Another tense silence.
She looked at each of them in turn.
Was she giving them the opportunity to challenge her?
They did not take it.
Instead, Enamon looked to the floor at his feet, a subtle gesture of surrender if Ramses had ever seen one, and Julie picked up one of the daggers by its handle once again.
"Do you agree to these conditions?" Bektaten finally asked.
Ramses was prepared to nod, when Julie broke the silence. "I must ask something first."
"Speak."
"Why have you not poisoned Saqnos before now?" she asked.
It was the first time Ramses had seen the queen flinch, as if Julie's words had literally struck her. She turned from the table and then to her mahogany cabinet, and for a moment, he thought she might remove a secret scroll or tablet which might somehow answer Julie's question with an ancient tale. But she did nothing of the kind. Rather, it was as if she could only collect herself by turning away from the expectant look in their eyes.
"He is all that connects me to my past," she answered. "He is all that connects me to what I was. If I am to destroy him for all time, the reason for doing so must confront me in the flesh once more."
"I connect you to what you were," Enamon said. "Aktamu connects you to what you were. We freed you so you could become what you are."
"Yes, I know this, and I'm eternally grateful for it," Bektaten said. "But Saqnos held the other half of my kingdom in his hands. If he is gone forever, so goes Shaktanu."
Ramses said nothing. It was not his place to say anything. But he felt she was blinded by love, not for a man as much as a lost kingdom. Or perhaps it was both, and she was unwilling to admit it. But to point these things out to her would be to risk their new and fragile alliance, Ramses was sure.
"There is a final chance," Bektaten said. "Bring him here so that he may have it."
"A final chance?" Ramses asked. "For Saqnos?"
"Yes, for him," Bektaten said quietly.
"You believe he can redeem himself?" Julie asked her.
"I believe I will give him a choice." She turned to face them again, enunciating each one of these words with a quiet emphasis that had the threat of anger at its edges. "There are many secrets in my garden. Far more than have been displayed for you on this table. This exchange...I am done with it. Do you agree to my terms? May we begin?"
Ramses answered by reaching out and taking one of the daggers in hand, just as Julie had moments before.
"Yes," he said. "Let us begin."
35
Havilland Park
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. She felt as if they'd left her in this cell for hours.
Were they preparing the food? Or was this isolation another form of bloodless torture?
And how to explain this sudden calm that seemed to move through her? Was it resignation, surrender?
The door to her cell swung open.
The immortals who had placed her in chains earlier now brought her a dress, a porcelain basin full of warm water, and a cloth with which to wash herself. They presented these items to her as if they were royal tributes. It took all her effort not to sneer at the absurdity of this. Royal tributes in this dark cell that smelled of earth and rotting leaves? Who were these wretched people?
But there had been a shift in their manner. She was their prisoner still, but they now believed her to be a queen.
The dress was a thin and insubstantial thing, studded with pearls and glittering stones, that reminded her of froth on the Nile. Less of a garment than a silly form of adornment. Jewels in clothing form. It would diminish her to wear it, but not as much as it would to remain in this wretched little cell.