Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 01

Perhaps it was for the best that she was in Egypt where they could not see her. She hoped that Mr Banks had little experience around pregnant women.

And yet, despite these fears, Anabeth felt some strange euphoria climb inside her. It was as though the closer they crept towards her lodgings, the better Anabeth felt. It was the heat, she decided, this return to a historic country when she had spent most of the past three weeks in a bed, surrounded by the cold and drab. The golden sands sung to her, the perfectly blue sky calming her. She wondered how she'd ever be able to return to England again.

Peter had not been wrong about their lodgings - it was almost a palace, done in the Eastern style, with open arches for doors and no glass on the windows, only shutters. There was a patch of luxurious grass at the front, as well as a fountain, and plenty of trees and flowers. It was a spectacular sight in such a dry land.

Lord and Lady Darnley, though they had done nothing to deserve the title, were less than pleased to house Anabeth and Mr Banks. They had been asked to, as a personal favour to the Colonial Government, and had no choice in the matter.

Nevertheless, Anabeth's rooms were pristine, with white cotton bed sheets over a large double bed, and sheer, gauzy material hanging at the open arch doors, out onto her own balcony. The house was secluded and set in a safe area, so Beth had no worries about thieves or murderers sneaking in.

Having already dined on the train with Mr Banks, Anabeth was left to her own devices - to wash and rest - until later in the evening, when Lord Darnley had invited her to take drinks with him and his wife in the back garden.

Beth luxuriated in the cool water basin left for her in the bathroom, rinsing her face in it and drying herself on a thick towel. It was such a different experience from the last time she had been in Egypt - this was so much more preferable to sleeping on a thin, lumpy mattress in a humid tent.

The bed called to Anabeth, begging her for a few moments with her before she left for drinks, and so she lay down with a book, and allowed herself to doze. She hadn't been asleep for more than 30 minutes when she awoke, startled.

The walls were pulsing gold, just like they had at home. Her name was being called from beyond the arches to the balcony. She was unsure if she was truly awake - this was too much like the hallucinations she had feared in England, and yet she had not experienced one for more than a week.

Anabeth stood and walked to the balcony, unable to stop herself. The voice calling her was creating a pleasant swelling feeling in her body, as though she were unable to contain her joy at hearing it.

She could feel the pulsing between her legs, just like in those hallucinations. Though at home, the dreams lasted a matter of minutes, not enough time for her to really do anything, leaving her frustrated and begging for a release. Here, however, the dream was felt almost tangible - with the sort of hazy lucidity that made her wonder whether or not she was actually dreaming.

Beth stood on the balcony, her hands resting lightly on the walled edge, the gentle breeze warm, running over her arms and up through her hair, like fingers massaging her scalp. Her head fell back on its own accord, allowing the breeze to kiss her neck and wind around her waist, pulling her snugly against the half-wall.

The gentle wind was beginning to feel more solid, more real, like someone was really touching her, holding her, and teasing her. It began to lift from her waist and cover her breasts, causing the pulsing between Beth's legs to become almost painful.

"Henutsen," the name hung in the air. Anabeth wasn't sure if she'd heard it or if she'd thought it but it was there.

"Sekhemkhet?" she whispered, unsure, but almost in response, the wind tightened around her, becoming even more solid, and causing her to let out a small moan as her nipples hardened beneath her cotton shirt. Beth raised her hands from the wall to join the phantom at her breasts, her hands covering the strange air that she could feel.

"Anabeth?" A knock came at the door.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the dream ended. The gold, hazy look that everything had taken on was gone, along with the strange embrace around her. Beth was still standing on the balcony, though, her hands still mere centimetres from her breasts, as though there was something there to cradle.

"Anabeth, are you awake?" It was Lord Darnley. He must be collecting her for drinks.

"Yes," Beth breather, her voice not quite working. "Just a moment," she called slightly louder.

Anabeth returned to her room, smoothing down her hair, noticing that all of the clips were missing, and it was tumbling down her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Darnley, I fell asleep," Beth smiled as she opened the door with one hand and held her hair together at the back of her neck with the other hand. Darnley's eyebrows shot up at the sight of her, and she couldn't blame him. Her face was flushed, her clothes were creased, and she was hunched over as much as possible so that her nipples might not stick through the fabric so far.

"It's quite alright, you've been travelling very far. We're serving drinks in the main parlour if you care to join us?"

Beth tried to look apologetic, but she wasn't sure it came across. "My apologies, Lord Darnley, but I feel so tired that I think I might just retire for the evening, if that's alright."

"Of course," Darnley agreed, though he looked irritated. "I'll just tell my wife that you'd rather waste the port that has already been poured for you."

In no mood to negotiate, Beth simply smiled. "Yes, please do. Goodnight."

Darnley looked positively shocked when Beth closed the door, but she couldn't care less. He was a rude man.

Anabeth wasted little time thinking of it though. She had so many questions - had that really been a dream? It hadn't felt like a dream. It felt so real that Beth felt the need to test it. So, she walked out to the balcony and looked down the small street to see if anyone might over hear her.

She was beginning to feel foolish, but she knew she had to try something before her sense got the better of her.

"Sekhemkhet?" She called quietly into the night. Beth waited for a few moments, but nothing happened. She was about to call again when a dog barking made her jump. She felt like an imbecile.

What had she been thinking? That some ancient Egyptian that had been long dead would have answered her call into the night? She was certain now. Her insanity was getting the better of her.

As she changed into her nightshift and climbed under the thin sheet of bedding, she prayed silently that her insanity would not ruin the meeting with the very important claimant of the artefacts tomorrow afternoon.

Anabeth woke with the sun, having slept the most peaceful night she could remember. No dreams to wake her in the night or frighten her when she awoke.

Today she was meeting the supposed descendent. She had yet to even learn a name for the man, something that bothered her as she dressed and did her hair. It was unlike her to be unprepared for things.

Over breakfast - a grand spread of fruits, pastries, and cooked goods which continued to arrive from the kitchen despite there only being four of them - Lord Darnley and Mr Banks tried to enlighten her as to the company she would be meeting today. Peter would be collecting them shortly to take them to the museum for the meeting.

"Terribly backwords people," Darnley announced through a mouthful of eggs, "never quite know how they're going to react."

"They're cultured, you mean," Mr Banks supplied, however Darnley studiously ignored him. Lady Darnley hadn't said a word all morning. Her chin was raised high enough that Beth wondered if the Lady's neck was beginning to hurt. She must have been incredibly offended last night.

"You know," Darnley continued, "this fellow that you're meeting today refused to speak with me. Said he didn't have time. Can you believe that? An Egyptian? Not having time for a British man. No sense. No sense at all."

Anabeth caught Mr Banks eyes and repressed a giggle. Banks mouth quirked up at one corner in response. Perhaps they would become friends.

"This fellow's name is Akhenaten," Mr Banks supplied. "He doesn't say much, especially not to the British. Speaks only Arabic from what I've heard."

"You know him?" Anabeth asked.

Mr Banks shook his head. "No, I sent ahead to gain information. Apparently, he is causing quite a stir among the locals."

Anabeth's eyebrows raised as her head tilted to one side. "How so?"

"Well, according to the locals they knew he was coming." Lord Darley managed to put down his cutlery. His eyes were twinkling brighter than an old biddy who had found out some fantastical gossip. "The locals are afraid of him, they say he is a sign of terrible luck coming to Egypt."

"Now, I've heard he is a sign of good luck," Mr Banks objected.

Before either of the two men could push the conversation any further, Peter was led into the room by one of the Darnley's servants.

"Good morning," he beamed. He was dressed very smartly.

"Mr Carter," Lady Darnley stood, the picture of good manners. She was even smiling. Then again, Beth wasn't sure if it was just the angle she could see her from. "Will you join us?"

"I'm afraid not, Lady Darnley. We must make haste. I've been told the clouds are being unpredictable today, and if it begins to rain, I'm afraid we won't make it into town."

"Ah yes," Lord Darnley leaned over to Mr Banks. "Have you ever seen it rain in Egypt, Mr Banks?" Darnley smirked as Banks shook his head. "It practically floods in an instant. No going in or out. The ground around these parts is so dry it cannot absorb so much water at once."

"In that case we best leave now," Mr Banks rose from the table and Anabeth followed suit.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality, Lord and Lady Darnley," Anabeth nodded to them before she left the table.

"I'm glad you find our provisions suitable," Lady Darnley strained to say the words. It was clear to Anabeth that the woman was hoping for no mention of thanks so that she could continue in her mood.

Smiling, Beth turned from the table and followed Peter out to the carriage. He was right, the clouds were doing strange dances in the sky, the shades ranging from light grey to almost black. If it was an omen it was not a good one.