“A co-regency?”
“Yes.”
I pace beside him in silence. I know he is not ready to be king. But regent? How would this affect the task Khurahtaten had set us both, the task of opening the mouth of dead ritual, that the living truth might be heard again in our land?
We hear a call and turn at the lake edge, both finding it difficult to leave our thoughts. From the flowering terraces in front of the palace we see the figure of a young girl running towards us, fine pleated muslin billowing out like a sail behind her, the curves of her figure as beautiful as Hathor’s, the lady of the southern sycamores.
My pulse quickens. Nefertiti, whose name means “the beautiful one comes”. Nefertiti, beloved of Prince Amenhotep, daughter of his uncle Ay.
We begin to walk to meet her. Her cheeks are flushed
