“We have done nothing all day but sip wine and talk about completely inconsequential things,” she explained. “It has done me good.”
“I have enjoyed it also,” Tbubui put in. “I have no female company and I do not talk to my servants.” She glanced at Nubnofret as though something else was expected, and Nubnofret grunted.
“Tbubui has kindly invited you to stay at her home for a while “ she said. “I think that the change might be good for you, Sheritra, if you want to go. What do you think?”
Sheritra studied her mother’s face and analyzed her tone. Sometimes a similar question held the expected answer within it and the girl knew that she was not really being given a choice. But this time she could hear no unstated coercion, nor could her over-sensitivity detect an eagerness to have her out of the way. Nubnofret was smiling at her with kohl-smudged eyes slitted against the sun. Time with Harmin, Sheritra thought. Hour after hour in his company, talking, drinking him in with my eyes, perhaps kissing him, perhaps … But it was not entirely proper, not quite the accepted thing. She pondered, frowning unconsciously, and her mother added, “Of course Bakmut would go with you, and a scribe and your body servant. Your father would provide suitable guards.” And someone to report to him on my every move, Sheritra added ruefully. But that is how it should be. “What does Father say?” she asked.
“I have not spoken to him about it,” Nubnofret confessed. “I decided to see how you felt first. Well?”
“Do come, Princess!” Tbubui urged. “I would be so honoured by your company and would have someone to talk to. Harmin will also be overjoyed, I’m sure.” She cast a sidelong glance at Nubnofret that plainly said “Have I gone too far?” But Nubnofret was working lotus oil into her fingers and merely nodded.
“I daresay he would,” she responded drily. “But I do not object to that, providing he is never alone with my daughter.” She looked up suddenly. “You do not have to go, Sheritra.”
But you want me to, Sheritra thought angrily. I can see that you do. If I decided to spite you I would simply decline the invitation, but you know, don’t you Mother, that I cannot pass up this chance to be with Harmin. “On the contrary,” she said. “I would love to go. Thank you, Tbubui.”
The woman smiled warmly. “Good! I shall have a room prepared for you, in fact I shall give you my bedchamber as it is the largest in the house. We have several empty rooms.” Sheritra did not protest. As a princess it was her right to occupy the best accommodation. “When would you like to come?” Tbubui pressed.
Sheritra regarded her mother levelly. “Tomorrow,” she said.
Tbubui sat up. “Good!” she repeated.
At that moment Khaemwaset and Hori stepped out of the terrace’s shade and came towards them, Hori limping awkwardly. Tbubui rose and reverenced them with a grace that sent a pang of envy through Sheritra. A month ago I would not have cared, she told herself, or even if I did it would not have been such a violent caring. I would have sneered at her, but now I want that unselfconscious assurance for Harmin’s sake. She herself scrambled up for her father’s kiss. Hori gave her a twisted grin and sank into one of the chairs the servants were rushing to provide.
“So,” Khaemwaset began, his eyes on Tbubui after a cursory but warm greeting to his wife, “we males come to interrupt an obvious idyll. You all look satisfied with yourselves. Have you settled the affairs of Egypt between you?”
It is not like Father to be condescending, Sheritra thought. He seems very uneasy. And why is Hori staring so sourly at the ground? Well, I will not let either of them spoil my day. Her mother was talking of Tbubui’s invitation and Sheritra listened as she and Khaemwaset tossed her decision about between them. Her father was not exactly objecting. It seemed to the girl that under the prescribed, formal objections was an eagerness to see her go that was equal to her mother’s. Puzzled and a little hurt, she tried to catch his eye, seeking reassurance, but could not. Tbubui was watching, her gaze, also narrowed against the sun, moving slowly from one to the other. She made no move to interrupt and Sheritra thought that her stillness had a smug quality about it. Finally her father turned to her.
“I shall miss you, Little Sun,” he said merrily. “But of course your mother and I will visit you often until you are ready to come home again.”
Mother will not, Sheritra thought mutinously, and you, dear Father … All at once an idea flashed into her mind and she exhaled quietly. Could it be? Khaemwaset was now jovial, animated. Sheritra turned her attention unobtrusively back to Tbubui. She was smiling to herself and fanning a hand across the blades of grass, to and fro. Sheritra again inspected her father’s sparkling eyes and wide gestures, her heart sinking. So that was it. If I am actually in Tbubui’s house I give Father an excuse to visit there whenever he wishes. And I am suddenly convinced that he will wish to visit a very great deal.