THE EYES GAVE THEM AWAY—always.
So eyes were what Ankhesenpaaten studied whenever a member of the royal court entered her presence during these dangerous times. As she stood alone in her study, the morning sun barely brightening the large stone room, she steeled herself for another day.
If their eyes were slightly downcast, they thought she had killed her husband. The same was true of those who fixed strained smiles on their faces while avoiding her gaze.
She could not quite describe the look of those who believed her. But there weren’t many in the palace who did. It seemed that she had already been tried and found guilty.
“You wanted to see me, Majesty?” said Yuye, her lady-in-waiting. The girl bowed as she entered the queen’s quarters, making it hard for Ankhesenpaaten to observe her.
Now that Tut was gone, the entire palace belonged to the queen, but she still kept to her rooms. It felt better that way. Safer. The only change she’d made to palace life was to banish Tut’s lover, sending her back to her parent’s home with an order never to return to the palace under any circumstances.
“Take a letter,” the queen told Yuye. She peered over the girl’s shoulder as she spoke, afraid of being overheard or caught at what some would call treason.