Actually, she didn’t. In his current state, Amenhotep IV was likely to say something utterly crazy. He didn’t disappoint.

“I’m building a new city for us.”

“I don’t understand, Pharaoh,” said Nefertiti. “What new city? Where would it be? Why haven’t you told me before?”

“It will lie halfway between here and Memphis,” he continued. “It will be the greatest city in the world. I will never leave there. Not even to wage war or collect tribute. Thebes and Memphis can return to the desert for all I care.”

The crowd was loudly chanting the pharaoh’s name, but Nefertiti wasn’t ready to let him go. She clung to her husband and said nothing more. But then he pulled away and began walking up to the reviewing stand-without so much as a kiss or a good-bye.

“Oh!” he said, turning around to her. “I have saved the best for last. Tomorrow I will change my name to honor our god’s greatness. No one will ever again confuse me with my father.”

“What will I call you?” the queen asked, her mind reeling and her knees weak.

“Akhenaten.”

And then, to deafening applause, the pharaoh strode to his chariot and began his ride to immortality.

Chapter 12

Thebes

1347 BC

AN EVEN GREATER ROAR echoed through Thebes as the pharaoh’s horses picked up speed.

High atop the reviewing stand, Nefertiti watched… Akhenaten… and tried to appear calm.

Meanwhile, two deep-set eyes leered at her. They belonged to her husband’s royal scribe, a powerfully built man in his late thirties named Aye.

The populace was mesmerized by the horse-faced pharaoh galloping his favorite chariot, but Aye could have cared less. He was tantalized by the nervous young queen-and then aroused when she slipped her index finger into her mouth to bite her painted nail before remembering that thousands might witness her insecurity.