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Lost in Beauty

By Gloria Clover

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Chapter One
"Pharaoh!"
The call scuttled across the mammoth rocks of the empty temple. Hawk bowed his head. Maybe the priest would leave him to his responsibilities.
"Your majesty!" Baruti's fingers curled into Hawk's shoulder. "She comes."
Hawk kept his voice low and reverent. "Can you not see I'm at prayer?"
The priest's fingers loosened. "Yes, of course, your majesty." He dropped to his knees on the warm stone, close enough that the sleeves of his kalasaris flapped against Hawk's arm. "But she comes. May even be here. No later than tonight for certain."
For certain Baruti had been predicting the arrival of a foreign princess for more than ten years. Hawk didn't mind the prophecy. In truth, it kept the other potential brides somewhat at bay. The problem was the uproar Baruti put the island in every time the prophecy remained unfulfilled.
"Did you hear me?" Baruti demanded.
"Am I deaf or divine?" Hawk spoke the only reminder guaranteed to work on Aten's priest.

"Of course, Pharaoh." Baruti drooped lower, but Hawk had hoped for an act of submission that would leave him in peace. "You are the son of Aten."
"Then I am sure someone will direct this princess to me as soon as she arrives." Hawk finally looked over at his high priest, half in shadow from the twelve cubit column to his left. "I shall not have to scour the island for her."
"Of course not, your majesty." Baruti peeked over at Hawk, then dropped his gaze immediately.
Hawk restrained an inappropriate grin. "Then I shall return to my prayers." Without further interruption, he should have them finished before the rays of Aten burned a hole in the back of his skull. What had his ancestors been thinking to put the altar near the east side of the open, sixteen column temple?
"Of course, your majesty." Baruti pushed to his feet and hustled toward the outer pillars.
Hawk bowed his head. The sooner he finished his duty to Aten, the sooner he could take that swim he'd been promising himself all morning.
Aten, if you hear me, if I am your son—this type of prayer could never be formed aloud— please, don't let my sisters hear of this prophecy.
***
Mina Everheart paused at the summit and looked down the stone "steps" she had just climbed. Steps cut out of rock. Steps each three-quarters of a meter high. A dangerous journey of close to seventy-five meters from the ocean's edge.
The captain had chosen well when he'd put her ashore below because the blip on his screen of an approaching vessel had made him reluctant to search for a better dock. Osaze Island had them, of course. If not the longest inhabited island of the Archipelago of Solumnus, Osaze was one of the longest, but still not backward. Unchanging, perhaps. Untaught, certainly. But it had a town and fishing harbors.
Mina wiped her forehead with her white shirt sleeve and hefted her pack. Though she didn't mind the exercise, going down the mountain should be easier than climbing the cliff.
"King, thanks for the safe climb," she called out. "Thanks for the mission," she added more softly. She was actually here. Osaze Island. Home of the descendants of the Egyptian heretic Pharaoh Akhenaten. If only her parents were still alive, they'd be dancing with joy. Mina giggled. She was not only going to meet the gazillionth grandson of Akhenaten, she was going to marry him.
She twirled, nearly tripped on a fallen branch, and decided she'd better behave. She'd turned twenty a few days earlier, becoming a full-fledged adult. The King was counting on her.
Swallowing her excitement, Mina trotted down the goat path in front of her. The mountain wasn't tall or steep, of course. In world standards it would be categorized as a hill. If she remembered her geography class correctly, this mountain housed the source of Osaze's equivalent to the Nile River. For eight months of the year it flowed as an effective and benevolent source of water for all the inhabitants of Osaze. During the four months of rainy season, it raged and flooded and re-fortified the delta land, making Osaze the most fertile and agriculturally productive island in the archipelago.
Seven meters down the goat path, Mina's keen ear picked up the rush of water. Instead of striking out across the dense forest and making a direct line for the river, she stuck to the path and received her reward. The scene before her centered on a placid lake.
"Oh, King," she breathed in wonder. The river cut through a beautiful stone arch before emptying into the glistening pool. Draping greenery. Sunlight sparkling on the water. Peace and perfection. "How majestic is your name."
Her new home was gorgeous.
A splash drew her gaze to the far end of the pool. A man sluiced through the water. Arms extending, legs kicking without the slightest break in the surface, he lapped the area twice before Mina's vibrating senses permitted room in her brain. How rude to stare, to intrude when he obviously thought himself alone. Still, her eager gaze remained riveted.
What an idyllic spot to meet her prince. The King blessed her beyond expectations. Time alone without the pomp of court and the pressure of performing would give them an opportunity to be genuine with each other.
The man braced his arms on the stone ledge and hoisted himself out of the lake. Water streamed from his shoulders, down the muscled, rippling flesh of his back, into the indent of his lower back, and around the smooth, firm curves of his buttocks. Sparkling under the sun's rays in perfection, the man's completely unclothed body now stood in front of her.
Then, he turned.
Gasping, Mina twirled on the goat path and pressed clammy hands to her fiery cheeks. Good night! What had she done? Nothing. Her assurance fell flat. Nothing! She'd seen only the outline of golden flesh, not even his features, let alone anything more intimate. But she'd known it was rude to stare, to intrude.
She stumbled down the path. I'm sorry, King. I felt your prompt and went on with my own fantasy. Please, don't let him have seen me. Please, don't let this ruin my welcome or authenticity. Please, don't—
"Hey!" The man's call reached her ear a moment before his large, warm hand wrapped around her left biceps, knocking her pack from her shoulder to his wrist. "What's the meaning of spying—" He cut himself off.
Mina stared at the tuck of a linen shendyt around his waist. "I'm sorry. I should have turned away as soon as I realized you were unclothed." Her voice grew softer with each word. "The perfection of the scene enthralled me, but that's no excuse."
"Aten's toes." The curse spoken in such low surprise almost soothed her. He didn't sound angry. "Is it possible?"
Mina peeked upward. The man released her arm and caught her pack before it hit the ground. He stepped back. She straightened, still nearly a third of a meter shorter than he was.
"I am sorry." She held out her hand and refused to allow her gaze to stray beyond the sharp angles of his beautifully stark face. "I'm Mina Everheart, servant of the Most High King."
He either didn't notice or ignored her outstretched hand. "Then you are not the prophesied princess?"
They expected her? Mina's arm dropped back to her side. What an added benefit. His firm lips molded into a scowl. Or maybe not, since she'd now been caught in an action unbecoming a daughter of the King. With one rueful shrug, she raised her chin higher. "Sorry, that's me. Princess Mina. Known for enjoying every opportunity laid before her. I'm sorry this one was at your expense."
His frown deepened, then a ruddy splash appeared in his high cheek bones.

He was cute. No, of course not cute. He possessed too many hard, sharp angles and chiseled planes. His nose, too long and hooked, refused his face the description of handsome. His short, dark hair, still damp from his swim, lay plastered to his skull. But his skin was tanned, firm, and completely hairless, like a bronze or marble statue of a Greek—not an Egyptian—god. Her gaze followed her curiosity downward and stopped again the waist of his linen shendyt.
He cleared his throat, and Mina's gaze jerked back to his. Narrowed eyes met her sheepish ones. His lips compressed. Without a word from him, Mina felt five years old once again.
***
Hawk stared at the unexpected creature. It was a woman, wasn't it? The strange clothing covering so much of her body made it difficult to judge. She didn't have the appropriate curves. Both her hair and skin blanched so pale he might have thought her a phantom save for the vibrant sparkle in her green eyes.
Had Baruti predicted the arrival of a foreign princess who had actually arrived?
"I didn't mean to stare," she whispered to the ground.
He did. Slowly, he reached out and ran the threads of her yellow-white hair between two fingers. Her body quivered, and her head jerked up, but he stayed focused, tracing the long tresses until they fell once again across her shoulder and torso. He'd never touched anything in his life so soft as her hair.
Her eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut.
"Where did you come from?" Was she fulfilling Baruti's prophecy? "Why are you here?" He used his soft, you-don't-need-to-fear-me-because-I'm-pharaoh tone, but his narrowed gaze continued to hunt for her secrets. "How did you get to the pool?"
She swallowed and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I wasn't spying." She sounded like a toddler unfairly reprimanded. "I climbed the cliff steps from the beach and started down the path." She motioned to where they both now stood.
He raised a mental eyebrow, but deepened his scowl. How could she have climbed with legs barely longer than height of each step?
"I wasn't spying," she insisted. "The beautiful scene caught me. I didn't even know you were in the pool at first, and I certainly didn't know you were undressed." A defiance entered her strengthening tone. "I stopped to thank the King for the beauty of Osaze Island, not be a Peeping Tom on your private swim." The defiance left her eyes and the rueful grin returned to her lips. "Though I confess I thought it a romantic place to first meet you."
"Me?" He drew out the word as he tried to piece together her fragmented explanation. She spoke Osaze well, but foreign phrases mixed with the words he recognized.
"Oh. Uh." For the first time she looked startled. "I just assumed..."
That he was the pharaoh? That he was the man the prophecy said she would marry? Had she heard the prophecy? Had she begun the prophecy?
Hawk compressed his lips even tighter.
"I'm sorry."
She'd mastered the use of apology. Unbecoming in royalty. In a split second, he decided to withhold his title. "I'm Hawk."
Her hand shot out toward him as it had done when she'd told him her name. "I'm pleased to meet you."
He handed her the satchel he somehow had taken from her.
She accepted it and swung it onto her shoulder. "I should let you return to your swim."
But should he let her loose on Osaze without an appropriate chaperone? "Do you know where you are going?"
She shrugged. "To the end of the goat path?"
"Let me gather my belongings."
Instead of waiting for him as he'd expected, she followed him back to the alcove that housed the pool. As he shoved his feet into his leather sandals, she gushed more than the water around them.
"I knew it would be more beautiful down here than from above. What a perfect place to relax. Do you come here often, Hawk?"
"As often as I can." He picked up his bag of bathing supplies and the towel he'd not used in his rush to catch the person who had been spying on him.
"Is there a better place on Osaze?"
This time she directed her question to the sky. Did she address Aten? Hawk answered anyway. "Not for bathing in privacy. Usually." He couldn't resist the poke.
"I really am sorry!"
Then he couldn't resist a tiny grin.
"Oh, you!" Her pale hand slapped against his arm just above his elbow. "Let's pretend it never happened."
"How would we do that?"
"We'll start again." Once more her hand shot out toward him and stopped mid-air.
He stepped back.
"No, take my hand. We'll shake in greeting."
Shake?
Nonetheless, he gently enclosed her tiny, pale hand between both of his.
"One, silly." Her fingers clasped his hand, palm to palm, and she tugged his arm up and down. "That's a handshake. An acceptable greeting in much of the world."
Too intimate, touching skin against skin, for a greeting. He frowned. Had she just called the son of Aten silly?
She released his hand and announced, as though he lacked memory, "I'm Mina Everheart. I stepped off the King's ship this morning. I've come to Osaze Island to share the King's love with all the citizens and to marry Haru Zuberiaten, the 436th pharaoh of Osaze. I'm so pleased to meet you, Hawk."
Surprisingly she hadn't mangled the pronunciation of his given name. Who was this tiny, white ball of energy who almost resembled a woman and sounded like his vizier? How under Aten's wisdom could he be expected to marry such a creature?
Hawk motioned toward the path for her to precede him. He would walk with her and listen to her and consider when he would admit to being the pharaoh she sought. But for now he refused to deal with her wide-eyed expectations.

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