"when i was a boy, my father sired two new sons upon his concubines." ramesses did not explain the word. it was not yet for siptah, though the time would arrive when his heir would come of age and be given tribute. such gifts were historically in the form of those to serve in the new harem. it would not do for a son to dabble among his father's consorts.
enough upon that. "they were my brothers, but they were not my mother's children. fearing her wrath, my father sent these young princes into immediate exile with their mothers. they would live, but in some tiny corner of his kingdom, where Ra burns hotly and the dry time is long."
"but my mother was not a fool. she waited until the caravan had taken the mothers and the children, and then she sent her own guards into the desert after them." he looked at siptah. how awful it was that he would have no queen mother to protect him with such ferocity. ramesses had little doubt that treva might have been the one poisoned had satsu still been alive.
"a child who grows in exile might still be raised in hatred. learn mercy, my son, but learn also when there is no room for mercy."
"jawahir and her children serve me. they serve akashingo. watch them. do not trust them. but they must keep their lives."