“I have no beauty,” Nezem-mut said sadly — all those long years of being under the shadow of her beautiful sister were behind those words. Nefertiti! The very name means: “The Beautiful One Comes.”
“Of course you have beauty!” Ankhesenamun cried.
“Nefertiti ...”
“Forget my mother. She was beautiful, yes. But so are you in a different way. I have seen Horemheb look at you! I am sure all that makes him hesitate is that he does not want to presume to ask a royal lady for her hand.” Ankhesenamun hated lying to her aunt — particularly since, for the first time, she realised what a burden of frustration Nezem-mut had been carrying as the sister of Nefertiti. But she needed victory in this matter. “You do not need Heh,” she insisted. “Horemheb is yours already. We just have to encourage him a
