Day Three – Part Three

Kiya rode through the desert across the same path Bakura had traveled earlier, and unbeknownst to her, Marik followed some distance behind. Her hands clutched the reigns with as much strength as her trembling hands could muster. She had never been a confident rider but it's surprising what your body can do under duress. The dark of the desert faded as the light of the city emerged in the distance. The palace stood where it always had, prominent at the head of the metropolis. It looked smaller than she remembered, almost trivial to one whose life has passed before their eyes. Coming into the main streets Kiya didn't slow her pace. In fact, she shook the reigns to encourage the horse to go faster. Having recognized her, a few citizens whispered to one another as she passed, and Kiya wondered how much they really knew. It wouldn't have been surprising for the Guardians to keep her disappearance a secret. They wouldn't wish to reveal the shortcomings of their leadership, it would surely only cause panic in an already unstable environment.

Marik fell off her trail, not wanting to follow her through the center of the city. Directing his horse, he continued around the outskirts of the city. His route was longer but he didn't care. Her arrival would surely cause a commotion, making it that much easier for him to sneak in unnoticed.

A sigh escaped Kiya's lips as the palace gates came into view. The guards on duty corrected their posture and drew their weapons seeing a shadowy figure approaching at full speed.

"Halt!" the head guard yelled, holding his hand out. "Who goes there?"

The others formed a line beside him, creating a barricade to stop the intruder. Kiya pulled on the reigns to slow the horse and then stopped only a few feet away. When she tried to lower herself from the horse she realized her legs were unresponsive and she fell to the ground in a heavy thud.

"Good Gods," a guard whispered and ran to her aid.

Kiya tried to move but the ability was denied. She tried to talk, to explain what had happened, but she could voice nothing more than a soft stammer. The guard knelt down in front of her, but because of her stature he was hesitant to touch her. He studied her face. It was dirty, swollen and bruised, but he could tell who she was. Her grey eyes were glazed with tears upon the realization she had made it. She was home.

"Summon the High Priest," the guard cried. "Tell him his wife has returned!"

The other guards looked at each other, not quite believing what they were hearing.

"Go, now!" he yelled again.

Set had been lying on his bed for the past half hour. The Millennium Rod rested on his chest, heavy, like the burden it was. Closing his eyes once again, he relaxed his muscles, hoping to meet the sleep that had so far refused to visit. Plagued with guilt, memories of Kiya, once forgotten, flooded back with a vengeance. His favorite was their wedding day. He had been so nervous but as soon as he saw her all his worries seemed to leave. He could remember so clearly the way she walked down the aisle, light and breezy, as if she were floating on air. She was dressed in a traditional Egyptian gown; white, decorated with skillful needlework patterns than ran from the top to the bottom. The dress was long, so long that the material dragged on the floor behind her. A shawl covered her entire face except for her eyes. It was embellished with gold sequins and beads that hung above her forehead. Adorning her body was more gold; collars and bracelets each containing more precious stones. When she stood in front of him her eyes held so much hope for the future. He took her hands in his and admired the intricate henna that had been decorated on her the evening before. She smiled at him as he promised to love and care for her as long as they both should live. A promise, too soon broken.

A savage beating on his door dissolved the memory. Cursing Set stood, ready to throttle whoever dared disturb him at this hour. Opening his door he came face to face with a young, nervous guard.

"I'm sorry to disturb you High Priest," he bowed as low as he could.

"Spit it out," Set ordered.

"It-it's y-your wife," he stuttered. "She's returned."

...

Marik tied his horse to a tree and climbed over the palace wall without being seen. As he had predicted, Kiya's return had created the ideal distraction. He walked casually through the gardens pondering the best way to get up to the High Priest's room. Bakura's decision to release the girl was still a mystery to Marik. Thinking about it, Bakura wouldn't have let her go if he thought she would reveal the location of their hideout. But then why was he here? For whatever reason, Bakura wanted to know what she said about him. Or perhaps, Marik thought, he just wanted to make sure she was safe.

Set hadn't realized he'd been running until found himself catching his breath at the front of the palace. The guards had gotten Kiya through the gates but she had refused their help any further.

"Kiya!" Set called when he saw her.

On seeing her husband Kiya was struck by mixed emotions. She had thought the sight of him would leave her repulsed but a part of her craved his stability.

"Leave us," Set ordered the guards.

They were reluctant to but no one dared defy his order. Set crouched down and cradled his wife's face. It was really her. She was alive, but how?

"I managed to escape," she said, as if reading his mind.

Set was taken aback by her words. She was a delicate woman, not one he imagined could hold her own in a fight, nor one capable of outsmarting the thief. Regardless, it was not the time to ask questions and Set took her in his arms and carried her inside.

Marik made it to the High Priest's quarters before they returned. Resisting the urge to pick up some souvenirs he stepped out onto the balcony, hidden from view but still within earshot.

There he waited.

The palace was abuzz with the news of her return but Kiya heard none of it as Set took her straight to their room and lay her on the bed. A healer was called to look her over but she protested profusely, saying she was fine and that all she needed to do was rest. Being unable to convince his wife otherwise Set dismissed the healer, and once they were alone he approached the subject Kiya was expecting.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

Kiya had played this conversation over in her mind on her journey home yet she was confident no matter what she said he'd doubt her honesty.

"I was locked in a dungeon," she began, fiddling anxiously with her hands. Set watched her from beside the bed. His eyes were tired but confronting. Not wishing to see his eyes upon her, Kiya got up and walked across the room, turning her back on her husband; it was easier to lie to him that way. "I knew Bakura had left to meet you, it was late and one of his men came to bring me food. He opened the cell door and I knew this was my only chance to escape. I took the clip from my hair," she turned around and looked at him. "The green butterfly one you gave me-"

Set nodded remembering the item she spoke of. It was a golden piece, with two long spikes used to twist the hair into a bun. A convenient weapon.

Kiya continued. "Well, the man knelt to place the food in front of me and when his head was down I stabbed him with my clip... as hard as I could in his neck. He stumbled. I didn't kill him, I'm sure of it, but I was able to push past him and escape the dungeon."

"And you didn't run into anyone on your way out?" Set queried.

"No, Bakura hadn't returned so the place was empty."

Set nodded again. "Can you remember where this place is?"

Kiya shook her head. "No it was too dark, and I can barely remember anything of the ride home other than the sheer terror I felt that someone would catch me."

"Where did you get the horse?" Set asked.

"It was tied out the front of the building."

"Fully saddled?"

Kiya could head the doubt in his voice. "Yes," she said. "The gods were watching over me. I am truly blessed."

Marik, who was still listening in on the conversation, had to stifle a laugh. He had to admit this girl was a good liar.

Kiya brought a hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair. "Set, I am so very tired. Could we possibly continue this conversation in the morning?"

"Of course," he said.

When she turned around again it was only then that he noticed her clothing. How hadn't he seen it before? Her jewellery had gone -that was to be expected- but she was not in her usual attire. Instead she sported a simple cream dress cut short over her knee.

"Kiya?"

"Yes, Set."

"What happened to your clothes?"

"Bakura gave me this dress and told me to change," she said without a falter in her voice. "I think he must have wanted to sell the material from my other one."

"I see." Set moved forward to examine the dress. On closer inspection he noticed it was dirty but there was not a speck of blood on it, nor on her hands. Had she stabbed this man like she said, surely there would be more evidence.

Kiya tried to move away from him but Set grabbed her by her wrist. "Let me look at you," he said.

Cupping her face with his other hand Set's thumb caressing her bruised cheek. He saw her flinch, the pain as real as the memory. His hands traveled down to her neck to where the same dark marks appeared. However, here there were four bruises on the right and a shorter one on the left. The thief's hand print. Had he tried to choke her? Kiya's heart-rate picked up from the way Set was looking at her. Set could feel her blood pumping beneath his fingers when another memory flashed before him, this one more recent.

'Three days," Bakura said. "Then we will speak again. In the meantime your wife can warm my bed.'

Without realizing Set's grip tightened around her neck.

"Set…" Kiya groaned, trying to free herself from his grasp. "You're hurting me."

His hand withdrew from her neck but he didn't let go of her wrist.

"Did he rape you?" Set asked.

For the first time that evening, Kiya told the truth. "No, he didn't."

Set's eyes narrowed. His wife's usually readable face was now cold and impassive. A trick she had learned from the thief perhaps, or the sign of a lie? He wasn't sure but he intended to find out. Pulling her dress up Set moved his hand between her legs.

"Do not move," Set growled as she tried to pull away.

Kiya stopped squirming and obeyed her husband, wincing as he shoved two fingers inside of her. Averting his gaze she stared blankly at the wall. His fingers moved around for a moment and when he finally removed them he rubbed them against his thumb. Looking back at him, Kiya could see what coated his fingers; the evidence of her crime.

Set slapped her harder than he intended. A burning consumed her cheek but she did not cry. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

"Is that why you are here?" he interrogated. "Did you trade your body for your freedom?"

"What does it matter to you?" she spat.

Set shook his finger in her face like he was telling off a disobedient child. "It matters because you are my wife!"

"You mean I'm your property," she retorted.

Set looked at her with disgust. "How dare you speak to me like that?"

Kiya finally managed to free herself from his grip. "I will speak to you however I please. You left me to die!"

Set's hand caressed the gold against his hip. "Your life was not worth jeopardizing the safety of Egypt!"

No amount of abuse Kiya had suffered from Bakura hurt her as much as that did.

"What is it worth then, huh?"

Set had no answer for her.

"Huh?" she coaxed.

Set walked to the door and Kiya knew exactly where he was going to go.

"Bakura told me the Pharaoh destroyed his village," she blurted out.

Set's hand stopped on the door handle. 'Of course he did,' he thought.

"He said that the souls of his family were used to make the Millennium Items," Kiya continued. "Tell me that's not true."

"You're out of line, Kiya," Set growled.

"Then tell me he's mistaken!" she screamed.

"The only mistake," Set snapped. "Was that the Pharaoh's army did not burn him with the others!"

Kiya's hand covered her mouth to suppress her gasp. Bakura had been telling the truth all along, which meant everything she had ever known was a lie.

Set opened the door but before he left he turned back to her. "We will discuss your adultery in the morning. In the meantime, clean yourself up, you look and smell like a whore."