A Pharaoh and Her Beloved Queen - Chapter 7

“Edith is in Kadesh, is that certain?”

“Yes, Highness.”

The cool-toned morning light gilded her delicate skin with a lustrous, white-jade glow. Her fingers lightly clasped the rim of the cup as Manefertiti took a shallow sip of the wine, her entire figure surrounded by a soft, gentle radiance.

The female official, Naya, knelt respectfully to the side with her head bowed, not daring to make any other move. From her angle, she could only see her Highness’s straight, slender legs crossed together; the snow-white insteps of her feet were inadvertently heart-stirring…

Sacred and noble, as if even a single extra glance would be a profanation.

In the next moment, as if thinking of something, fine beads of cold sweat broke out on Naya’s forehead. Feeling chilled through her whole body, she lowered her eyes, not daring to look further, and waited quietly for her Highness’s inquiry.

“Is there news of Narmer yet?” Manefertiti asked softly with a faint smile, her voice casual and gentle.

“Reporting to Highness, General Casimo sent word that traces of the King were discovered in the city of Sais.”

A nonchalant, leisurely pace—”Oh, is that so?”—could not hide the gentleness of Manefertiti’s voice, which flowed like a slow spring.

“Yes, Highness,” Naya bowed her body even lower, submissive and humble.

“It seems my royal brother still hasn’t learned his lesson. He needs a change of priests to teach him.”

The world knew that the military empire of the Hittites was currently under the full control of Princess Manefertiti. The twelve-year-old Hittite King, Narmer, was nothing more than a puppet—a shield to allow Manefertiti to rule the Hittites legitimately.

Her consistently soft and supple tone made it impossible to detect any emotional fluctuation, like a gentle mountain breeze brushing past.

Naya believed that anyone who did not know her Highness would certainly be deceived by her mild and harmless appearance, scrambling and bowing in hopes of becoming a subject under her skirt.

But those who knew Princess Manefertiti were only awed by the ruthless decisiveness hidden beneath her mild exterior, bowing their heads from a distance to show submission.

Naya remembered clearly: Her Highness stood on the city wall with a faint smile on her lips, her gentle gaze watching the Hittite soldiers below as they conducted a bloody massacre of a resisting city-state. The stench of blood, the mangled limbs, the stark white bones, and the heads rolled on the ground with still-recognizable faces of terror…

Her Highness watched it all happen mildly until the end.

“Any city-state that surrenders without a fight shall be spared from looting and destruction; however, any act of resistance will invite the frantic venting of the Hittite army’s wrath.”

Those words, spoken softly by red lips, had since become a lingering nightmare for the nations surrounding the Hittites. In the darkest nights, fear would seep from the flesh into the marrow, quickly occupying the entire body and raising a layer of goosebumps; once awakened from a midnight nightmare, sleep would be impossible.

“You are dismissed. Have General Hurgu come see me.”

“Yes.”

Naya felt as if she had been granted a great amnesty and withdrew cautiously. As she pulled the doors shut, she caught a glimpse of her Highness leaning lazily against the bedside, her figure graceful. Her light brown eyes were quiet and deep, her lips slightly curved as if in a faint smile.

Naya could clearly sense that her Highness had been in a poor mood these past few days, yet it seemed her Highness always wore that faint smile, never easily revealing her emotions—except when that person was present…

Thinking of that person, Naya suddenly snapped back to her senses. The shadows of the branches outside the palace flickered, and clouds churned in the sky. Not daring to criticize, she ran all the way to summon General Hurgu, the commander who had guarded the border for many years.

Meanwhile, on the southern shore of the Mediterranean, facing the Hittites from afar, the wind had died down and the waves were still. No one could see the surging undercurrents and hidden murderous intent beneath the surface of the Mediterranean.

The clouds churned, bringing a heavy sense of oppression.

Edith stood expressionless on the city wall of Kadesh, her features cold and hard. She stared at the distant Mediterranean coast. The azure water washed away the dark red bloodstains, gently lapping against the shore; occasionally, the wreckage of a warship was swept up by the tide—a heavy silence.

Since Edith arrived in Kadesh, the Hittite offensive had changed once again, suddenly becoming “soft.”

It was as if gullies of varying depths were easily filled by the fine sand swept up by the sea, carrying a sense of hurriedly concealing everything.

“King, according to the news sent back by the ‘dead agents,’ a massive new shallow-layer iron mine was discovered at the foot of Mount Eshel in Nusya. Aside from that, there is nothing unusual.”

General Situ stood behind Edith, his facial muscles bulging slightly and his fists clenched. The frequent Hittite movements clearly made him somewhat anxious.

Her thick lashes flickered slightly. In the depths of Edith’s eyes was a deathly calm as she continued to stand in silence.

Wisps of cool wind clung to the coarse city walls, rubbing out a cryptic, piercing wail. Her smooth, straight black hair brushed against her ears, but after a moment, all returned to silence.

What exactly was the reason for the Hittites’ sudden increase in troops? Besides the iron mine in Nusya, what else was there?

A flash of bewilderment suddenly crossed her amber eyes, flickering in and out of the light, giving rise to a trace of uneasy doubt.

Edith crossed her hands, rubbing her palms with a tiny movement. The image of that calm and refined figure flashed through her mind—if she were facing this situation, what would she do?

The deep, boundless indifference in her eyes was unconsciously covered by a very, very thin layer of warmth.

She turned around, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly into her usual expression of calm detachment—steady and unpredictable.

Since Edith ascended the throne, Egypt had waged external wars for ten years. In these ten years, every campaign personally led by the Queen of Egypt had ended without defeat. For the Egyptian soldiers, being able to fight for Egypt and for their Queen was a supreme honor; after death, their names would be inscribed in their tombs.

Edith stood tall, composed and determined, radiating an absolute will to fight, wordlessly soothing the slightly anxious emotions of her generals.

“The army refitting in Tanis will arrive in Thebes in two days. At that time, you need only delay the Hittite army according to plan.”

“Yes.”

Edith waved her hand, and the crowd behind her receded like a tide. Ignoring the several gazes of ambiguous scrutiny behind her, she stood on the city wall like a statue, immovable.

She bore the rise and fall of Egypt on her shoulders. Everyone else could retreat, but she could not.

This time, she disdained—and was unwilling—to choose. Even if she had to bet her life, she would bet that she could have both the Mediterranean and the Sonjung.

A gentle but restlessly cool wind swept from Kadesh toward Tanis, disturbing the fearful Egyptian subjects at the border. In this battle, may the Sun God Amun protect Egypt once more, and protect Her Majesty Edith.

Inside the city of Tanis, the solemn and grave scene felt strangely familiar. Heshi slowed her pace; she had unexpectedly seen a cold majesty on the body of a fallen prisoner that was exactly the same as Her Majesty Edith’s.

Heshi knew that this concubine had originally been the Queen of Punt. To willingly endure such humiliation—from the monarch of a nation to a concubine with no dignity or status to speak of—was both astonishing and contemptible.

For the sake of this fallen Queen, Her Majesty Edith had specifically chosen not to stay in the palace, but rather chose such a small courtyard. Because of several unusual actions, everyone believed the Queen merely treated her as a rare toy; Heshi thought so as well.

Now it seemed she had been dull-witted. Even while imprisoned, the woman remained calm and serene, and the majesty of a King had not diminished despite her current circumstances.

Correcting her expression, a few traces of wariness quietly rose in Heshi’s heart as she stepped forward. “The soldiers reported that you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, General Heshi, I want to see you.” Ye Zhiqing’s black eyes stared at Heshi below the stone steps. Her red lips moved several times, but she made no sound.

Yet it successfully caused Heshi’s face to change. Wary alertness surfaced beneath her cracking mask of composure, and her right hand moved inconspicuously to the scimitar at her waist.

Seeing this, Ye Zhiqing gave a casual, faint smile. She turned her body and waved her hand slightly, signaling Heshi to come inside for a detailed talk.

Without waiting for Heshi’s response, Ye Zhiqing took the lead and walked inside, her footsteps steady. Her originally tense nerves slowly relaxed, and her mind became clearer. Ye Zhiqing knew that as long as she saw Heshi, she still had a chance.

This was not the dynasty recorded in the 21st-century Egyptian history books. No one, at least for now, could draw a conclusion regarding this battle and Edith’s ultimate fate.

“Everyone guard outside the door. No one is allowed in,” Heshi’s clear and efficient voice fell, and she strode into the room with a grave expression.

The wide robe looked somewhat empty on Ye Zhiqing. She stood in the center of the courtyard with her back to Heshi, her thin frame moving slightly upon hearing the footsteps.

“General Heshi, I can walk freely in this courtyard. I can dispose of the people and items in this courtyard at will—including the deployment maps and war reports left behind by Her Majesty Edith. That is how I know the plan between the Queen and you.”

Her eyes could not hide her surprise; Heshi never would have expected that Her Majesty Edith would tacitly allow Ye Zhiqing to peer into their plans.

Ye Zhiqing turned around slowly. The sharpness in her eyes was no longer restrained; her gaze, usually calm as water, turned into ten thousand sharp swords, clashing with the air and creating a piercing hum.

Her pupils dilated, and Heshi’s breath caught abruptly; her body felt weak for several moments.

She looked up at Ye Zhiqing with undisguised shock. The surging momentum that had just crushed her seemed like a hallucination; looking again now, it was as if mist had dissipated into nothingness in the air, leaving not a single trace.

Heshi froze in place, her lips parted slightly, but she could not utter a sound.

With a calm face and an almost indifferent statement, Ye Zhiqing easily set off a massive wave in Heshi’s heart.

“General Heshi, I suspect you do not know what the greatest bargaining chip in the King’s plan is?”

“To make the Hittite army abandon their landing on the coast of Kadesh and instead rush toward that distant coast where you have set an ambush… General Heshi, what kind of chip do you think would be enough to complete the King’s plan?”

Her tone lifted at the end, her gaze steady and firm as it fell upon Heshi—seeming like an inquiry, but even more like an interrogation.

“What is it?” Heshi’s question was pale and weak. She found that in front of this woman, besides standing there dazed, she could do nothing; it was a profound sense of dejected helplessness she hadn’t felt in years.

Calming her agitated emotions, Heshi asked again, “What is the chip?” Her voice was forceful, yet it could not hide the streaks of hysterical unease and alarm within.

“Her Majesty Edith,” Ye Zhiqing’s deep black eyes stared calmly into Heshi’s.

Silence spread without a sound…

It took a long while for the buzzing in her head to stop. Heshi recovered her senses and put away her shocked expression, replaced by an even deeper wariness toward Ye Zhiqing. Her gaze was sharp. “So, you are telling me all this now. What is your purpose?”

“I want to go to that coast with you.”