers who were, as you may remember, our ancestors.”
“No, I did not know that,” Hori answered. “Then if you like I will ask my father’s permission on your brother’s behalf, to try to read the scroll. Will he be interested in it?”
“Oh yes,” Tbubui said slowly, emphatically. “He will be very interested indeed. More wine, Prince?”
When he nodded, she rose from the couch in one fluid movement, took up the jar and bent to pour for him. It seemed to Hori that she came closer than was entirely necessary. He inhaled the gush of perfume and warmth rising from her cleavage, and seeing her braids fall forward he gently pushed them back. Her shoulder was inches from his mouth, satin smooth and gleaming. Unable to resist any longer, he learned forward, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her flesh. It was cool and tasted of lotus water. Still with eyes tightly shut he moved his tongue towards her neck and down, seeking the delicious hollow of her collarbone, then up, up and over her chin. At last her mouth was there, slightly parted, her lips soft and yielding. She had not stirred. Thrusting his tongue between them he kissed her ardently, trying to salve the wound of lust, his hands going blindly to cup her breasts that were fuller, heavier than he had first supposed. But when he broke away, dazed and breathing hard, he found the wound throbbing more fiercely than before.
“Well, young Prince,” she murmured. “That was flattering.”
“Flattering?” he burst out. “I am besotted with you, Tbubui! I cannot eat or sleep for desiring you. Now I know why the gorgeous little girls of my grandfather’s court left me lonely and wanting something I did not recognize until now. I was aloof, self-sufficient. I was asleep!” His voice was coarse and ragged, his expression strained. “Let me woo you, persuade you that I am more than a youth. You could do worse than be betrothed into the most powerful family in Egypt!”
Her eyebrows rose. “But my dear Hori, you do not really know me at all. How can I be anything but a body blending with a fantasy to you? Explore my character and you may find yourself disappointed.” She stroked his hair with a gentle maternal touch. “This is infatuation. Nothing more.”