Ishtar returned to her own temple. Even though she had been away for an entire year, it was still kept in perfect order, as if she had only lived here yesterday.
Her irritated mood eased slightly. Ishtar dismissed her maidservants, lay down on her enormous bed, and closed her eyes, deliberately ignoring the light radiating from her father.
That annoying old bastard had never considered me his real daughter, had he?
The Anunnaki were a disgusting bunch too.
Uruk, the city she had built with her own hands, now seemed as though it no longer belonged to her either—at least, she did not feel the slightest sense of belonging here.
Why had things turned out this way?
Other than Enki, the only god Ishtar could think of who had been willing to draw close to her was that idiot older brother of hers. At the very least, he had earnestly arranged her marriage and tried to find her a reliable husband.
Though the one he had ultimately found had not been all that reliable.
Other than Enki and Utu, the one most willing to be close to her had probably been Ninshubur.
When Ishtar had died in the Netherworld, that maidservant had been willing to cry and plead before the gods as a human, eventually moving Enki to bring her back.
The person she loved most, the one she had been most willing to trust.
But she was dead now. She had been dead for a long time.
Her lifespan had reached its end, and she had entered the Netherworld. By now, she should have been sleeping peacefully within some spear enclosure.
Ishtar opened her eyes.
"Ninshubur," she called softly.
"My goddess?"
Shamhat, who had been waiting by the door, poked her head in.
"I wasn't calling you."
Ishtar waved