New Release and Giveaway! ANNABETH NEVERENDING by Leyla Kader Dahm

Excerpt:

I give over the encrusted ornament to Mrs. Lansing, who offers to clean the piece. She takes out a buffing cloth and polishes the necklace in a flash.

“This shape is an ankh. It’s an ancient Egyptian symbol.”

“Do you know what it means?” I ask, curiosity seeping in.

“I believe it represents some sort of key.”

Now that it’s been spiffed up, Mrs. Lansing and I admire my find, which sparkles in the muted autumn sun.

“Is it real gold?” I wonder aloud.

“I’d say so. In fact, this is the darkest, most beautiful gold I’ve ever seen. Just enough alloy was added to the precious metal to make it durable while maintaining its warmth of color. What did you pay for it?”

“Ten dollars.”

“Looks like somebody’s a born negotiator,” Mrs. Lansing states, with a hint of pride. “You got quite a bargain, kiddo.”

I take the ankh back into my possession and caress its cool, smooth surface. I feel everything around me go topsy-turvy, upside down and inside out…

 

***

 

I’m enveloped by heat stronger and more intense than any I’ve experienced before. Drops of perspiration tickle my skin as they run underneath my flowing linen gown. I feel arms clasping a chain behind my neck. My hands fly up to find the ankh resting on my collarbone, but I didn’t move them there. It’s as though I’m a mere observer, instead of a participant, when it comes to this body’s actions.

The man who has just bestowed the necklace upon me pulls away, and I’m allowed a good look at him. He’s a hideous fellow with bulging eyes, a hooked nose, and a shock of bright red hair that peeks out from underneath a black-and-white headdress. His outfit, the way he has about him, makes him seem important. Is he a pharaoh?

He grins, semitoothlessly, and I feel myself smiling in return.

“This is all for you, to commemorate your sixteenth year, your entry into womanhood,” says the probable monarch.

“My gratitude runs as deep as the Nile,” I reply, in a voice that is not my own, in a language that is not my own, and yet I know exactly what I’m saying.

The man, who’s wearing a tunic covered with fringe, motions to a procession of beautiful objects, the likes of which I never could have imagined. Priceless treasures zoom past, carried by servants wearing loose shift dresses and stiff black wigs. Elaborately carved pieces of ivory and ebony furniture, lion and leopard skins, gem-encrusted gold jewelry in the shape of beetles and butterflies, and granite statues of animal-faced men and women are all presented to me individually. Clearly, these are gifts for a very privileged young lady. What I wouldn’t give to own them myself.

Another Egyptian, a young man who is ostensibly a prince, looks to be seething with anger. His arms are crossed; his face, set in a scowl. He watches on in disgust as the gifts continue to appear.

“This show of generosity shall stir jealousy in her sisters,” he states venomously.

“I reserve the right to spoil my favorite daughter as I see fit,” replies the suspected ruler.

And now, the last offering, the one with the place of honor at the end of the parade, is finally brought before me.

A boy! Or is he a man?

“This prisoner of war is such a fine specimen, he would be wasted as a lowly house slave. He shall serve as your bodyguard,” announces the intimidating patriarch. “His name is Sethe.”

The captive has shackles on his hands and feet. I can even make out a brand upon his chest. It seems as though it’s still scarring over, which is understandable, since he was not born into slavery. Regardless, he looks like somebody who has done nothing but labor in the sun. His skin is bronzed, and his muscles are impossibly defined. He seems reluctant to look at me.

Finally, his gaze meets mine. I’m at a distance, yet I can still make out the flecks of gold that dapple his hazel eyes. For a blissful moment, I’m lost in them, swimming in their beauty, floating in their comfort.