Suddenly, I am alone. They have not shut the sarcophagus yet, nor set the shrine. I walk to the golden Tutankhamun. No metal, not even the flesh of the gods, could hold a drop of the glowing beauty of his skin, the lush fullness of his mouth. Black glass lined in lapis lazuli is nothing to Tutankhamun’s endless black eyes and lovely dark fringe of lashes.
“You were too beautiful for this nasty world,” I murmur, caressing the cold, sculpted gold. I draw a small wreath of flowers from the folds of my voluminous pale mourning gown, kiss it, and smooth it over the uraeus on this golden Tutankhamun’s brow, and then I whisper to him. “I will join you soon, my only love.”
— The Last Heiress: A Novel of Tutankhamun’s Queen - Stephanie Liaci