I lightly tapped on the Pharaoh's bedchamber door.

"Come in, Rhea," a hoarse, but familiar voice said. I tenderly opened the door to enter, as if any sudden movement would launch the man back into his previous unconscious state.

"You…called for me, sire?"

The king nodded. I was rather surprised to see him sitting upright in his bed. "Yes, dear. Please, close the door behind you. I must speak with you in private."

I closed the door. The Pharaoh held his hand out toward the chair beside his bed.

"Please sit."

I sat. Nervously, I began to wonder why I'd been summoned. Why did the Pharaoh want to speak with me privately? What did he have to say that only I could hear?

As if he was reading my mind, the Pharaoh began, "You must be wondering why I called you in here, why I asked that we speak in such a secluded manner."

"Err, yes, sir."

He didn't answer right away. When he finally did speak, I was surprised by what he said.

"I heard your argument with my son earlier. I apologize for your misfortune. It seems I've misjudged your father for a great many years."

Everyone did, I thought. That was how he'd gotten away with it for so long.

I managed a small, sad smile. "Thank you, sire."

"But…that is not the only thing I wish to speak to you about," he continued. "I want to talk to you…about my son."

"Your…son, sir?" Just the thought of him made my face flush a bit. "What, what about him?"

"I'm well aware that his behavior as of late has not been what it should be," he said. "I promise you, he was not always like this. As a boy, he was incredibly gentle and kind. However, over the years, he has become steadily more distant. Nowadays, he spends most of his time alone. No one knows where he goes when he disappears."

I did.

"We start to worry about him," the king continued. "I start to worry about him."

I remembered the desperate look on the Prince's face at the idea of his father's life being at risk, how terrified he was at the thought of the Pharaoh being hurt. I smiled softly.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Your Highness," I told him. "I'm sure that boy is still in him somewhere."

"Of that, I'm absolutely sure," the king replied. This surprised me.

"Then, what are you so worried about, may I ask?"

"I know the gentle boy he used to be is still buried somewhere deep in his heart. All that's needed is a kind soul who could coax him out." He gazed up at me, his deep grey eyes filled with a tired sadness. "What I'm afraid of, is that the soul will be driven away before that part of him has resurfaced."

It took me a few moments to fully understand what he was saying. "M…M-m-me?" I asked, placing a hand to my chest as a sort of nonverbal confirmation. "Am I the 'kind soul'?"

The old royal nodded. "I believe he feels attracted to you somehow," he said matter-of-factly.

My cheeks heated up again. "A-attracted? Wh-what do you mean?"

"Perhaps attracted isn't the right word. I believe he feels…connected to you."

"How so?" I asked.

"It's because," the Pharaoh answered. "You remind him of his mother."

"His mother?"

"Yes. She was brought into noble status as you were. She was from the Farming District, hired by my father, the previous Pharaoh, in order to tend the palace gardens. Her touch was like magic to the plants. Watching her treat each papyrus reed as if it was a pet or a child was fascinating.

You have the same look in your eyes as she did: thoughtful, caring, loving. I was never much of a disciplinarian. But, she would always know what to do and say whenever he would misbehave. She was strict, but gentle." He laughed to himself. "She would always say how much he acted like me when we were younger."

"What...happened to her?" I asked cautiously. "Unless I've crossed a line…"

The king's smile faded. "She died of malaria a little more than ten years ago. My son was devastated. He wouldn't eat for days. He would just sit by his mother's bedside until the priests took her away to begin her burial."

So this isn't the first time he's had to deal with the grief of losing a parent, I thought. It's no wonder he was having such a hard time. He was only reacting the way he did ten years ago.

"It wasn't long after his mother's death that his behavior began to change. It was hardly noticeable at first. But, over time, his behavior has gotten steadily worse. I don't think his heart ever truly healed from the tragedy. He became bitter and angry toward all those around him, including those who were once his friends.

"However, when you walked into the dining hall that first day, I saw the look in his eyes change. For a mere second, I thought I could see the boy he once was. I must admit that the position of personal guardian was merely a rouse, an official excuse to keep you close to him. I hoped you would be the one to turn him around, to fill in the hole that has kept his heart fractured for so long."

I was touched. To think that the Pharaoh was comparing me to the late Queen, it was an honor I never thought I'd be worthy to receive. To know that the Pharaoh trusted me with his son as much as he did—more so than I'd originally thought—was flattering.

"I'm truly grateful that you feel so strongly, my Pharaoh," I said. "But, are you sure that I am the one who can accomplish the task you are implying?"

The Pharaoh smiled. "Look over there, Rhea," he said, pointing to the wall opposite him. "You see that gold circle hanging on the wall?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Bring it here."

I stood, crossing to the wall, and taking down the object in question. I returned to my chair, holding it carefully in my hands. There wasn't much to it. Just a simple gold-leafed, bronze ring about as big around as my head.

"This was my wife's headband. She bought it in the Market District, having saved up the money for it. She'd had her eye on it for years before she'd made enough to purchase it and make it hers. It was the only thing from her former life as a farm girl that she'd kept once we were married. She simply could not part with it, until she was on her deathbed.

"She gave it to me on her last day, and told me—made me promise—not to get rid of it, not to give it away until I was absolutely certain the receiver was trustworthy enough to have it."

I looked up at him, startled. I very nearly dropped the band; my hands had momentarily gone numb from shock. However, I was able to catch it before it hit the ground.

"Sire…" I choked. "Are you saying…?"

"I want you to have it, Rhea."

"Are, are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life, my dear," he said. "Come here. Let me help you put it on."

I rose, my knees trembling, and stepped toward the dying man. He gently placed the headband over my head, pulling my hair up over it to where it only showed as a gold strip across my forehead. I turned back around so he could see it, and his smile widened. He had tears in his eyes.

"You look beautiful," He whispered. I allowed myself to wrap my arms around his neck in a loving hug.

"Thank you, sire," I said, letting go of him. "I promise I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," he replied warmly. "That is why I've entrusted you with two of my wife's most precious possessions. I know you'll care for them as devotedly as she did."

All of a sudden, the Pharaoh was launched into a frenzied coughing fit. He was wheezing and heaving, and I felt utterly helpless to ease his pain. It lasted several minutes before he was finally able to regain his breath. As he panted, retrieving precious air into his lungs, he sank back down from his sitting position until he was lying on his back with his head on his pillow.

"It seems I will not inhabit this world for much longer," he rasped. "Look after my son for me. Tell him I love him, and that I know he'll be a great pharaoh. Tell him I'm incredibly proud of my son…"

Those were his last words.

My heart sank into my stomach. I felt tears well up in my eyes as my throat closed. He was gone, gone forever. And I was the last person he talked to. I fell to my knees and cried at his bedside for the second time today.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I summoned the courage to dry my tears as best I could. I had to be dignified when I announced that the king had passed. The door creaked open as I rose to my feet.

"Come in," I called, my voice still a little shaky.

"It's me," the Prince said quietly. "I was looking for you, and Mahad told me I could find you here. What did my father want to…?"

It was at this time that he noticed his father's unmoving body.

"Fa…Father?" His voice sounded so small and scared, like he was a little boy again, losing his mother. My eyes dampened once more. Slowly, I turned in his direction, bowing to my knees in respect for the new king.

"Congratulations sire," I said, keeping my eyes focused on his feet as I spoke. "You are the new Pharaoh."

He didn't speak for a while. I was afraid he'd fainted or left. I glanced up at him. He was frozen, with a mix of horror and despair painted across his face.

When he finally found his voice, I heard him whisper, "No. No." His voice grew louder. "No no no!" He ran to his father's side. "Father! Please, speak to me. Say something. Anything!"

I couldn't take it, seeing him like this. The tears and grief I had forced down returned to the surface and spilled down my cheeks in salty streams.

"I'm so sorry sir. But, he's gone. He's been dead for almost ten minutes"

"No. He can't be gone." The boy turned to face me, ready to fight me tooth and nail that his denial was the truth. "He can't be…" He paused, his face changing as he noticed me.

"What is that on your head?" he asked quietly, his tone suddenly darkening. Instinctively, I brought my hand to my forehead. I felt the touch of the gold headband. I realized how bad it must look from his side. My muscles suddenly tensed at the apparent threat of the new Pharaoh's wrath.

"I know what this must look like," I began.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, practically growling. His expression was dangerous. He took a step toward me.

"I promise you, sire, I did nothing—" I took a step back.

"Did my father say you could have that?" He took a couple more steps forward.

"Uhh, well actually, he—" I continued backing away.

"My father hasn't been dead ten minutes, and you're already going through his personal belongings?" He raised his voice at me. I could tell that no argument I had was going to make a difference.

"Sir, you don't understand—" My voice began to grow panicky. I could tell where this was going, and I didn't like it.

"You little thief! You have no right to go digging through my father's things as if they were yours!" He was still coming toward me. He was now within arm's reach.

"I'm sorry, sir! Please, just let me explain—"

He roughly seized my upper arm in his iron grip. His crimson eyes swirled with rage.

"My father allowed you to stay here, eat our food, and live in luxury."

I tried pulling my arm from his grip. It only tightened. Tears of fear welled up in my eyes and terror struck my heart.

"Please," I pleaded. "You're hurting me."

He kept his lecture as if I hadn't "He gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, and this is how you repay him? By taking his possessions after he dies? What else have you taken?"

"Nothing. I swear."

"Liar! That can't have been the only thing—"

"JUST TAKE IT!" I screamed, my knees buckling beneath me. My heart had shot up to my throat; tears streaming down my face. "Just take it! I don't want it. I didn't want it in the first place! Your father gave it to me, but I don't want it." My voice lowered to a breathy whisper. "Please. Just take it."

His vise-like grip on my arm loosened, and he eventually he let go of me. I ripped the band off my head and shoved it at him before bringing to my hands to my face, weeping into my palms.

"Go."

I looked back up at him in confusion. He wasn't looking at me, but he was addressing me. Of that I was sure.

"Get out. Leave. I don't want you coming back here. Just get your things and get out."

I needed no further insistence. I stood up and, with as much dignity I had left (which wasn't very much)—I turned around and left the room. I made sure to round the corner before running off with my face in my hands once more.

Atem watched Rhea leave, turning his mother's headband over and over in his hands. What right did she think she had to take his mother's things? She couldn't possibly have any idea the level of significance it held. And to think, she thought she could actually get away with claiming that his father had given it to her! His father was more protective of this headband than Atem was, and that was saying something. He would never part with it so recklessly. What could she have been thinking, trying to use such a pathetic excuse? Surely, she would have realized that such an attempt would fail at least as miserably as it did.

And yet, part of him wanted to believe her. His father had started taking a liking to her recently. It wasn't hard to trust her. And, as far as he could tell, she'd never lied to him before now.

Of course, he supposed that was the trickiest parts about crooks like her. You could never tell what their plan was until it had been carried out.

But why the headband? There were plenty of things all around the room that were worth much more fiscally than this old thing, he thought. Why head straight for one of the least valuable things in the room?

She couldn't possibly be telling the truth…but what if she hadn't exactly been lying either?

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Thanks so much to all of you who posted your ideas. They were a HUGE help. I hope you liked this chapter. I've got much better ones coming up really soon. There's lots and lots of drama in these next couple of chapters. Will Atem learn that his assumption was wrong, that she isn't a thief? If so, will Rhea be able to forgive him enough to come back? Find this out next week. Till then, fave and review, plz. Luvs all y'all! :D