Nezzar

Part Two: A Gift For the Queen

Receiving your letter pleased me.
Now that you have visited your home kingdom, return to Babylon.
I would like to see you when I return in victory.

The very day after Nezzar's brief letter was delivered, King Cyaxares promptly sent Amytis on her way and, surprisingly, along with Abila. The presence of her mother had made the long journey back to Babylon less miserable. It would seem from the moment Amytis became aware of her pregnant state, her body resolved to become an enemy. The discomfort, mood swings as well as frustratingly persistent morning sickness made her want to crumble into a weeping mess at least twice a day.

"Do not worry, Diasa," Abila had said the night they arrived Babylon. "Even pregnant, you still glow. You are a marvel, my child. When I was pregnant for you, I was swollen like a wineskin. I feared that one poke and pufft—I'd burst." She flicked her fingers with drama. "I swear my nose was the size of a camel's." Slapping her thigh, she laughed heartily.

A small fond smile touched Amytis lips at the memory. She was most grateful her father let Abila come with her. Even now as she sat on a stone bench in these hanging gardens with the morning dew soft on her skin and several top officials coming forward to give their greetings, Amytis's good mood did not wane.

"Pour me another cup." Amytis held her cup in Rubati's direction. As the care child poured in a warm stream of coconut milk mix of dates, honey and savoury spices, Amytis wondered about Nezzar. She had returned to Babylon two days ago, and she assumed that he and his army would be back in the latter days of the month. She was eager to see him and wary all at once. Why did Nezzar say nothing about her pregnancy? That had been the reason she sent him a letter in the first place.

Nezzar's sparse response had left Amytis in the dark. Despite assuring herself that it didn't matter, her concern wouldn't leave. Frowning, she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. Now that she thought of it, Nezzar had never once talked about heirs, not that they had talked a lot in the years they were married, but—

"Queen Amytis!"

So sudden and bright was the greeting that Amytis' heart jumped in her chest. Turning in the direction the voice came from, her frown deepened when she did not recognise the face. He was a rather tall man dressed ornately in embroidered layers of purple and cream-coloured silk with tassels lining the edge of his garment. Albeit his appearance of about forty, he held a polished walking stick with a hand that flashed numerous bejewelled rings. He somewhat reminded her of Graya. The excessive display of wealth screamed of significant insufficiency in some areas.

Schooling her features, Amytis cradled her warm cup with both hands and blinked at the peacock of a man. "Who are you?"

Judging from how her guards had not reacted offensively at his approach, he must be a top official.

"I am Sin-Nasir," he bowed at the same time a lupine smile formed on his lips. For reasons Amytis could not name, she immediately felt uncomfortable. "Have you perhaps heard of me, my queen?"

It was grating. Having to maintain poise and courtesy in such a situation was grating beyond belief. In moments like this, temptation flooded in. Amytis wished she was predisposed to harshness and commanding her guards to remove irritating subjects from her presence.

"I have not. Who are you?"

Sin-Nasir straightened and smoothened his wispy goatee. That wolfish smile remained. "I am the only living cousin of the great king Nebuchadnezzar. Why? I could even be termed His Majesty's brother."

Amytis praised herself for stifling whatever surprised reaction pressed to make an appearance at his revelation. Nezzar and Sin-Nasir possessed no physical resemblance Amytis could immediately see. Maybe the height. But that was where it ended. Nezzar was broad-shouldered, large and possessed handsome yet fierce facial features; Sin-Nasir, on the other hand, was lanky with a slim sparsely bearded face and eyes that seemed... wrong. Now that she thought of it, Nezzar had mentioned his cousin once, referring to him as an idiot. The man standing before her did not come across as an idiot, rather, conniving would be a better description.