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    Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3)
    Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3)
    Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3)
    Ebook131 pages2 hours

    Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3)

    By Jill Eileen Smith

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    About this ebook

    Her father, the Great Pharaoh of Egypt, promised the renowned king of Israel anything he desired. She never could have imagined his desire would include her.

    Princess Siti is happy to let her older sister marry the crown prince out of duty to Egypt. She longs to marry for love--to a great man like those in the romantic poems she adores. But her mother wants her to wed her temperamental cousin, and only her father can overturn the arrangement.

    When news comes of Egypt's triumph over a distant Canaanite city, rumors spread that Israel's great King Solomon himself may travel to Egypt in order to make an alliance. Siti yearns to meet this fabled king, who is as handsome as he is wise, but she never dreamed she might be offered to him as a bride.

    Can she truly leave her beloved Egypt--and love the man who is tearing her away from all she's ever known?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBaker Publishing Group
    Release dateSep 6, 2016
    ISBN9781493404070
    Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3)
    Author

    Jill Eileen Smith

    Jill Eileen Smith is the bestselling and award-winning author of the biblical fiction series The Wives of King David, Wives of the Patriarchs, and Daughters of the Promised Land, as well as The Heart of a King, Star of Persia: Esther's Story, Miriam's Song, The Prince and the Prodigal, and Daughter of Eden. She is also the author of the nonfiction books When Life Doesn't Match Your Dreams and She Walked Before Us. Her research has taken her from the Bible to Israel, and she particularly enjoys learning how women lived in biblical times. Jill lives with her family in Michigan. Learn more at www.JillEileenSmith.com.

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      Book preview

      Daughter of the Nile (The Loves of King Solomon Book #3) - Jill Eileen Smith

      © 2016 by Jill Eileen Smith

      Published by Revell

      a division of Baker Publishing Group

      P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

      www.revellbooks.com

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

      ISBN 978-1-4934-0407-0

      Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. ESV Text Edition: 2011

      This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

      Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, Wendy Lawton, Central Valley Office, P.O. Box 1227, Hilmar, CA 95324, wendy@booksandsuch.com

      If a dedication could be made to a pet, Tiger would receive this one. While he will never read Siti’s story, his playful antics taught me much about the characters. I hope you will enjoy Abdukar as much as I enjoy my Tiger.

      Contents

      Cover

      Title Page

      Copyright Page

      Dedication

      Epigraph

      Prelude

      1

      2

      3

      4

      Interlude

      5

      6

      7

      8

      9

      10

      Grace Note

      11

      12

      Postlude

      Note to the Reader

      Acknowledgments

      A Sneak Peek of The Crimson Cord

      About the Author

      Books by Jill Eileen Smith

      Back Ads

      Back Cover

      Solomon made a marriage alliance with Pharaoh king of Egypt. He took Pharaoh’s daughter and brought her into the city of David until he had finished building his own house and the house of the LORD and the wall around Jerusalem. The people were sacrificing at the high places, however, because no house had yet been built for the name of the LORD.

      1 Kings 3:1–2

      Prelude

      In all the lessons I learned in the harem of my father, Siamun, the Great Pharaoh of Egypt, one stood out above all others. Egyptian pharaohs might marry foreign princesses—women from Mitanni, Syria, Nubia, even as far away as Ethiopia. But never, ever would a Great Pharaoh give his daughter, especially a favored one such as I, to a foreign king.

      It is said that some nations in their eagerness to please Egypt would request a fake princess, just to be able to say they had an Egyptian princess for a wife.

      My father, the Great Pharaoh, always, always refused.

      Until King Solomon of Israel came for a political visit.

      I will never forget the look on my father’s face as he listened to that man speak of beasts and birds and reptiles and even fish! King Solomon knew more than any man my father had ever met. The realization left the Great Pharaoh, son of Ra, shaken.

      In that moment, I think my father would have overlooked every promise he had ever made in order to give King Solomon anything he desired.

      I just did not think that Solomon’s desire would include me.

      1

      EGYPT, 967 BC

      I stood along the prow, watching the reeds pass us, my youngest kitten, Abdukar, held protectively in my arms.

      You should come and join us, Siti. My mother, Thema, Great Wife of Pharaoh, sat beneath the papyrus awning of her ship while female slaves waved palm fronds before and behind her. The shouts of our people singing Bastet’s praises carried to us along the shore. But the air on the water was as still as the Nile beneath us, broken only by the dip of the slaves’ oars in the green water.

      I glanced once more at the peasants and fishermen, workmen who appeared to adore us, though I knew most of them held no affection for the royal family. My heart ached for their plight—so many were terribly poor and taxed above their means—and yet there was little I could do for them.

      I turned away, feeling as I always did when I watched the crowds, and took the steps to the platform to sit on the raised dais beside my sister, Oldest Daughter of the Great Wife. Salama looked at me, one perfectly painted brow lifted in a question she did not need to ask. I nodded and offered her a hint of a smile. She knew what I thought of the way we treated the poor. The discussion was not worth bringing up again now.

      They love this festival to Bastet, my mother said, drawing my pensive mood to her instead. She tapped one lengthy nail along the arm of her golden dais. It gives them something to cheer them. She looked down her long nose at me, as if daring me to disagree. It was not an argument I was in the mood to tackle.

      I want to honor Lapis when we arrive, I said, changing the subject. Her statue must be placed on the platform I ordered nearest the image of Bastet. I met my mother’s gaze, pleased when Abdukar settled serenely in my lap. I petted his soft, spotted fur, the perfect blend of beige and browns. He was my favorite offspring of Lapis, whose mummified body rode entombed on a barge of its own, making its way slowly down the Nile ahead of us to Bubastis, where Bastet’s grand festival would commence the moment we arrived.

      Of course, my dear, Mother said, her attention turned affectionately toward the small kitten in my lap. It is a shame that Lapis could not live to care for him longer. My favorite cat, Lapis, had died shortly after giving birth to a litter of five kittens, two of whom soon perished with her. I had rescued Abdukar and found another cat to nurse him. Cats abounded in my father’s harem, so finding a replacement mother had not been difficult. And cats are surprisingly accommodating creatures when it comes to caring for mothers and kittens. It is why Bastet was my goddess of preference among Egypt’s plethora of choices.

      I touched the amulet of mother cat and kittens that fell softly between my breasts and rested against the fine linen of my garment, while continuing to absently pet the kitten. His purr felt like the thrum of distant drums beneath my hand.

      I suppose we should begin planning your wedding after the chaos of this festival dies down, Mother said, turning to Salama. We will set the date for a year from now—that should be enough time to get everything in order.

      Salama crossed one thin, brown leg over the other, her sheer skirt no longer hiding the gleaming skin beneath. She swung her leg up and down, as she always did when my mother’s attention focused too closely upon her.

      There is plenty of time to discuss it, she said. Shouldn’t we wait until we have secured Bastet’s blessing?

      Mother waved her hand as though thwarting the efforts of a pesky fly. Nonsense. Your father has insisted that the agreement with Hamadi be drawn up and signed by the end of the month. I pushed for sooner, but . . . She looked away, and I knew she struggled to say the truth out loud in front of so many servants. But your father felt a month was sufficient.

      My mother did not want another wife to challenge her place or try to force her daughter into the line that could marry our half brother, the Great Pharaoh’s oldest son.

      You needn’t worry, Mother. Hamadi has been obsessed with Salama since she grew to womanhood. He will not accept another, even if a rival wife stakes a claim she does not possess. I stroked Abdukar’s ears, calmed by the way the kitten turned his head into my hand, as though he fit in the palm like a skin.

      Mother huffed and faced Salama again, ignoring my attempts to assure her. Nevertheless, it is better to secure these things while we can. What if the gods come for me before my time? What would happen to Salama then? No mention of what would happen to me, but then I was the second daughter, whose future did not matter nearly as much to anyone but my father. The thought brought little comfort, for the pharaoh only treated me with favor when he happened to glimpse my presence, which was not often. The truth was that I was left to my own devices, which suited me well.

      Mother has a point, Siti. Salama enjoyed interrupting my musings. She would not be the Great Wife if Hamadi’s mother still lived, and we would not hold such privilege. Salama lifted a manicured hand and studied the tips of each finger as though all of the answers to life’s struggles could be found in the henna patterns there.

      And a privilege it is, Mother said. Her voice took on that tone that I knew meant Salama could not put off wedding plans no matter how loud her protests. Once the agreement is sealed, we will begin construction on a new banquet hall to hold the engagement party. The construction alone will take months . . . She continued on, her voice a drone to my ears, while Salama made occasional comments or answered questions yes or no. This would be my mother’s doing, and I was glad to be free to ignore the conversation. Salama would have little say in the matter and I even less, so it really made no sense to me that my mother cared to

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