Kiilaq stood ramrod straight guarding the princess' door. The Were Impala! The Imperial Envoy to Taproot! The Speaker for Tree Talkers! he upbraided himself in the tiniest corner of his tightly shielded mind. When she breezed by him to enter her quarters her scent, mixed with a subtle perfume, went straight up his nostrils and something tensed deep in his groin.

The chattering high pitched voices silenced and suddenly Aamunet was there again.

“You will feel free to enjoy the party, my Captain,” she said, looking deep into Kiilaq's serious deep brown eyes, with an impish smile.

"Of course, Princess Envoy,” Kiilaq returned blankly, stunned at her transformation. She had completely changed all of her clothing and jewelry. He thought she was only taking a moment to 'freshen up', but now, a shimmering bright red, floor length gown, replaced the Imperial white flowing robe. Bright golden flowers with diamond and ruby jewels adorned her hair, face, and hands replacing the slim tiara and torq of office.

The dark kohl surrounding her dark eyes now enhanced by tiny red and white flowers on decorative green vines drew his eyes in and struck him dumb as though he were the impala frozen by the gaze of a lioness.

Her smile dropped at his tone. “You will call me Amunet!” she hissed. “You are my personal guard captain and you must obey me!”

His eyes stayed on her intent face, though it was a battle with the plunging vee of her neckline that sought to force his eyes to her bare cleavage.

“Aamunet,” he said softly, tightly, fully in control. “I will enjoy your party. I hope there is amurd wine.”

Thankfully she relented with a giggle and swept past him, the swirling skirt of her bright red dress trailing behind her, along with that alluring scent that seemed to shut down his brain and make bugs crawl in his gut.

Back in the King's Audience Hall, Kiilaq stood behind and to her left as she greeted guests, mind open to the godworld, searching the thoughts and intent of each man as he took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the back of it. Her birthday gave them unprecedented access to do such. Out of duty, she had allowed all the bachelors her mother desired to attend upon her, but there were so many, she could hardly save a dance for them all. The receiving line took up two hours. Near the end of the river of unmarried noble sons came the Were Shark King of Great Shark. His red robe and cloth of gold overtunic matched the princess' attire perfectly, as though planned. An endless shiver of golden sharks circled his crown, sparkling with diamond eyes.

“It is an honor to finally meet such an outstanding woman,” he murmured looking directly into her eyes. He brushed his lips against the back of her hand then straightened. “I and all my kingdom stand at your service.”

“Thank you,” Aamunet said with a bright smile. She paused, perhaps captured by his black eyes and smiling face.

“I wish you health and long life on this and every day. I pray to the gods old and new for your safety in your important duties,” the Shark King said.

Aamunet nodded and held out her hand for the next man. She glanced at the Were Shark King's back. His cloth of gold could hardly disappear into the crowd.

Death, what do you know of the King of Great Shark? Kiilaq quickly started his standard vetting process of someone who looked likely to get close to his Principal.

Finish up there and get her up to the dais. Our King bears news, came Dethar's mental answer.

“My Princess, your cousin wishes to make an announcement,” Kiilaq stepped forward, neatly injecting his body in front of the last men. He held his arm out toward the dais where the Were Jaguar King stood.

“Of course,” she agreed, relieved and already moving toward Aamankhotep. The ten men in the line behind her huffed in annoyance but knew better than to protest openly.

The Princess trotted up the dais stairs breathing deeply. At the top she squared her slim shoulders and turned to face her cousin as well as the packed hall with a radiant smile.

Aamankhotep reached down and took her hand in a rare show of public familial affection. His pregnant wives sat halfway down the wide dais steps on plush chairs, but that never stopped the rumors about the cousins' affection.

“For your first present at your birthday,” Aamankhotep filled the hall with his voice, “let me tell you that your father, General Nnngozi has returned this very hour, victorious! Jjumoke is safe and well, and Ardjia has ten more star ships!” He raised her hand triumphantly while a roar of approval shook the walls.

Aamunet's smile became a grimace as she fought back tears of relief for her father and her cousin, Jjumoke, and all the warriors who had to fly away from Ardjia. She had held her emotions in check for so long, worried over her father first when he left Ardjia for Taproot, and then when he left Taproot to quell the betrayal at Kold Ring.

“Thank the gods and goddesses! Is he coming here? Tonight?” she asked, once more hope lighting her expression.

“Yes,” Aamankhotep smiled down at her. “He will land here soon.”

“Then let us party!” she cried to the mass of men. They roared again enthusiastically and the dancing commenced. Her female friends, relatives, and maids shared in the bounty of dance partners.

*

Aamankhotep took Aamunet's first dance twirling her expertly around and around to the drum and wooden flute music provided by his harem, then handed her off to the gaudily dressed Shark King. He suddenly regretted purposely exhausting himself by giving so much ka this day while holding court and checking over the priests and his court's decisions, all the while worrying over Rohjer's disappearance like one runs one's tongue over a painful rotten tooth endlessly and uselessly. The budding space program was his, since Rohjer was not here to push it along. So too most all of Rohjer's other duties. He let Kaff, Rogard, and Luxerxes do what they would, but then checked over everything they accomplished. The Red Star temple's growth fell to him though it was Rohjer's purview. Aamankhotep had to run the entire continent now as well as keep tabs on his Golden Valley court and their shenanigans. He fielded so many marriage requests every day and not just for Aamunet's hand, but Kings still sent their daughters, hoping he would take a Third Wife and/or Rohjer might take a Second after Zahra, to whom he was merely handfasted, not yet properly betrothed. Their were marriages to be approved or rejected from all the regions, and he had to carefully consider each objection presented to him by his politically motivated court.

“I am coming to wish Princess Amunet a happy day,” God Emperor's voice suddenly blanketed Aamankhotep's mind.

“Father!” Aamankhotep said, surprised. “She will be well pleased,” he managed politely, shaken to the core by his suspicions that this man, his own father must somehow be behind Rohjer's disappearance.

He suddenly wished that Jumoke had not increased the speed and efficiency of air car engines to cut the transoceanic flight time to a mere four hours. The party was sure to be in full swing still.

“Akil,” Aamankhotep snapped to his Chief Vizier, then nodded to his childhood friend Chatulaka to approach. “Have Ubaid send me blood slaves. Now.”

Chatulaka lifted his wrist to his King and Aamankhotep took it, slicing into the flesh with a sharp stab of ka, then drinking deeply and swiftly of his friends life's energy. Chatulaka staggered away, drained, but uplifted emotionally and spiritually by the exchange, just as the first blood slave arrived and neatly slit his own wrist with a knife then offered it forward to the Were Jaguar King.

Aamankhotep did not tell anyone but Dethar that his father was on the way. He saw no reason to ruin the happy atmosphere with anxiety. He affected relaxation, lounging back among the pillow packed throne sipping ka from blood slaves along with wine from a golden goblet, but his blood red eyes glowed with pain and irritation.