Fever dreams and late nights. Incense and low torchlight. Hard muscle on silk sheets.

I had spent so long cooped up in the kings' rooms they now seemed more familiar to me than my own. Not that my own were all that familiar to begin with. When had it all gotten so normal? The guards had lost their intimidation, the palace its sense of mystery, even the shock of time had all but faded away. It no longer felt like a fantastic dream, but a nightmare.

It was never-ending, a slow sort of torture. And it was my new reality. Our new reality.

Luckily, I was not given much time to ponder my situation. There were other things to think about, other people to worry about; without the medicines I was used to having access to, nursing Memphis back to health was all guesswork after giving him the initial cure. I was stumbling around in the dark again.

For the first few days, he had hardly been conscious. After a week, I was starting to wish he had stayed that way. Two and I would have gone out and caught another snake myself. But Minue was insistent and dedicated, sweeping in just when I had begun to contemplate regicide. Not for the first time I wondered what Memphis had done to garner such loyalty. Minue was far too good for him.

And still; save him. Save him. I had racked my brain under the pressure, trying to remember everything we had done for Carol after her attack; all the foods we had had her eat, the amount of rest she had needed to get, all the teas our mother had made her choke down. I wasn't willing to use any more of the actual anti-toxin; the number of snakes I'd seen recently had me clutching it to my chest in a desperate fit of self-preservation. I would have to consider more alternative options.

At my insistence, they opened the palace library for me, and I spent hours poring over what they did have in regard to natural remedies. I tried quite of few of the ones I recognized, and there was a certain amount of joy that came from testing them and telling a man who was unused to being told what to do, well, what to do.

Memphis obeyed all my orders with a certain amount of petulance, dragging it out with his dark eyes and lingering hands, yet there was something else underneath that. It made my heart beat faster and my palms sweat. How was I supposed to handle this? Feel about it?

I wouldn't deny that I enjoyed the attention to an extent. The same extent that any woman would enjoy a powerful and attractive man's attention. A dangerous man. And still, I needed to make up my mind. Or so Carol told me. I had agreed if only to appease her and found the matter heavy on my shoulders. Irritancy came to me quickly at the thought of him, anger next, hopelessness, a healthy amount of fear…there were just so many things I needed to sort through. And after days of the other servants whispering behind hands and in darkened doorways I finally decided; it was a sensation I was distinctly uncomfortable with. Yes, uncomfortable. That I could be. Unemotional. Unattached. That I could handle.

I didn't think I could handle it for long.

But he was quick to smile, those strange feelings fading into the background at his smug grin. And if he looked at me in a way he hadn't before, if he caught my hand in his when I checked for a fever and held it…well, I pretended not to notice. Not to care. If his orders kept me close and he demanded my time. I wasn't in a position where I could refuse.

God help me, but I was only human.

It didn't matter – shouldn't matter – that he was so different now, where he was so vulnerable and dependent on me. That there were moments he made me laugh with his surprisingly sharp wit. That once he found out I could read, that he asked me to read to him as often as he could manage to get the words out. It didn't matter that I loved that he asked, not demanded, but asked with a hopeful look and a hand outstretched like he wanted to meet me in the middle.

Which was something I never thought he would do.

Then there were the moments he was half asleep and his words slurred, just a bit. Please, just one. He'd point to his bedside table where there were piles of parchment. Everything from harvest reports to actual stories. He would pat a spot beside him on the bed, sitting up to laugh at the hesitant look on my face while I stuttered a no. You make it seem more interesting. He said it with a smile, and he was oh so charming. So, I'd give when while he fought to stay awake, and in the silence of the room there was no one else to see me run my hands through his hair and sigh.

I told myself it was because he was so handsome, and I was spending so much time with him. The weight of his gaze was starting to feel less like I was an object he already owned and more like a person he wanted to possess.

I was thankful for small mercies.

And I liked feeling needed. Was that really so terrible? The Lidos had never needed me. It had been the other way around. I was a constant damsel in distress, a charity case. And he was just so different from the man that had tossed to the floor that first day, all of his demands almost endearing. The cruel boy I had first been faced with seemed nothing but a nightmare after weeks of charm.

But just because I wasn't facing the brunt of his darker characteristics didn't mean somebody else wasn't. What did it say about me that I was willing to pretend I didn't notice that either?

I should have been honored by his favoritism.

"Evelyn." He called to me from across the room, a slow drawl that was only slightly tinted with impatience. I had been admiring a wall covered with bright paintings and hieroglyphs. It was his family history, detailing his divine right to rule. My heart stuttered even as I rolled my eyes at the arrogance on display. It was captivating despite all that. I traced over the paints with reverence. The sun. The painted faces.

"Water." He broke me from my musing with his demands and I had to restrain myself from throwing something at him; the pitcher and chalice were right next to his bed.

I moved slowly at his second order, taking my time, and I grinned as he growled. Antagonizing him was just too entertaining. As long as I didn't push him too far. I was always careful to just toe at the edge. Maybe push a rock or two over to see where they'd land. Ever so recklessly careful.

He held onto my wrist as I tried to hand him the cup, calloused fingers wrapping around my own and keeping me there, pressed against the metal as he drank. Heat rushed to my face at the look on his face, the feeling almost unbearable in the already stuffy room. His grip was strong, and my hand was completely dwarfed by his own. Small and delicate in comparison. It surprised me, intimidated me, and I made to pry it free, but he only pulled me back down again with a smug smile in place. Like he knew what I was thinking.

"Sit with me for a while," he said and placed the hand that had been holding mine on the bed beside him, patting it twice. For a moment, I thought he wasn't serious, that all I would have to do was move to the chair I had been sitting in for the past week, pick up one of the rolled scrolls and try to ignore the way his eyes settled on my lips until he fell asleep. That was supposed to be the worst of it. I wanted it to be. The other worst-case scenarios I wasn't un-naive enough to not think weren't worth thinking about.

Now my head hurt.

I watched his previous smile twist into a frown, and then a scowl at my reluctance. An expression I was all too used to seeing him wear. His hand found mine again while I was distracted, and this time it was harsh and controlling where before it had been gentle and teasing. I flinched, leaning back instinctively at the look in his eyes. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to his quick temper. He was surprisingly strong for someone recovering from a poisoning, and I fell onto rich silk and fine linens when he all but pulled me into his lap. "I said sit."

I glared as he put his arms around my shoulders and hissed as one of his hands ran down my arm to stroke at my wrist, "I heard you." I shifted against his hold, aware now more than ever of the fact that his chest was bare, pressing against my back once I was settled between his thighs.

He was cold. Or maybe I was the one that was cold. I certainly felt frozen sitting there. I could feel his breath ghost over the curve of my shoulder, ruffling my hair as he sighed. The edge of his nose on my pulse.

It wasn't fair, how easily he could make my heart stutter. It really wasn't.

I knew it was a bad idea, playing with fire in a way. But passive aggressive acts of defiance? How could I resist? I moved just a bit, pressing into his embrace just enough, as I tilted my head to rest against his shoulder. By the time I had managed to turn myself enough to face him he was so tense I thought his jaw might crack under the strain. Maybe it had. I fought a grin and went to tug at a loose strand of hair hanging over his arm. He had leaned forward, closer than I had previously thought, shadows cast over his face. I didn't have to fight that grin anymore. It had disappeared.

He looked like he might laugh, but there was anger in his gaze too. Such sudden immediate anger. Perhaps because I was bold enough to tease him. But after a few minutes under his stare reality set in. Not bold. Impulsive.

It wasn't a bad idea, it was a terrible idea.

I could feel the panic beginning to set in. This wasn't a regular boy like the ones I was used too. I couldn't go running to Ryan when I pushed the game too far. Standing up and moving away seemed the best option, so I tried. And I must have gone too far because I couldn't.

Stand up that is. His arms were like steel, locked around me and I suddenly wasn't in the mood to play into one of his tantrums. I wasn't. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was me. I wasn't the one clearly lacking self-control.

We held each other's gaze for a while. Light against dark. I looked away first. Because as much as I hated it – loathed it – I knew enough to know my place.

And then there was noise from outside the doors – the heavy sound of guards in armor. That usually meant Isis, and recently she had become my most convenient escape route, preferring not to have me in the room while she spent time with her brother. I stood while he was distracted, his hand still on my arm, and in his current state he couldn't follow me as I moved to the door and waited there. His eyes were wide, and I watched him frantically try and adjust the blankets around his waist.

The door swung open, a step away from hitting me where I stood in shadow. They wouldn't look at me, even though they knew I was there. But then they never did unless it was when they were telling me to leave. It took tremendous effort not to fidget while I watched the door; I had to stay until Isis dismissed me – my earlier runout had not gone by without reprimand. There had been more than one occasion where I had been made to wait for hours before being allowed to go. Something I was still bitter about.

Memphis sighed and swung his legs off the bed, eyes still on me and a hand outstretched, "Come back here." But I shook my head as they stepped into the room. His sister and her guards.

Isis's heated glare was only on me for a moment before turning her suddenly loving countenance to Memphis again. The guards stared for an uncomfortable moment longer. The neckline of my dress had been pulled down and a breeze brushed against my bare skin, making me shiver. Memphis had grabbed at my dress, I realized, trying to pull me back. A blush emerged, and I could feel the heat radiating from my face. I tugged at the hem frantically. I was absolutely mortified. Eventually, Isis noticed that I was still there – the fact that her brothers' eyes were fixed on me over her shoulder a pretty clear indication he wasn't paying her any attention – and even the frigid chill she emanated wasn't enough to cool my blush. At her nod, I left at all but a run, slipping out before Memphis could say a word to stop me.

I didn't want to stay in there anyway. They had taken to fighting so often that standing too close to them could result in serious injury. Even breathing the air around them could prove toxic.

It was all because they had canceled the wedding in the wake of his injury and the disappearance of the Hittite princess. Among other things. The news that maybe they wouldn't be such a great couple after all was apparently shocking. Isis had been screaming so loudly the entire palace had heard her and avoided her as a result. I could feel her eyes on me, all the time, following me when I wasn't at her brothers' bedside. Her anger worried me; she wasn't the type to sit quietly. I knew she was planning something. And I hated waiting for it. It made me jumpy, paranoid.

I was afraid.

xXx

In the quiet – or rather tense – time that followed, I convinced Minue that having Carol help me with the pharaoh's recovery was in everyone's best interest. And I was beyond thankful that he didn't know me well enough to know I was lying. Convincing him hadn't been hard; we had the same background, and she could step in if I was somewhere else. Which at this point, that was all I wanted to be.

Somewhere else. Anywhere. I'd have taken the dungeons if it got me any peace. He had fully recovered now anyway. Moaning and groaning for no one's benefit but his own. I told myself he just liked the attention. After all, he had commandeered mine for more than three weeks. I had the feeling he would try to keep it that way as long as he could.

And I missed my sister. They had kept us apart initially, placing me in the kitchens and her somewhere else, cleaning I assumed. Her hands were red, cracked and bleeding from scrubbing floors. So, it wasn't much of an assumption. She cried when she saw me, hugging me so tight I thought my ribs would crack. I wheezed and struggled, managing to free my arms and pat her on the back a bit awkwardly.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered into my hair. She was shaking, and her hands were cold where they pressed against my back. "I've heard stories from some of the others."

"What do you mean?" I knew what she was talking about, but I was also all too aware of the pharaohs guards watching us from a few feet behind, slowly moving closer. But she was speaking too low and too quickly for them to catch despite the clear effort they were putting into eavesdropping.

"He's cruel and demanding. Quick to lash out, to hurt people…I don't want you in there with him."

I wanted to pull back and deny it, to grin and tell her he wasn't all that bad. That he made my heart stutter, just a tiny tiny bit. I wanted to giggle and sigh and gossip because wasn't it just bordering on exciting. Wasn't it just? Nothing like this ever happened to me. Rodney always told me I was too serious, too cold, too defiant to ever attract a member of the opposite sex. And even though I would laugh and grab his arm to tell him that"he shouldn't worry, he's the only guy I'd ever be interested in" and he would fake a gag and smile… it still hurt. And there were quiet tearful moments that I would never admit to where I wondered if he was right.

And now, right now, there was a powerful handsome terrible man that was interested in me. I couldn't have stopped that fluttery feeling if I tried. But telling Carol all of this seemed impossible. She wouldn't understand, wouldn't care or try to. I held back a snort; her only experience with men so far had been Jimmy. Sweet, obvious, oblivious Jimmy. She wanted that for me too, maybe even expected it.

A man our parents would approve of. Well-mannered with a nine to five job and a superiority complex. Memphis only had one of those things. I pulled back with a strained smile and whispered, "I don't have a choice," – whether I was speaking of having to spend time with him or that I was beginning to like him… well that was for me to know and her to never find out – then said louder, "I'm glad you here. Let's take a walk."

I led her out into the palace grounds, a carefully kept courtyard right outside the pharaohs rooms. It was the only one I was now allowed into, one where he could see me. It was beautiful for all its confinement; spacious, full of light, with a large pool that drew water from the Nile.

It was full of flowers.

"You look nice," she commented, taking some of the fabric of my dress into her fingers, "like at the banquet." It was true, the boxy dark dress I had worn to bake bread had been replaced with lighter flowing fabrics. Covered in gold to match my hair. Dressed up again as a doll with something new every day. Isis had hated it. Sneering at me. This doesn't change what you are. She had hissed it at me while Memphis smiled, because didn't she like the dress he could have one like mine made for her too.

He was such a stupid boy. I hated knowing that I might pay for his ignorance.

How long had we been here? I didn't know, but Carol's hair was longer now, past her shoulders.

"You do too." I ran my hands through it, and she sighed, leaning on my shoulder. I had taken off my sandals, placing my feet into the water to soothe the blisters and reached down to pluck one of the lotuses nearby. She hummed, taking it from me to look at the petals.

"Not in the same way." She almost sounded jealous. But that was ridiculous, the type of attention I was receiving from Memphis was dangerous. He was used to getting what he wanted with little concern for anyone else. That included me.

And then there was his rather unpleasant add-on. Isis shadowed his every move, every decision. She clung to him and his apathy to her devotion was almost hard to watch. Isis was influential and cold, as a high priestess the amount of power she had as a religious figure in lower Egypt was great, greater than I was comfortable with. The shift in power between her and her brother could tear Egypt apart should their relationship sour futher.

Their eyes on me were a brand.

Carol sighed again. She sounded frustrated, "You saved his life, you gave him the medicine Ryan gave us and you shouldn't have. Everyone is talking about it. Advisers, officials, soldiers, scribes, the nobility and slaves alike." her voice twisted into something bitter, almost angry, "About how great you are, how…how beautiful; a gift from the Nile. You've been with him every day, so you probably haven't heard. Too busy playing house to care, huh?"

I turned, whether to scold her or defend myself against her oh so sudden accusations I didn't know, "It was the right thing to do, you're forgetting that he is the only thing standing between us and Isis. That table and her shiny dagger, or don't you remember?" I paused, suddenly serious, "You would have saved him, if it had been you."

"No!" she spat back, "I would not have, and I think it's you who's forgetting. He still has Sechi – the boy that saved our lives – down in his dungeons and bleeding on his orders. When was that last time you thought about him, or Sephora, or me?"

I scoffed, "I am always thinking of you!" I didn't bother to hide the hurt in my voice, or the resentment. "Don't put yourself up on the high road just yet. Neither of us can do anything concrete without risking our lives, and then what would he do? What have you done? Found a way home yet? Secretly freed Sechi and sent him home? I've already asked Memphis to stop hurting Sechi, and he agreed. As far as I know, he has kept his word."

She growled and rolled her eyes, "As far as you know. I don't believe him."

"Oh please, has it ever occurred to you that while Sechi is here, he is not out there. No working, no toiling out under the desert sun. Three meals a day and water. His situation could be a lot worse. He could be dead, but he isn't and despite what you believe I have every intention of keeping him that way." I took the lotus back, irrationally angry over the way she was bruising the petals with her tight grip. I looked at it while I spoke, not wanting to see the expression I knew would be clear on her face.

She wanted to yell at me, I could tell. She wanted to sneer at me with her usual amount superiority. So much better than me, always better than me.

Never forget where you come from.

The irony was that that was all I wanted to do.

We would have continued to argue over my apparent lapse in judgment. We'd had similar arguments before. But suddenly Memphis was there, helping me up, standing between us.

He wrapped an arm around me and I didn't miss the look she sent me at his almost absentminded motion. With an air of absolute confidence, he took the bloom from me to tuck it into my hair and leaned back a bit to study it with soft sort of look in his eyes. And then his attention shifted, and he turned me bodily to face the Nile. For a moment I was worried he had heard us, and this was one of those times he hid dark anger under false cheer. But my concerns were soon proved unnecessary.

The courtyard had filled up while we'd been distracted, the sound of loud and excited voices hiding our own. I was grateful; that meant he hadn't heard what – or rather who – we had been fighting about.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear and I could feel his smile, "One of my ministers, Imhotep." He pointed to his private harbor, where a great number of riverboats were pulling in, looking heavy and travel-worn. "He brings gifts for me, pharaoh of Egypt, from Syria, Palestine and Libya." Still with his arm around me, he motioned for Carol to follow – not looking to see if she did – and began heading back into the palace, to the same place the banquet had been held the first night he had brought us here. Apparently, it was the only space big enough to house the current reception. The shade was a welcome relief after being out in the sun, and I sighed in contentment at the change.

"And for you."

I looked at him, startled by his sudden proclamation and thoroughly confused. He smiled again. All boyish charm.

"Gifts... for you. You may choose a gift."

I was too surprised to say anything. We were inside the hall now anyway, and there were rows upon rows of people. Bent and sunburned, bowing under the weight of the things they carried. Holding jewels, fabrics, spices, oil, gold and silver. Memphis directed me to stand behind his chair as his minister, a tall and stately man, listed his tribute; proof of Egypt's reach and power as an empire. Wealth beyond even my own wildest dreams.

They spoke for a while, long enough for me to get tired of standing and begin to shift impatiently as my feet started to ache. They mentioned Isis, and I learned that the sense of peace the palace had recently settled into was due to her prolonged absence in her shrine. A number of days south down the Nile, he had passed her barge on his way here. And the temple, a great ostentatious building made of shining stone.

I shivered as I remembered my own previous visit to one of her places of worship. It was cold now after standing still in the shade for so long, the thin slit sleeves of my dress suddenly seeming terribly impractical and I had taken to rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm myself.

The sudden appearance of Memphis's hand on my own was warm and I jumped, startled at the unexpected feel of his touch. His mouth was twisted in a way that made me think he was equal parts irritated and amused. He had clearly tried to call my name, and at my lack of response had proceeded to gather my attention by slipping a hand into my own. It felt rather… well rather personal. We were surrounded by people. His subjects. I fought off the urge to blush.

He was holding a necklace in his other hand, "Sapphires, for your eyes." He explained proudly. His hand slid to my shoulder, pushing my hair to the side as he made to clasp the stones around my neck.

I pulled back at the touch of cold metal on the delicate skin of my throat, uncomfortable with the lavish gift and watched as his face changed, on the verge of becoming something shadowed and dark.

"You said I could choose." I reminded him quickly, before he could think I was refusing. I was relieved beyond measure to see his brow even out and his eyes soften a moment later. He gave a small nod and pulled back to recline against the back of his chair, the necklace still tightly held in his grip.

He waved his hand to the pile of riches before us, and my gaze was drawn once again to the glittering piles of gold and silver, "I did. Your wish is my command." He assured me, "Tell me what it is you desire, and you shall have it." And in the silence after even Imhotep turned to hear my answer.

"A sword," I said slowly, after much thought, and ignoring both of their shocked looks I held up a hand as I continued, "for His Majesty and His Majesty's army. Troubled times are ahead, Egypt's continued prosperity is all I truly wish for. "

Absolute silence.

Then the minister laughed, giving me a delighted look, "Minue was right. Smart girl." I almost frowned at the sheer surprise in his voice. It could almost be considered astonishment. He reached out to brush at my hair and pulled a golden curl between two fingers, "I assume you have previously heard whispers, foreign whispers."

I hummed, "In a manner of speaking."

Imhotep faced his king, and the laughter was still there in his voice, "Will you grant the lady's request?"

Memphis, who had been watching our exchange with a strange sort of look on his face, caught my hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back. Without breaking his gaze from mine he finally managed to settle the necklace around my throat. It sat cradled above my collar bone as though it had been made just for me. Maybe it had. A perfect fit. "She shall have both."

xXx

Evie was wrong.

Carol wiped tears from her eyes and sniffled, clutching the blanket she was using to hide her face tighter around her head. She was going to do something. And it wasn't going to be just asking for the whipping to stop. She'd break Sechi out of the dungeons and find a way home, even if Evie wasn't going to help her. She thought of her mother, and her brothers. If she could find a way to go back home, she would, even if it meant going alone, and then she would find some way to get Evie. She would. It was just that…

She wanted to go home. So badly.

And it was like her sister didn't care. She was so caught up in the history, the culture, the pharaoh. It was like she couldn't see anything else. Carol had seen Evie standing by him, she saw the way he looked at her; like he didn't want to let her go. They'd been sitting back in his rooms. Evie, the pharaoh, the general and the man that had shown up today, laughing over the wine her sister served from a silver pitcher. Evie's hand had been on the back of the pharaohs chair. Every few minutes he would turn to hold out his glass. Their fingers would brush together, eyes would linger. The common enough gesture seemed so…so personal, almost intimate.

It was all happening so fast. They had only been here, in the palace, for a month…maybe a little more, she didn't know. The days had started to blur together. Which was why she needed to escape. She slipped through the courtyard Evie had taken her to earlier, suddenly grateful for all the wine the men had been drinking. They were less than diligent. She thought she had felt her sisters' eyes on her, just for a moment, but when she looked back she couldn't see her, and the feeling passed. Just a couple more turns and she'd be there.

General Minue had placed guards outside the dungeon entrance after the first time they had snuck in, but everyone was celebrating. Drinking. Even with her hands shaking it was unbelievably easy to steal the keys to Sechi's cell. The stairs were as dark as she remembered, the hallway of cells just as depressing.

He looked better than before. There was less pain; the lines around his eyes had smoothed out and his mouth was less pinched. And when Carol unlocked the door he looked at her with stars in his eyes and told her he would follow her anywhere. He didn't ask where Evie was, or how she had gotten the keys, not even why it had taken her so long to free him. If they got far enough away none of that would matter.

She held his hand. "There should be boats down by the river."

There was a moment. Fast and fleeting and powerful. She wasn't a damsel in distress like her brothers insisted she should be. She wasn't a child who was young and reckless as Evie claimed. No. Here she was, having sprung her friend from prison, hiding under a tattered blanket and ready to face whatever came after. She took one step, and another, feeling as though they were actually going to make it.

Or perhaps it was more that they would have made it. All the way down to the muddy bank, into a wooden boat and down the river before anyone would even think to look for them. But Carol was under the impression the universe was out to get her, to punish her with an unending case of terrible rotten no good bad luck – probably for opening the tomb in the first place – and as a small withered hand closed around her shoulder she let out a girlish shriek her sister would never let her live down.

That same hand turned her around, "I'm sorry, Carol." The generals' mother; Nefertari. The woman looked sad and determined, her mouth set in a firm line. Carol thought she had never seemed so old. A tug, "I won't let you run away." Carols hood fell, and at the sudden shove Sechi tried to swoop in. He stepped forward, bruised and indignant and noble.

"Let go of her!"

He made to move towards them, only to be restrained by a man Carol didn't recognize. It took so little effort to hold him back and Sechi watched with a painful sort of hopelessness as Carol tried to break free from the older woman's hold, to no avail.

Nefertari tried to console her, "Don't be foolish Carol. This is for your own good! Even if you had managed to get away, you would have been caught eventually. Our Pharaoh is not the sort of man to let his things go, and if he discovers what you have tried to do, if you had actually accomplished your endeavor… do you know how severe the punishment would have been?" An arm wrapped around Carol's waist, less of a restraint and more of a lead. "If not for your own sake then for your sisters'. She has worked far too hard for you to throw away the favor she has earned on a whim."

Carol gave up on her struggles, shoulders sinking as she let her head fall into her hands. "Please," She moaned, "I just want to home."

But Nefertari just shook her head, gaze solid and unyielding against Carol's sorrow. "I won't let you ruin this. You don't understand… but I've seen it, my son has seen it. Memphis… he's changing for the better, and it's all because of your sister." Sechi still fought, and with a sigh of frustration she ordered the man holding him to take him to her son. Minue would know what to do, how to hide this. He would talk to Evelyn, or she would ask him to later, when she could catch him outside the kings' company… Carol needed to be kept on a tighter leash.

"Let me take you back to your room."

A shaky nod was all the encouragement necessary, and the palaces head of staff felt ten times lighter as she began to lead the now crying girl back into gated grounds. It was just the two of them now, the sound of her borrowed guard and the boy having long since faded. None of the others would notice them trekking through polished courtyards, it was late into the night, the celebration all but over. Her son's rigorously trained men had traded in their spears and armor for a glass of wine and insipid smiles.

They were so close now, passing a wing of the palace she rarely visited. Her Majesty Isis's personal shrine. The key phrase there was 'rarely visited'. She wasn't the only one who made an effort to stay as far away from this place as possible.

That was why it was so strange to see a girl marching straight towards it like someone on a mission. Nefertari slowed, and then stopped completely in surprise. The action caused Carol to look up from where she had been staring at her feet.

"What? What is it?" Carol sniffed and followed her line of sight to see the starved figure entering the shrine. Although in the young girl's mind it gave the impression of being a crypt. Blinking in surprise, she sputtered as Nefertari pulled her up the stairs to follow, "That… that's the Hittite princess. She's supposed to be back in her own country, didn't she leave weeks ago?" There was a pause. "She looks terrible."

She truly did. Barefoot and shivering, dressed in stained rags with a desperate angry look in her eyes. Her hair had lost its shine, it lay in flat tangles down her back. She had been stripped bare of all her jewelry but the gems that still glittered in her hair. There was no other evidence of the finery that declared her station. It was that look that did it. That look. Carol had seen it before, on street urchins caught for stealing, on the slaves back in Gosen, on Evie the night they'd been caught. I t made her heart hurt and her throat close up.

Something bad was going to happen.

There was no resistance now as Nefertari pulled her further into the building.

She couldn't look away.