Chapter 48

When it came to suffering a loss, a man would never be the one to do so, but driven by sheer pride, Inanna insisted on receiving the exact same treatment.

The prince was somewhat surprised, but clothes in this era were easy to put on and naturally even easier to take off; with a mere shrug of his shoulders, they were suddenly on equal footing. Izmir lay half-reclining against a pile of soft cushions, toying lazily with the small dagger he had carried with him for years. The sharp blade caught the candlelight, casting shifting glints of light across his bare upper body, repeatedly illuminating the jagged scar where he had once been pierced through the shoulder.

To be fair, such a scar was hardly rare for a man who lived away from home and frequently went to war, but under these specific circumstances, it was enough to make Inanna feel rather self-conscious. She fought hard to keep her arms from crossing defensively over her chest. Once the ambiguous atmosphere was broken, the chill from the falling snow outside began to seep into the room, growing increasingly distinct as she felt goosebumps rise all over her skin.

Seeing her body shiver slightly, causing a smooth and radiant ripple across her chest, Izmir knew that while she appeared calm on the surface, her mind was in turmoil. For him, this was immensely satisfying both from the perspective of a conversationalist and a man. Abandoning his usual cold severity, he adopted a gentle and coaxing tone instead. "Tell me, what is your true name?"

After all, Inanna could not be that utterly uninhibited. She turned slightly to the side, pulling one knee up against her chest to narrowly shield her modesty, while the garments piled around her waist partially revealed a scar that utterly ruined the aesthetic. "Could Your Highness have forgotten this?"

That brand was burned into Inanna's waist, and the ring was firmly fitted upon Izmir's finger. The dark, cold gleam symbolized the supreme power of the Hittite prince. Izmir studied her face closely for a moment, yet he saw no trace of resentment in her expression.

"You have a point there," he remarked. "Since you are already my person, everything from your past should be completely forgotten so that you may dedicate yourself fully to serving Hatti. Even if you once had a name, speaking of it now has no meaning. If you had merely been an ordinary mute girl back then, I might have left you to fend for yourself in that dry, desolate mountain range. But you chose to fight Luka, and moreover, you defeated him. If I had let you go, Luka would never have been reconciled to it."

He chuckled softly, as though speaking of the most trivial matter imaginable. "I never intended to take back this waist dagger. If you still prefer to strap it tightly against your thigh, you are entirely free to do so."

With a subtle flick of Izmir's finger, the small dagger slid across the carpet and came to a stop right in front of Inanna. "Go have a new sheath made for it another day!"

Inanna did not move. Embedded within the words she had just heard was a certain issue she had never dared to ponder too deeply. "Prince, how did you know..."

"Naturally, I know everything. During the many days you were ill, I was the one who handled everything personally," Izmir stated matter-of-factly. "That way, I wouldn't happen to see this dagger one day, recall past grievances, and order you to be punished by kneeling outside. Mura recognized this personal weapon of mine, which is why she allowed you to bring it in, though she had no idea you would use it for such a purpose. Sukamumu, do not waste your time plotting unnecessary schemes. Giving you this dagger is also a token of my authority. Your foundation within the palace is far too shallow, and since you chose not to lie in my bed, you must learn to protect yourself."

Leaving aside the fact that Izmir was the sole heir to the Hittite king, even if the king had sired seventeen or eighteen sons, it still could not thwart the machinations of ambitious plotters. With Inanna by Izmir's side, even if she were merely a pet bird kept in a cage, precautions had to be taken against someone poisoning her food.

Inanna reached out across the carpet and picked up the dagger. The bending motion caused her chest to form full, droplet-like curves resembling a golden chalice filled with creamy white goat's milk—a sight that tempted Izmir to take them in his hands and play with them. But not now, for Inanna's gaze was far too guarded.

"If you refuse to be my woman," he shifted his legs and changed into a sideways-reclining posture, "then what else can you possibly do? A woman like you, if cast out, would immediately be seized again and turned into a plaything in places teeming with men. I allow you to remain safe and comfortable within the royal palace, but I have no wish to keep a mere ornament."

Seeing that he consistently maintained a distance of an arm's length from her, Inanna felt slightly reassured and replied with a hint of defiance, "Your Highness, I saved your life in the city of Assur back then."

Izmir nodded. "Indeed, which is why I expect that whatever you do now will be at least no worse than what you did then. I have a question: do you truly hail from somewhere even farther away than Harappa? A woman..."

Meeting his sweeping, head-to-toe gaze, Inanna wore an imperceptible expression of sorrow and nostalgia. "Prince, to be precise, I come from a place I can likely never return to. The piece of news that I believe will be useful to you is that I hail from the very same place as that goddess from Egypt."

***

This revelation did not seem to surprise Izmir in the least. "From what I have observed, you appear to have no interest in the position of the goddess."

"Your Highness, I simply wish to go home," Inanna confessed with honest candor, knowing that lying was a poor strategy. "There is nothing more important than returning home, and not everyone desires to remain here. I have witnessed the standoff between Hatti and Egypt with my own eyes, Your Highness. Carol knows far more than I ever did, and such things are her passion. However, just as I am unaware of the contents of her mind, she is equally ignorant of mine. That is perhaps the only way I can assist you."

Such honesty was essential when dealing with a shrewd superior, yet even as Izmir listened, he silently resolved that Inanna would never be allowed to return home. Compared to Carol, Inanna understood her position exceptionally well. A person who knew how to bend with the times was far easier to endure than the troubles Carol brought in her wake, and so he generously shared a piece of intelligence. "At this moment, King Ragshur of Babylon is on his way to Egypt."

Inanna still possessed enough sensitivity to put the pieces together. "Hatti is courting Assyria, while Egypt can ally with Babylon. At the very least, you are evenly matched in Mesopotamia, and for now, neither side holds a clear advantage, though it is a fact that Assyria's national power has sharply declined."

Izmir, however, was thinking several steps ahead. "If Ragshur merely intends to draft a written alliance with Menes, our nation can safely ignore it—such documents are fragile beyond measure. But... Ragshur is also in his prime. If he has gone to Egypt to arrange a political marriage, this alliance will become unexpectedly complex. On one hand, it will be immensely stable; on the other, Ragshur will harbor ulterior motives concerning the succession of Egypt."

"Then Queen Aset..." Inanna thought of that proud, haughty, and overwhelmingly regal queen who had been cast aside by her own younger brother and was ultimately forced to marry a husband of unknown background, and she could not help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Izmir laughed softly. "The women of Egypt are never masters of their own fates. As for Aset, she will likely detest Menes until her dying day. Yet for the King of Egypt, gaining an ally while ridding himself of a woman who constantly vexed him is a highly profitable bargain. All political alliances are forged this way."

Suddenly, he leaned forward, bringing his face inches from Inanna's so that their eyes and noses were almost touching, and smiled with profound meaning. "Yet Aset has never once betrayed Menes from beginning to end. If I were in her place, when Menes was besieged at Assur, even if the army were defeated and slaughtered, I would have marched straight into Upper Egypt without hesitation. Everything she does is driven by the mere hope of love burning in her heart. Can something so fragile truly bind a woman's heart? Or is it as Yayan claims, that physical intimacy is all it takes to make a woman obedient?"

Izmir found Inanna endlessly fascinating. From a disheveled, branded female slave who could endure torture without a single cry yet weep bitterly over a pair of strange shoes, she could seamlessly fade into the background and remain unnoticed, only to suddenly cause minor troubles right when his guard was down—though to this day, Izmir remained unsure whether she had handed over the dagger sheath on purpose. She could also transform into a dancer with a supple waist, performing an enchanting, exotic dance dedicated to the gods that they had never seen before, capturing everyone's attention only to revert to the plain appearance of a wild flower by the roadside.

Who knew how many facets this woman possessed? But at the very least, until he unraveled the secret of her waistband, Izmir had no intention of letting her go.

"Sukamumu, empty words are utterly useless. Will you help me?" Izmir pressed his body closely against Inanna's, his firm, smooth muscles brushing intimately against her delicate, soft curves. When Inanna struggled, he caught her wrists. The tingling, electric sensation of their friction was novel to Izmir and bewildering to Inanna. "Give me some assurance. A woman giving herself to a man... If I recall correctly, you are still my concubine."

He captured her slightly parted lips, which had remained open in astonishment. After employing his tongue just as it was described in manuals, he discovered a faint trace of wine lingering on Inanna's breath. The woman had tried to fortify her courage with wine while nervously awaiting his arrival, only to fall asleep in the process.

Izmir's scent was clean, and had it not been for that hint of alcohol, Inanna would have said his kiss tasted like a dragonfruit—moist, yet devoid of sweetness.

The woman beneath him was rigid from head to toe, even her tongue stiff with tension. Prince Izmir chuckled softly as a wave of sleepiness overtook him, and he finally released her. "Sukamumu, tonight has been most pleasant. As for my guarantee, you will come to understand it in time. Finally, quite apart from our agreement, I demand your absolute fidelity."

With that, Izmir summoned Mura to escort Inanna back to her quarters, having no need for this new bride to wait upon him any longer. Inanna offered no further reply. She had vastly underestimated this prince, underestimating his insight regarding both herself and Carol. She was forced to admit that she was trapped entirely in a passive, inferior position. Yet words like "fidelity" were things Inanna decided to treat merely as a gust of wind blowing past her ears.

Mura watched with an impassive expression as Inanna hastily wrapped herself in her tattered garments. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, finding no trace of anything amiss; both the bed and the carpet were undisturbed. Only the prince's relaxed expression and the faint red mark upon the girl's neck subtly betrayed the intimacy that might have just transpired. Though doubt lingered in Mura's heart, she chose to place her unconditional trust in the prince.

***

That same night, the royal palace of Egypt was far from tranquil. Menes summoned the Grand Vizier Imhotep, who had remained in charge of Egypt during his absence, and inquired about Aset's recent situation. "Has my sister truly remained in the temple all this time?"

"Indeed, and it is most unusual," Imhotep stroked his beard with a deeply perplexed expression. "Given Queen Aset's temperament, how could she sit idly by and watch your wedding with the Nile Daughter draw near without reacting in the least? Perhaps this clandestine preparation of hers is extraordinary; Queen Aset either does not strike at all, or when she does, success is guaranteed."

Mindful of the bond they had shared since childhood, Menes did not speak too harshly. "Then we simply must not afford her the opportunity to strike."

His gaze fixed upon the palace wing designated for foreign envoys, pinning his hopes entirely upon King Ragshur, Menes said to Imhotep, "If she too is to be wed and assumes the status of a queen, she will no longer obsess over remaining by my side. The seat of Egypt's queen belongs solely to Carol."

In truth, King Ragshur had no interest whatsoever in the women of the Egyptian court—save for one. At that very moment, he was trailing closely behind her, vexed by the lack of an opportunity to steer the conversation, knowing that a direct inquiry would instantly expose his identity. Thus, he was forced to rely on shadowing her to glean even the slightest clue. The palace corridors were lined with countless massive columns, and the brightly painted figures gazed down upon anyone passing by with unnervingly lifelike eyes, adding a layer of eerie dread to the atmosphere.

Yet Ragshur was hardly an ordinary man; he merely viewed the shadows cast by the pillars as convenient hiding spots. Otherwise, he never would have stumbled upon such vital information.

Carol was on her way to the temple, carrying freshly bloomed lotus flowers from the banks of the Nile and newly harvested fruits, intending to visit Aset, who had been praying day and night within the sanctuary. She was Menes's sister, and though Aset had never once given her a kind look, Carol always hoped to foster good relations with her family.

Suddenly, Aset stepped out from the shadow of a pillar and blocked her path, startling Carol so severely that she nearly dropped the items she was carrying. Stammering, she asked, "Aset? Why are you hiding here? You gave me such a fright."

Pale from exhaustion, Aset wore a look that, were it not for the heavy blue-green eye shadow, would have starkly revealed the dark, bruised circles beneath her eyes. "Carol, when I brought you back from that world on that fateful day, it was so you might suffer every torment here, atoning for the sin of disturbing Menes's eternal slumber—not for you to revel in wealth and luxury. Now, no matter how I pray, the gods no longer show me favor. True, I may no longer be able to touch you, but someone else can."

She closed in on Carol with a triumphant, manic intensity, her face twisted with the cruel joy of a wish finally fulfilled. "Yes, I am powerless, and my fate may yet be twisted by your existence. But I know this: you are not unique, and someone else has come here as well. Carol, upon this very land, there is always someone who knows how to deal with you!"