Atem stood just outside the westernmost pylon of the palace, morning sun at his back, watching as the last of the cargo was loaded onto the royal ship in preparation for their journey to Memphis. Despite the fact no one knew how long they would be gone, Atem had insisted they take only what was necessary — scrolls and important documents, clothing, and other irreplaceable personal effects. Everything else would be provided by their hosts, the Memphis Conclave, or procured as needed. While Memphis did not have its own palace specific for royal visitors, it was decided they'd make use of the former nomark's villa as their temporary living quarters. With its many comfortable suites, central location, and easily fortified layout, it would provide a suitable garrison from which they could plan their strategy for securing the Holy Ka.

Unfortunately, Atem and Satiah had so far made very little headway on translating the Millennium Tome. As they had no way of knowing which spells would be the ones needed to enter the pyramids, they first needed to translate the Tome's index, which listed out every spell and the page on which it was written. Just the names of some spells already had Atem's thoughts churning with morbid curiosity — there were incantations to bring about plagues and torture upon one's enemies, spells offering the power to manipulate matter and energy, and invocations that seemed to imply the ability to stave off death. Every time Atem felt the instinct to flip to one of these pages, he forced himself to remember the words of Ramesses: tread carefully.

Likewise, Satiah's patience and focus helped him to maintain his wariness of the Tome. Before they'd even begun translation efforts, she'd suggested they come up with a secret shorthand for taking written notes, so as to provide yet another obstacle to anyone seeking to steal or copy their work. Every time they completed a page, she would commit any important information to memory, then burn the written records. As an extra precaution, she worked with Shimon to design a lockbox to hold the Tome and Codex whenever they weren't working. The box could only be unlocked using the cartouche piece taken from the puzzle's cover, which Atem now wore around his neck when not in use.

Atem was thankful for his wife's thoroughness, even if it did slow down their work substantially. Like Satiah, Atem was determined not to let his urgency lead to recklessness. While danger would always be imminent with Bakura still prowling the kingdom, they were still several steps ahead of the thief — but even the simplest error might cause them to stumble.

Atem took a deep breath and settled his attention back to the bottom of the wharf, where loud shouts seemed to signal the end of the loading efforts. On the last landing, the familiar shapes of his court stood huddled together, bidding goodbyes to one another. Only three Guardians — Seto, Mahad, and Aknadin — would be traveling with them to Memphis, plus Satiah's father. Meanwhile, Shimon, Shada, Karim, and Iset would stay behind to manage state affairs from Thebes.

Atem turned back toward the palace courtyard, just in time to see his wife emerging from a shaded glade of trees. She set her eyes on him and smiled as the sunlight embraced her, drawing to a stop at arm's length.

"Are you sure you're ready?" she asked.

"A little late for second thoughts, wouldn't you say?" Atem replied, raising his eyebrows.

"I know," Satiah said. "It's just that things are moving so quickly now…"

Atem shook his head. "This is the right move," he said.

Satiah turned her attention back to the ship, her eyes veiled with uncertainty.

Slowly, Atem reached out and touched her arm, pulling her gaze back to him. "What about you, then?" he said. "All packed and ready? Not forgetting anything, are we?"

"WA—AIT!"

A high voice echoed through the courtyard, and Atem snapped his head over his shoulder to see Mana sprinting toward them, a huge satchel slung over her shoulder.

"Wait for me, Master! Please don't leave me!"

Atem released Satiah and surged forward to catch Mana by her satchel as she rushed by. Her momentum stopped short, causing her almost to fall flat on her back. She turned, seething with anger and struggling to pull the satchel out of Atem's grasp.

"Mana, stop—"

"No!" she cried, and as she whipped her head back and forth in frustration, Atem clearly saw tears shaking free from her face. "I want to go, too!"

"We can't take you, Mana—"

Suddenly, Satiah swept over, wrapping her arms around Mana's quivering shoulders. Mana protested at first, trying to pull away, but Satiah shushed the girl, squeezing her in a tight embrace.

"It's okay, Mana," she whispered. A moment later, Mana's arms grew slack, and she released the satchel to turn into Satiah.

"Please don't leave me here all alone!" Mana sobbed into Satiah's shoulder. "I want to go! I want to help!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Atem saw Mahad hurrying up the stairs, looking cross. Satiah saw it too — she held up her hand to stop him, then pulled back from her embrace to take Mana by the shoulders and lead her further into the garden, out of earshot of her master. Atem followed the pair with his eyes, watching as Satiah sat Mana down on a nearby bench. Mana continued to sob while Satiah soothed her in hushed tones.

A moment later, Mahad came up beside Atem, shame tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm sorry, my king," he said. "I tried to explain things to her… But she's just so stubborn."

Atem laughed. "It's fine," he said. "Her persistence will make her a great spellcaster someday."

"One can hope," Mahad said, sighing.

Together, they watched Mana come down from her crying fit as Satiah comforted her with soft words and light touches.

"She's patient with her," Mahad went on.

Atem felt a smile growing on his features. While he'd been treated to brief gleams of Satiah's softer side over the past several weeks, she very rarely let it show in the presence of others. "Well, it helps that she doesn't have to deal with teaching Mana every day."

Mahad let slip a rare chuckle, though he cleared his throat and straightened up again as Satiah and Mana began walking back over to them. When they arrived, Mana sniffed loudly and raised her eyes to her master, her lips pursed tight with feigned anger. Finally, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around Mahad, squeezing all the air out of him. Awkwardly, Mahad lifted a hand and patted her shoulder until she released him a moment later, rubbing her watery eyes. She then turned to Atem, who took her in for a brief embrace as well.

"Don't worry, Mana," he said, pulling back. "We'll be back before you know it."

Mana snuffled again. "You'd better," she muttered, moving back beside Satiah. The two women shared another wordless hug before Mana grabbed her satchel and slouched glumly back toward the palace.

"She'll be alright," Satiah said, watching Mana disappear into the garden. "Though I worry for Shimon — I hope he's thought of something to occupy her while we're gone, for the sake of his sanity."

Atem laughed in agreement, then turned back toward the wharf. "Shall we?"

Together, he, Satiah, and Mahad made their way down the stone stairs, where Metjen, Seto and Aknadin had since made their way up the boarding platform, leaving the rest of the court waiting patiently at the bottom. Mahad and Satiah bid the four Guardians brief goodbyes before following the traveling party up to the top deck.

Shimon was already looking a bit weepy as Atem came up to bid his vizier and mentor farewell. Atem smiled and hugged him.

"Thank you for your patience and counsel these past weeks, my friend," he said, pulling away. "I will keep your wise words with me always."

Shimon sniffed, turned away, and rubbed his eyes.

Atem moved on and shared respectable handshakes with Karim and Shada. "Make sure to write to us often," Karim urged.

"Indeed," Shada agreed. "We want to hear everything there is to know about the Holy Ka."

Atem nodded firmly.

Iset was last to offer her hands to him. He took them, giving them a light squeeze that brought a calm smile to her features. At this, Atem found himself already regretting not asking her to come with them. Her keen insight would be sorely missed.

"Any last words of wisdom?" he asked.

Iset's smile grew. "Seek joy."

She leaned forward and placed a short kiss on his cheek, then released his hands. Feeling warm, Atem turned and hurried up to the ship, offering one last wave to his comrades before the deckhands pulled up the boarding platform behind him. A moment later, the ship lurched to life, slowly easing its way out of the wharf and into the open waters of the Nile.

Atem watched the walls of the palace growing smaller and smaller, until his home became no more than a white streak on the rippling horizon.

At first light on the second day of their journey, Satiah emerged from below deck and filled her lungs with a steep breath of fresh air. The sun was just beginning to crest along the cliffs in an unbroken crown of gold, and as she meandered over to the side of the ship, she saw the same thin light reflected in the water below, stretching on for miles in either direction. The only sounds traveling on the steady breeze were the creak of the masts and sails drawn taut overhead.

Satiah breathed deep of this serenity and wrapped herself in the chill of morning. As much as she'd grown to find comfort in her husband's company in recent weeks, now it seemed that simply looking at him — even when he was deep in sleep, as he was when she'd left his side moments ago — often caused her mind to whirl with thoughts of harrowing danger and sinister magic. Immersing herself in nature's solitude helped to purge her of these unwelcome feelings, if only just a bit.

As dreaming cities and undisturbed countryside lazed by, the sun slowly began to show itself over the horizon, casting sharp rays across the deck and illuminating a hunched form sitting on a pile of crates near the bow of the ship. As Satiah focused closer, her heart lurched upon realizing it was Nebetah.

Satiah had almost forgotten that Tefnak's widow had joined them on their journey, though the former princess was not bound for Memphis — Nebetah would be disembarking at Khemenu, her home city, where she would be welcomed back into the embrace of her blood family. With the death of her husband, son, and father-in-law, Nebetah had almost no ties left to bind her to the royal household. Though Atem had offered to let her live in the palace for as long as she liked, it came as no surprise to Satiah when Nebetah decided to cut the arrangement short. There were too many reminders of her lost son and husband in Thebes — chief among them being the Pharaoh himself.

Looking upon Nebetah, leaning wistfully against the railing of the ship, soon had Satiah feeling a bit guilty. Biting it back, Satiah glided closer, keeping her body near the railing until Nebetah caught sight of her on her own. When she did, Neb sat up straight and forced a humble smile.

"Oh — hello, my queen," she said with a bow of her head.

Satiah wrinkled her nose. "I still haven't gotten used to the way that sounds."

Nebetah's stilted smile turned to a genuine one. "To be honest, I never much cared for 'princess' either."

Satiah laughed and pulled up a crate to sit beside Nebetah, then turned her head to look out over a stretch of desert that crawled slowly into view. "We should be arriving at Khemenu by midday," she said. "You must be looking forward to seeing your family again."

Nebetah nodded, then turned her head down to her lap. "I haven't seen most of them since Meriti was born."

Satiah felt her heart tumble with sorrow again.

"Some of them much longer," Neb went on. "Most of my brothers and sisters haven't visited since my wedding. I have nieces and nephews I haven't even met before."

"Sounds like you have a lot to look forward to," Satiah said, leaning forward to catch Neb's eyes. "It must be nice having such a big family. How many are you, in all?"

Neb grinned. "I'm the oldest of twelve."

Satiah breathed a laugh of disbelief. "Sometimes I wonder how women do it," she said. "How they jump into motherhood, feet first, without a second thought."

As soon as she'd said the words, she wished she could take them back. But even as Satiah's cheeks flushed hot with sun and fluster, Neb's smile remained.

"After helping to raise so many of my brothers and sisters, the only thing in this world I wanted was a child of my own," she said, turning to watch a thick, reedy marsh drifting by. "It's powerful. That urge to open your heart — to let someone depend on you fully and completely. Even now, I'd give everything just to have one more hour with my baby." Neb turned to face Satiah again. Though the widow's eyes were shining, there was no pain in her voice. "But I've come to realize that I have room left in my heart for more than just the dead."

Suddenly, Satiah felt her shame turn to wonder. Neb's grace touched her deeply, all the way through her newly restored spirit, and threatened to stir up tears of her own.

"I think we all do," Nebetah went on, and Satiah jolted when the widow reached out to rest a hand over hers on the ship's railing. "It just takes some of us a little longer than others to see it."

Satiah bit down on her tongue to stave off a sob, then wrapped her fingers tight around Nebetah's. "Come and find me when we arrive," she said, standing. "I want to say goodbye."

Neb gave a firm nod and released Satiah's hand, allowing her to turn and hide the tears brimming on her lashes. Swiftly, Satiah made her way to the stern of the ship and ducked below deck, squeezing down the narrow corridor to the living quarters, where she rubbed her swimming eyes and settled her nerves with a deep breath.

As she passed her and her husband's cabin, Satiah peeked in to see Atem was already gone, along with the lockbox that held the Tome and the Codex. Frowning, she moved on toward the galley in the center of the ship's lower deck. She looked in the doorway as she came to it, half-relieved, half-piqued to find Atem sitting alone at the head of the long table, bathed in weak light coming from a slotted porthole in the wall behind. The Tome and Codex lay stretched out before him, along with a small strip of papyrus on which he was currently scribbling with an ink brush.

She peered at him from the shadows for a while — watching the way his fingers moved the brush with purpose across the page. His brow was set straight with determination as he flicked his eyes between the Codex and his work.

Her curiosity must have been palpable, as he suddenly glanced up and met her gaze head-on. The look on his face first betrayed surprise, then delight.

"There you are," he said, putting his brush down. "I missed you this morning."

The earnest tone of his voice conjured up the same peculiar sensation she'd felt a moment ago in Nebetah's presence. But instead of tears, a smile broke unbidden to Satiah's face as she stepped through the shallow doorway, moving with purpose to her husband's side. "I wanted to watch the sun rise," she said, leaning back against the table beside him.

"And how did you find Nefertem's shining face?" he asked, laying a hand on her thigh.

"Beautiful as ever," she replied.

Atem smiled, running his thumb lightly over her knee. "Well, while you were sunbathing," he teased, reaching over to pick up the strip of papyrus on the table, "I was busy making breakthroughs. Look at this."

Satiah took up the papyrus and inspected the glyphs. "'Invocation of Horus and his God Hand,'" she read aloud. Her eyebrows shot up. "That sounds promising."

Atem nodded. "If I remember correctly, Horus was Menkaura's patron."

"You're brilliant," she said, then reached out to brush her fingers across his cheek.

Satiah was halfway to meeting his lips for a kiss when a loud creak came from the floorboards behind. She rose and spun, just in time to see Aknadin ducking into the galley.

Reflexively, Satiah crumpled the papyrus and threw it into the lockbox on the center of the table. Aknadin cleared his throat, but Satiah ignored him, reaching over to snap the Tome closed and take up the Codex beside it. She tugged the cartouche key out of the Codex, causing the symbols to purge from the artifact, then placed both items in the lockbox and pulled the cover down. As she turned to hand the key back to Atem, she found him looking vexed.

"I'm sorry, your highnesses," Aknadin said. "I did not mean to interrupt."

Atem swiped the cartouche out of Satiah's hand and slung it back around his neck. "It's quite alright, Aknadin," he said, flicking his eyes from Satiah to his priest. "Do you have news to share?"

"An update from the captain, my king," Aknadin replied. "He says we are making good pace and should arrive in Khemenu by midday. If the winds hold, another day and a half more will see us sailing into Memphis."

"Thank you," Atem said.

Satiah found it odd when Aknadin remained rooted to the spot just inside the door, his one functioning eye drawn toward the lockbox on the table between him and his king. As if her impatience weren't already apparent, Satiah crossed her arms.

Clearly feeling the discomfort in the room, Atem leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table before him. "Was there something else?"

Again, Aknadin cleared his throat, shifting his weight as the ship rolled over a particularly large wave. "Forgive me, my king… I do not wish to speak out of turn."

"Nonsense," Atem said. "You may speak freely here."

As if he'd been waiting for this invitation, Aknadin moved closer, crossing his hands behind his back and running his eyes along the lockbox again. "I feel I would be remiss… If I didn't express my concerns over your approach to translating the Millennium Tome."

Satiah flashed her eyes down to her husband, catching sight of his temple flexing as he worked his jaw. "Would you care to elaborate?" he said flatly.

"Myself and the other guardians are worried your highness may be spreading himself too thin," Aknadin said smoothly. Satiah did not fail to notice the priest left her name out of his mouth. "Surely it would be simpler and more efficient to share these duties with your trusted advisors — and easier on your spirit."

"Efficiency is not my concern," Atem replied. "Accuracy and accountability are of the utmost importance to this effort."

Satiah was pleased to hear her husband holding his ground, but Aknadin did not seem prepared to back down either.

"Of course, Pharaoh," he said, his tone turning obsequious. "However, we worry as well about what would become of your great work if, gods forbid, something should happen to you." Out of the corner of her eye, Satiah saw Atem sitting up straight at this. "Since your highness lacks an heir, the court would be left wondering who to turn to if you were to…pass on, before your wife bears a son to you."

When at last the priest acknowledged her existence, Satiah was left feeling as though he'd thrown hot oil on her skin. "And what concern is it of yours whether or not I bear a son?" she spat. "Or, for that matter, whether I have children at all?"

Both men in the room were stunned to silence by her words. Though she kept her gaze trained on the priest, Satiah could feel her husband's eyes piercing through her from where he sat.

"Would that diminish my standing as queen, if I should never bring a child into this world?"

Aknadin's mouth moved up and down as he searched for an acceptable reply. "Of course not, your highness," he stammered. "But, crude as it may be… This is what is expected of the Pharaoh's wife."

Her heart caught instantly aflame. "Is that so?"

"Satiah—"

"Well, what I expect, Guardian Aknadin—" she took two brave steps forward, coming to within striking distance of the priest, "—is for you to do your duty and protect your king, instead of concerning yourself with what should happen if you were to fail at that task."

Silence again. This time, Aknadin seemed unconcerned with delivering any ingratiating niceties, his features drawn tight in his attempt to seem dispassionate. She stared him down for another blistering moment, then cut by him as swift as a knife.

"Satiah, wait—"

Her husband's plea was drowned in the scrape of a chair, but within seconds Satiah was already halfway up the stairs to the top deck. She ducked behind a wall of cargo and swept along the side of the ship, until Atem finally caught up and grabbed her wrist.

"Satiah—"

She spun, tugging her hand out of his grasp. She wanted to feel guilty over the startled look he gave her, but her heart was still smoldering, turning everything around it to cinders.

"How could you let him speak to me that way?" she hissed thinly. "As if I wasn't even in the room?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Is it because you feel the same?" Her voice grew ever more tenuous, and she realized it was because she was barely holding back tears.

"I told you there was no hurry, and I meant it," he said firmly. "What more can I say to make you believe me?"

"Say nothing," she spat. "It seems to be what you're best at."

Suddenly, Atem swept in and took her shoulders in his hands. "No," he said, "that's not good enough for me." Satiah didn't know whether to be tempered or enraptured by his touch. "We have duties to each other that go far beyond whatever frivolous expectations others may have for us." His violet gaze cascaded over her like the Nile rushing below them. "I will not let resentment push us apart. Not at a time when we need each other most of all."

When a moment ago she'd been beset by the urge to flee, Satiah now found herself throwing her arms around his neck and stifling a dry sob into his shoulder. Atem held urgently to her, reaching up to cradle her head in one hand.

"I will speak with him," he whispered. "I will speak with all of them. We shall hear no more talk of heirs and succession until after our work in Memphis is complete."

Satiah pulled back and swiped her hands beneath her eyes, clearing them of any encroaching tears. "Thank you."

Atem smiled empathetically and wrapped an arm around the small of her back, angling them both to look out over the blue-green water. "It has been many years since Egypt had a queen," he remarked. "Give them time. Before long, they will see everything I see."