“That is all, Lady, no other name was mentioned, and the Council adjourned to consider these.”
“No other name?”
“Do you then miss one, perchance, Tua?”
She made no answer, only her lips seemed to shape themselves to a certain sound that they did not utter. The two women looked each other in the eyes, then Asti shook her head.
“It may not be,” she whispered, “for many reasons, and amongst them that by the solemn decree of long ago whereof I have told you, our blood is barred for ever from the throne. None would dare to break it, not even the Pharaoh himself. You would bring my son to his death, Tua, which such another look as you gave him in yonder hall would surely do.”
“No,” she answered slowly, “I would not bring him to his death, but to life and honour and—love, and one day I shall be Pharaoh. Only, Asti, if you betray me to him I swear that I will bring you to your death, although you are so dear.”
“I shall not betray you,” answered the priestess, smiling again. “In truth, most Beautiful, I do not think there is any need, even if I would. Say now, why did a certain captain turn faint and leave the hall to-day when your eyes chanced to fall on him?”
“The heat,” suggested Tua, colouring.
“Yes, it was hot, but he is stronger than most men and had borne it long—like others. Still there are fires——”
“Because he was afraid of my majesty,” broke in Tua hurriedly. “You know I looked very royal there, Mother.”