Sephora rode on to the palace gates, worried. What if the king didn't see such renowned qualities like the people of her town did? What if he sent her away; where would she go? She bit her lip. Not home. Once the people learned of her failure, they would no longer accept her, as much as she wished they would. They would resent her, like humans do, for something so deep inside her; she could never abolish it to make them like her again.
She had to be chosen.
Truthfully, she was riding to the palace to be employed by the king as a personal servant and keeper, but a spot as intimate as a personal servant, who would always be around to speak, compliment and take care of the Pharaoh was most important. He would most likely turn to her, if he likes her, as the first choice for a bride. It was crucial she take the spot, or she would never be seen and therefore never be chosen as the next queen of Egypt, as her mother would explain.
"Yes, Aybth, faster!" She urged her ebony stallion. "I need to get there soon before he falls in love!"
She felt a sudden anxious wave of nausea of fear, and of, strangely enough, competition. If I can't become queen, at least I'll do my best. She thought. I must treat this like a game. Mother does. She nodded, kicking the horse in the flanks. She had to be honest with herself, and the honest truth was that she was not riding to the Pharaoh to fall in love. She was riding to him to satisfy her current needs and to abolish all fear that she will not live all that is expected of her. She was going to become queen to look back at those who wanted that of her and smile and finally feel full and right.
Love was not a priority, no matter how "loving" everyone proclaimed her to be. Yes, she liked to be caring and faithful, but she also liked to reach the only goal set forth in front of her. And she would. Sephora smiled. Maybe it won't be so bad somewhere new. Maybe I can be better than before, more exciting than a small town girl with large ambitions. I can be seductive and sexy, alluring and backstabbing…anything to become queen…
She almost fell off her horse suddenly, jolted with the harsh reality of her words.
What was she thinking?
Certainly not the words of a true maiden, as she usually was! Certainly not the words of a virtuous woman in search of the perfect match, hoping it to be the Pharaoh! She shook her head vigorously, trying to scatter the thoughts, like little leeches swarming around a child's leg in a pond. She would not let herself get pulled into those thoughts of…
…Certain perfection. Of guaranteed success.
"NO!" She shouted, covering her mouth embarrassedly. "I'm not like that. Why am I thinking such thoughts?" She shook with fear. It was as if some other side was taking hold of her conscious and flustering her thoughts of harmonious spirit and free willed faith, hoping for the best, letting the gods take their turn at her life.
She wouldn't let herself slip into those thoughts, no matter how alluring. She wouldn't. No, there was no way she would listen to it. Because the last time she did…
…It killed my father.
She shuddered, and paid attention to the horse, which was now galloping at full speed towards the palace, like her dreams, ready to get to their stop and rest for a second. Tired of all the running. She slowed her horse at the gates, patting its neck.
"Halt!" A stern voice said, approaching her. "Who are you?"
"Well," She smiled innocently, working her charm. "I'm Sephora Kirahgen. From Anubis' toe, the town far east from here." The guard looked roughly at the list before him. Names and names of women, all written on a thick papyrus sheet. One of them was to be the queen.
Not hard to guess who.
She bit her lip. "I'm right there," She pointed towards the bottom. "See me?" The guard nodded, almost smiling, and she clicked her tongue adoringly to Aybth, signaling to move once again. She turned once, twice, on her horse like she was one with it, smoothly and gracefully, as a woman should, her mother would say. "What a wonderful place!" She giggled, staring at the amazing architecture, the striking gold-threaded runners hanging down the sturdy beige pillars. She smiled, were they real gold? She thought. How amazing.
"Yes, this palace is brand new as the beauty on your gorgeous face, dear." She heard a voice purr from behind her. Startled, she led Aybth around, towards it.
It was a handsome young man, with the most dangerous looking violet eyes she had ever seen. His skin was dark like the shadow of the desert on the most steaming hot of days, and had sandy-blonde hair, almost bleached white with, what Sephora guess, a lot of tanning. He grinned. "The stable is over that way," He pointed right and Sephora nodded, blushing. "Thank you," she smiled and headed towards the stables.
She reached the stables quickly. He wasn't lying. She grinned. People were so friendly and helpful here, like at home. Maybe she wouldn't even realize the difference. No, before long, I'll forget everything and just know the beauty and happiness here. My new home, so I hope.
She tied Aybth up and promised to come back soon with some snacks and strode off, in search of the entrance.
She looked around for the sandy-blonde man with the violet eyes, and was sad when she couldn't locate him. "As if he had vanished into thin air, he's gone." She mumbled to herself whimsically. "How peculiar."
"Who's gone?" The guard from before.
"A man, he had violet eyes, strong like thunder." She described him.
The guard laughed. "I don't know him, but no one passed through here, you're hallucinating, dear."
She smiled softly. "Where's the entrance?"
The man led her through a maze of hallways, up and down stairs, around identical turns and passes. Sephora was, to say the least, utterly overwhelmed. "How do you remember where you are?" She asked, astounded. The guard laughed offhandedly. "You just get used to it, I suppose. Here we are," He opened the final door, which led to a meeting room filled, from the looks of it, with more than 100 other women! Sephora almost fainted. She would never get picked out of all of them!
She sighed, ready to go home, call herself a failure, and learn to deal with the stabbing looks her townspeople would throw at her like knives at a thief.
The guard nodded at an official looking man and walked away after a nod in return. Sephora turned and gazed around, still in awe of the subtle wealth in every piece of decoration. She ignored the stabbing looks she was getting from the tall official looking man, who wanted to specifically point her out as late and rude, she guessed.
"Now that everyone is here," The annoyed looking man announced. The crowd of girls quieted. "We can begin the ceremony." His eyes stayed on Sephora, azure and filled with what looked like contempt. His hair, brown and short, was in his face and he brushed it away, finally taking his eyes off of her. She shivered, feeling like someone was talking about her.
"Like a show, you will each choose one talent to present to the pharaoh. He not only needs a personal servant, but a woman capable of more than just washing out the tub. Be warned, he is looking for someone so outstanding that she outshines the rest. We will now commence."
And it started. Sephora sat on a bench towards the back of the room, refusing to become intimidated by the prettier women all around her, and their talents. Luckily, no one approached her, though the authoritive man with the dazzling blue eyes kept glancing back at her, he was easy enough to ignore.
Hours past, by then Sephora was starving and tired, wanting to sleep, but she supposed they wanted to weed out the weak women that would leave early. She refused to leave and smirked occasionally when a girl or two would walk out the huge double doors, ensuring her future as anything but a Queen of Egypt.
After many more women left and others finished their performances, Sephora was ready to pass out. What time of day was it? She couldn't guess; there were no windows. But if she arrived at midnight, then it was surely morning by now.
"We will continue tomorrow with the final judgments." The blue eyed man announced suddenly, smirking slightly. "Pleasant dreams."
