backside. How slight the difference between her and Menefra! Turning to Nandor’s pouch, which hung just below her ribs, she held the blood-stained bag against her cheek before pulling the drawstring open. She removed the tiny packet of folded papyrus filled with the bitter-smelling powder that had caused Menefra’s temporary blindness. Next, she found a vial of scented oil, which she sniffed before setting on the counter. Frankincense, but mixed with something clean and fresh-smelling. Mint, perhaps.
Nandor’s cryptic message still baffled her. There had been no time for him to explain.
Finally, she fished out her coronation bracelets, a gift from her father and only jewelry she had not left at the ledge. Together, the three delicate bracelets formed the ornamental band of Egypt’s first woman-pharaoh. She removed the cuff from her thigh, set it next to the bracelets, and contemplated the vision in the mirror before putting out the light. “Enjoy your victory, sister, for the next time we meet it will be you who is erased.”
She padded down the hall, passing the room filled with bound pages—books, Victoria had called them. She longed to examine them more thoroughly, but it would not be tonight. Comfortable for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she returned to the sofa and quickly slipped into a death-like sleep.
Chapte r Six Victoria
There was a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Victoria could not remember how she came to be standing on the patio. Silvery cottonwood leaves and feathery sand swirled around her bare feet as the sky rumbled and flashed bright in the distance. She had been sleepwalking again, dreaming of the lullaby her mother sang while braiding her pigtails.
“Not so tight, Mamá! It hurts!” she’d squealed.
Unlike her grip on the braid, her mother’s voice had been gentle. “Shall I tell your Papí how much you complain?”
“No,” she had answered intently. Do you think he’ll bring Dón Gustavo for dinner again? I like him; he always brings me caramelitos. His stories about the police, though,” she had searched her mother’s face for the truth. “Can they really be true?”
“Some of them must be.” Her mother’s singing had stopped. She looked far away, and then bent down so that they were nose to nose. “Dón Gustavo’s and your father’s friendship is not to be discussed outside of this house. ¿Entiendes??”
Victoria had ignored her. “Teresita is always bragging that her father will soon be the mayor and they’ll be rich—with the help of Dón Gustavo. But if he could, wouldn’t he make Papí the mayor instead?”
Her mother pulled the ribbon so tight that Victoria thought her braid had been guillotined. “Ay, nińa! I’ll be happy for the day your thoughts turn to boys!”
During the day, she could never remember how the tune went, or how her mother’s voice was as clear and light as spun sugar. Curling up inside the patio chair, she watched the storm until she fell asleep. It was not quite dawn when she realized the screams that had wakened her were not a dream and dashed inside. Slumped on her knees, Khara held wisps of her hair between clenched fists as she beat the floor. Victoria yelled, “Wake up!
It’s me, remember? Wake up! You’re safe now.”
Khara’s arms, eyes, and breath froze in a moment of terror.
Victoria wrestled her into her arms and rocked her back and forth. After a few moments, Khara’s composure returned and she pushed away. Bewildered, she wiped her face and looked around the room. Victoria reached for her again, and this time she did not resist. Khara sobbed softly while Victoria sang her mother’s lullaby.
Ay, mi palomita (Oh my little dove) La que yo adore (Whom I adored) Le crecieran alas (Who grew wings) Y volo Y se fue! (And flew away)
Ella no comia (She did not eat) Ni frijoles ni arroz (Either beans or rice) Y se mantenía (And she lived only) Con solo mi amor (On my
Nandor’s cryptic message still baffled her. There had been no time for him to explain.
Finally, she fished out her coronation bracelets, a gift from her father and only jewelry she had not left at the ledge. Together, the three delicate bracelets formed the ornamental band of Egypt’s first woman-pharaoh. She removed the cuff from her thigh, set it next to the bracelets, and contemplated the vision in the mirror before putting out the light. “Enjoy your victory, sister, for the next time we meet it will be you who is erased.”
She padded down the hall, passing the room filled with bound pages—books, Victoria had called them. She longed to examine them more thoroughly, but it would not be tonight. Comfortable for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she returned to the sofa and quickly slipped into a death-like sleep.
Chapte r Six Victoria
There was a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Victoria could not remember how she came to be standing on the patio. Silvery cottonwood leaves and feathery sand swirled around her bare feet as the sky rumbled and flashed bright in the distance. She had been sleepwalking again, dreaming of the lullaby her mother sang while braiding her pigtails.
“Not so tight, Mamá! It hurts!” she’d squealed.
Unlike her grip on the braid, her mother’s voice had been gentle. “Shall I tell your Papí how much you complain?”
“No,” she had answered intently. Do you think he’ll bring Dón Gustavo for dinner again? I like him; he always brings me caramelitos. His stories about the police, though,” she had searched her mother’s face for the truth. “Can they really be true?”
“Some of them must be.” Her mother’s singing had stopped. She looked far away, and then bent down so that they were nose to nose. “Dón Gustavo’s and your father’s friendship is not to be discussed outside of this house. ¿Entiendes??”
Victoria had ignored her. “Teresita is always bragging that her father will soon be the mayor and they’ll be rich—with the help of Dón Gustavo. But if he could, wouldn’t he make Papí the mayor instead?”
Her mother pulled the ribbon so tight that Victoria thought her braid had been guillotined. “Ay, nińa! I’ll be happy for the day your thoughts turn to boys!”
During the day, she could never remember how the tune went, or how her mother’s voice was as clear and light as spun sugar. Curling up inside the patio chair, she watched the storm until she fell asleep. It was not quite dawn when she realized the screams that had wakened her were not a dream and dashed inside. Slumped on her knees, Khara held wisps of her hair between clenched fists as she beat the floor. Victoria yelled, “Wake up!
It’s me, remember? Wake up! You’re safe now.”
Khara’s arms, eyes, and breath froze in a moment of terror.
Victoria wrestled her into her arms and rocked her back and forth. After a few moments, Khara’s composure returned and she pushed away. Bewildered, she wiped her face and looked around the room. Victoria reached for her again, and this time she did not resist. Khara sobbed softly while Victoria sang her mother’s lullaby.
Ay, mi palomita (Oh my little dove) La que yo adore (Whom I adored) Le crecieran alas (Who grew wings) Y volo Y se fue! (And flew away)
Ella no comia (She did not eat) Ni frijoles ni arroz (Either beans or rice) Y se mantenía (And she lived only) Con solo mi amor (On my
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