Hawk of the West - KYLIE QUILLINAN

A woman wearing a white gown with a golden sash stands in the courtyard of a temple.

With her plan to seek justice for the murdered women in tatters, Kassaya joins forces with others who have the same goal. Together they will bring down Pharaoh — or die in the attempt.

As hearts and fates intertwine, Kassaya learns that alliances can be both fragile and treacherous. Betrayed by an ally she never suspected, she faces a choice between life or loyalty.

Set against the grandeur of Egypt’s 20th Dynasty, The Palace of the Ornaments weaves a spellbinding tale of power, passion and peril. For readers of historical fantasy who relish stories of courageous women defying conventions and shaping their own destinies.

Also in this series:

A woman wearing a white dress with a gold sash stands in front of a temple.

A woman wearing a white dress with a golden sash stands in front of a pyramid.

A woman wearing a white gown with a golden sash stands in front of pyramids and a desert track.

A woman wearing a white gown and a multicoloured flat collar walks past a paved area surrounding a pool. In the background stands an Egyptian temple and trees.

A woman wearing a white gown with a golden sash walks through the courtyard of a temple.

When Pharaoh summoned me to dine with him, it was in the same chamber as he always used when he visited the Palace of the Ornaments. It was just the two of us this time, plus the serving women, and Sehener who had accompanied me. He had barely spoken since his arrival and I was relieved when dinner was served because he would be too busy eating to wonder why I wasn’t making conversation.

“Have you received any messages from Ishtar?” I asked Pharaoh after we had eaten in silence for some time.

I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even know why I did, except perhaps I wanted him to tell me she was well and to see in my face that I knew he lied.

“Who?” He glanced at me briefly before he returned to shovelling food into his mouth.

“My sister,” I said.

If he remembered her, he gave no sign of it.

I forced myself to maintain my silence after that. It was clear his Favourites were only such for as long as it suited him. Then they became nobody. Just another woman whose name he had forgotten, even if he hadn’t quite forgotten her face or her body. After all, how could any man forget my beautiful sister’s face quite so easily as he might forget her name?

We passed the rest of the meal in silence, which seemed strained, to me, at least. Pharaoh probably didn’t notice, too intent as usual on filling his belly. I picked at my meal, eating a bite here and there, but mostly only pretending to eat. My back ached, and I long to stand and stretch, but didn’t dare rise while Pharaoh still ate. A serving woman refilled his goblet three times. She glanced at mine, but made no move towards it since I had taken only a sip or two.

At last, Pharaoh grunted and pushed away his plate. Goblet in hand, he lumbered back to the couch. I restrained my sigh. It seemed the rest of the evening would pass the way it had begun: with Pharaoh’s hand latched firmly to my thigh. At least the advanced state of my pregnancy should mean he had little desire to bed me tonight.

As I sat beside him and tried to pretend his fingers weren’t wandering my leg, my mind filled with thoughts I definitely shouldn’t have in his presence if I wanted to avoid saying the wrong thing. Thoughts of women he had killed: my sister, the Ornament Nebtu, Khaemmalu’s wife Tabiry. Others who had suffered at his hands even if they lived past the encounter: Hilde, Tiye, and, I suspected, Henutmire. Fury stirred within me and I pushed the thoughts away. No good could come of thinking such things in Pharaoh’s presence.

“Your father is being most unreasonable,” he said suddenly. “Some nonsense about a new trade deal.”

I froze. My mind was blank and I had no idea how to respond. How could he be thinking of something so mundane while I thought about my dead sister?

“Well?” he demanded. “Do you have nothing to say to that?”

I stammered, still searching for a response. Anything. You murdered my sister. Not that. Anything but that.

“My lord.” It was all I could think of. Words. I needed other words.

Warmth pulsing at my wrist burst through my tangled thoughts. The Eye of Horus pendant. It lay flat against my skin and an unusual heat emanated from it. The warmth calmed me, stilling my mind, and suddenly words — appropriate words — came to me.

“I am sure whatever my father has requested is to the benefit of both Egypt and Babylon,” I said. “Father does nothing without much consideration and good reason.”

Pharaoh grunted and gulped the last of his wine. He held up his goblet and a serving woman swiftly appeared with a bottle. She refilled the goblet and backed away, careful to keep her behind out of his reach. Pharaoh took another swallow, then rested the goblet on his knee. He lapsed into silence.

I focussed my attention on the pendant at my wrist, trying to notice nothing but its warmth. Not the unbearable oaf of a man who sat beside me. Not the way his fingers pinched and prodded. Not the indecently loud slurps when he drank, nor the way he gasped for breath even when he did nothing other than sit and grope my thigh.

The pendant had protected me, just like Neferu said it would. It calmed me enough to formulate a reply before Pharaoh became angered at my lack of response. Tonight would not end the way our game of senet had, with me fleeing the chamber, convinced he was either chasing after me or sending guards to haul me back for punishment.

The remainder of the evening passed in a predictable way. Pharaoh drank and grunted, burped and farted. I sat beside him, forcing myself to maintain my silence, and trying to pretend I didn’t feel his fingers digging into my leg. I kept my attention on the pendant and, sometimes, the ache in my back. At least it gave me something else to think about. Eventually, after what seemed like an interminable length of time, he gave one last grunt, set his goblet down beside him on the bench, and got to his feet.

He strode across the chamber without even so much as a farewell to me. His goblet toppled over to land on its side. A few drops of wine flowed out and seeped into the golden fabric of the cushion. Just one more thing Pharaoh discarded without thought when he tired of it.