Book Name: Nefertiti A Novel
Writer: Michael Moran
In the event that YOU ARE to accept what the viziers state, then Amenhotep
killed his sibling for the crown of Egypt. In the third month of Akhet, Crown
Prince Tuthmosis layin his room in Malkata Palace. A warm wind blended
the curtains of his chamber, conveying with it the desert fragrances of
zaatar and myrrh. With each breeze, the long cloths danced, wrapping
themselves around the segments of the palace, brushing the sun-dappled
tiles on the floor. In any case, while the twenty-year-old Prince of Egypt
ought to have been riding to victory at the top of Pharaoh’s charioteers, he
was lying in his bed-chamber, his correct leg upheld by cushions, swollen
and squashed. The chariot that had bombed him had immediately been
scorched, yet the harm was finished. His fever was high and his shoulders
drooped. And keeping in mind that the jackal-headed lord of death crawled
nearer, Amunhotep sat across the room on a plated seat, not in any event,
jumping when his more established sibling spat up the wine-shaded mucus
that spelled conceivable passing to the viziers.
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