Djer scooped Jake around the shoulders. “We’d best continue this conversation in a more private setting.”

He and his companions moved to a creaky set of stairs. It was little better than a ladder and led to a set of rooms above the hall. Djer took them to a game room, set up with scarred tables and piles of stones used as playing pieces.

Jake spoke first, needing to clarify the situation. “I didn’t kidnap her.”

Nefertiti had her arms crossed, sulking as only a princess can.

“The danger here is far worse,” Jake said, and explained all that had befallen them.

With the telling, Djer sank into one of the chairs. His face went hard with concern. “That crazed man was the pharaoh’s brother? All thought him dead.” His eyes found Nefertiti. “Your uncle was a fierce advocate for bringing all the people of Deshret together as one. A noble cause. No wonder my cousin had him imprisoned.”

“And now Kree means to murder my father and make himself the new pharaoh. Once his place is secure, he will no longer need my uncle alive.”

Another of Djer’s companions spoke. He was a frail old man with a sunken face. “Kree has made many enemies and will make them suffer for it.” He glanced around the room. “It will not be long before we’re all hanging by our necks or running for our lives.”

Another nodded, a woman with braided blond hair and a long, rippling scar down one cheek. “Torcolus is right. A shadow fell over Deshret as the pharaoh slumbered. If Kree climbs to the throne, a true and endless night will come.”

“Then we must stop him,” Jake said.

“But the pharaoh may already be dead,” said a young man with a pocked face.

Djer shook his head, his eyes lost in calculation. “I know my cousin. As long as Nefertiti is free, he’ll bide his time.” He picked up one of the stones from the table and bounced it in his palm. “She’s a loose game piece, unpredictable. He’ll not make such a drastic move until he can see the entire field laid out before him.”

A knock at the door made them all jump.

Djer nodded for the man with the pocked skin to open it and for Nefertiti to hide her face again.

As the door opened, a scamp of a boy, about nine years old, burst into the room, all energy as if he’d downed a gallon of strong coffee. “I have word of the horns!”

Djer glanced to Jake and explained, “I sent runners to find out why the horns were blaring. To discern your fate.” He turned back to the boy, pulled a brass coin from a pocket, and placed it in the child’s palm. The coin quickly vanished.

Once paid, the boy spoke in a breathless rush. “They say that someone tried to poison Pharaoh Neferhotep. Outlanders. From Calypsos!” The boy spat on the floor. “Most have been caught, but one escaped. All the guards search for him. A reward of three hundred silver pieces is placed on his head. It is also whispered that he killed the princess. Or maybe the princess is under a spell. Or maybe she’s even helping them.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past her to poison her own father.”