“speech”
But she had refused to be satisfied with such; the throne of Egypt was within her reach, and so she had bared her teeth to Thutmose, and challenged him, scant weeks after Neferure's birth, her diminutive body unhealed from the ordeal of birth. And so she had lost to her cruel, foolish brother — he had thrown her out of Karnak, with the order that she never return on pain of death.
In her reverie, Hatshepsut too looked toward the sea, darkly fascinated by the chaotic curl of the waves. A legion of her father's soldiers, all good men, had perished during an excursion to the sea when she was young — she had hated the brine ever since. “I wanted to be Pharaoh,” the Egyptian found herself murmuring toward the pale wolf, the feline grace of his body not squandered upon her.
“I am Beloved of Amun; I was chosen by Him to lead, and this my earthly father knew. But my brother, my betrothed, did not accept this. He did not accept when my father appointed me as Regent over all of Karnak, and he did not accept the word handed down by the Divine One.” A strange light filled her eyes then; Hatshepsut had done her grieving over the loss of everything she held dear, but the rage she felt toward Thutmose II had no bounds.
“He banished me,” the small ruler finished crisply, whatever emotion had briefly wavered in her voice shed as if it were a serpent's skin. Lapis eyes found the brilliant jewelry set in the snowy Pharaoh's face, and with a tiny tremble of her lips, she dipped her head low before him. He had achieved what she had not, though Hatshepsut was well aware of the impossibilities posed by her sex.
“And you? We are far from home, you and I, Pharaoh. Surely the word of the gods was not the only thing to draw you to this place.” Again she glanced toward the sea, but its draw had fled her, and this Ankh Khafra was much more intriguing than the treacherous saltwater.