He chuckled, but he didn’t let me go. “You’re not a bird anymore; you’re a kitten, wanting to pounce on anything that catches your eye. Well, little kitten, this dance is to please the gods and to thank them for all that they’ve given us. It’s a sacred thing, not a game for little girls to play at. If you want to dance for the gods someday, you will, but not now. When you’re older.”
His voice was always loud, a trait he’d kept from his days commanding Pharaoh’s troops on the battlefield. One of the dancers who was waiting her turn to perform overheard him and left her group to approach us. I gasped when I saw her: She was so beautiful! Next to her, my dearly loved Mery would have looked like a little brown hen beside a long-limbed, dark-eyed gazelle. The dancer’s eyes were artfully outlined with black kohl, the lids glittering green as the reeds along the Nile, and her lips were tinted the rich red of sunset. I stared, fascinated by the dozens of gold charms adorning her tightly braided wig, but when she smiled at me and offered me her tambourine, I worshipped her with gratitude.
While I bounced on Father’s shoulders, beating the little instrument with more enthusiasm than skill, she talked to him. At first I paid no attention to their conversation, but I soon began to feel Father’s back growing straighter and straighter, his shoulders tensing.
“That will be enough, my darling,” he said, reaching up to still my hands. “Give the tambourine back to this young woman now and thank her.” I wondered why his voice sounded so strained, the way it did whenever I’d done something wrong that was too serious for him to laugh off.
“Why so eager to be gone?” the dancer drawled, glancing up at Father from beneath lowered eyelids. “She can play with the tambourine a while longer. The child has talent as well as beauty. You should stay at least long enough to see me dance. I promise you, you won’t regret it.” She gave him a strange little half-smile.
I didn’t know what the stranger was trying to do, giving my father such odd, sidelong looks; I just knew that he didn’t like it and neither did I. “I’m done,” I announced abruptly, handing back the tambourine. “Thank you very much. I want to go home now.”
I saw the dancer’s lovely face turn ugly in an instant. She snatched the tambourine from my hands and muttered something under her breath. The only words I could make out were “that child … spoiled.”
“I didn’t spoil anything!” I protested as Father carried me off.
“And you never could,” he said fondly. “So let’s not spoil this happy day by going home too soon. There are still plenty of things to see and taste and try. Now tell me the truth, my kitten: Do you really want to go home, or did you just want to go away from that sharp-faced little dancer?”
“Away,” I said. I took a deep breath and added: “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Father exclaimed. “For not liking her? That makes two of us.”
“But I should have liked her,” I said. “She was beautiful, and she was kind to me. She let me play her tambourine, and she said nice things about me.”
“My sweet one, beauty and favors and flattery don’t have anything to do with whether or not you should like someone. Affection isn’t something you can buy, not if it’s real. You still like Mery even when she scolds you, right?”
“I love Mery,” I said loyally. “Even if she’s not as pretty as that dancer. She was much prettier than Mery, wasn’t she, Father?”
“Hrmph.” Father coughed into his fist, or at least it sounded like a cough. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?” What was wrong with Father, saying something like that? Mery was nice-looking, but nowhere near as lovely as the dancer.
“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “Anyway, there are more important things than beauty, dearest.”
“But she was prettier than Mery, wasn’t she?” I insisted.
“Let’s not worry about pretty and prettier,” Father said hastily. “And we won’t bother Mery with this. Besides, when you’re near, all the other girls look like old crocodiles. Now let’s go enjoy ourselves!” He broke into a brisk jog that made me shriek with delight as we raced back to the festival.
We arrived home tired and happy that evening to find Mery waiting to share a festive dinner with us. I made a big fuss over how gorgeous our feast looked, but for some reason, Father didn’t do more than glance at it. His eyes were on Mery, who met his warm smile with her own. Even though I was confused, I was also too hungry to wonder about it for long.
While I stuffed myself with roasted duck, fresh bread, and figs dipped in honey, Father sat beside Mery and kept taking the best tidbits of food from his plate, popping them into her mouth with his own fingers. I thought this was very strange. Was something wrong with my beloved nurse that she couldn’t feed herself? Was Father teasing her somehow, treating her like a baby? Before I could put my thoughts into words, Father turned to me, smiling broadly, and said: “My dear little kitten, I have a wonderful surprise for you. I know how much you love Tey, so from now on you’ll be able to love her even more because she’s going to be your new mother.”
I wrinkled my brows, completely confused. “I don’t love Tey!” I objected. “I don’t even know anyone named Tey, and anyway, I don’t need a new mother. I have Mery.”
Instead of thanking me for being loyal to her, Mery laughed and scooped me onto her lap. “Oh, my darling Nefertiti, I am Tey,” she said, twirling my lone lock of hair around her long, gentle fingers.
“No, you’re Mery,” I said firmly, wondering why my nursemaid was saying such silly things. “That’s your real name; it’s what I always call you!”
Father put his arm around Mery’s shoulders, embracing us both. “And I call you my little kitten,” he told me. “Does that make Little Kitten your real name? Well, then! It’s the same for Tey: As soon as you were old enough to talk and to learn the word for Beloved One, that’s what you called her. But it doesn’t change the fact that her mother named her Tey just as yours named you Nefertiti. Do you see?”