On the third and final day of their journey, Atem awoke yet again to an empty bed. Fighting a yawn, he leaned up and looked to the porthole across the cabin, greeted with a thin stream of light cast upward on the ceiling — barely daybreak, and Satiah was already gone. Atem knew he shouldn't be surprised — at any moment, her home city would be rising up on the horizon; a smile came to his lips at the thought of the elation she must be feeling upon returning to her birthplace. Remembering Iset's parting words, Atem rose and readied himself for the day, hopeful he hadn't missed too much of his wife's excitement already.
As he dressed, he thought pensively about how such joy was long overdue for Satiah. For months, she'd been run through a hellacious gauntlet of challenges, and she had so far managed to weather them with grace. But Atem was ashamed that, even with his new sovereign power, he'd been unable to shield her from many of the stigmas being thrown at her — some by his own court, no less. After her clash with Aknadin the day before, Atem had gathered his Guardians and delivered a thorough reprimand against addressing the queen in such a manner. The tongue-lashing was largely out of character for him, and featured such extreme terms as "unacceptable," "disrespectful," and "forbid," but it helped Atem overcome some of his guilt to make the matter abundantly clear for the future.
These thoughts put a noticeable spring in his step as he left his cabin and traced his hands along the dark halls in search of the dawning light above deck. When he entered Nefertem's embrace, however, Atem was forced to raise a hand to shield his eyes from a piercing ray of gold rising over the flat plateau to the northwest — the capstone of Khufu's Great Pyramid, flashing harshly with each sway of the ship, as if beckoning them toward it. Atem couldn't help but feel a bit of anxiety at the sight.
He made his way over to the side of the ship, hoping the beauty of Memphis would help to quiet his nerves. But as the white pylons of Sekhmet's temple emerged above the rolling fields of green and gold, the only thing he could bring himself to feel was remorse — a quiet, burning shame for what had been set in motion the last time he'd set foot on the hallowed ground of Memphis.
Thankfully, his attention was drawn away from the sight at the sound of his wife's bright laughter rising over the bustle of sailors and deckhands working. Further down the ship, Satiah was leaning up against the railing, her father standing beside her with his arm thrown over her shoulder. Even from where he was standing, Atem could all but feel their cheer. They laughed together and pointed out familiar landmarks along the horizon, bright-eyed and red-cheeked.
After another moment more, Satiah met his gaze, and though her laughter died down a bit, her smile remained. She whispered something to her father, then ducked out of his embrace to make her way toward Atem. She said nothing, even as she came within arm's reach and leaned her hip against the railing. Atem found it impossible not to mirror her smile, despite the slight twinge of nervousness that was still tugging at the back of his mind.
"It's hard to believe I've only been gone two months," she said, turning her eyes west again. "So much has changed since then…and yet the city looks the same as it ever did."
"That's good," Atem replied. "Right?"
Satiah grinned wider and nodded, then moved in and wrapped her hands around his forearm, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," she breathed.
Atem lifted his eyebrows. "For what?" he asked.
She moved so her chin was resting on his shoulder, and her eyes sparkled as they caught the reflection of the sun on the water. "For taking me home."
Atem wanted to feel pride at these words, but his shame burned on. He didn't feel he'd earned the right to take credit for delivering her back to the waiting arms of her homeland — not when it had been his kin who'd stolen her away from it in the first place.
He pulled back a bit, hiding his guilt with another smile. "Come," he said, taking her hand. "Let us go and greet your people."
Atem turned and led the way toward the bow of the ship, where he vaulted onto the stempost platform and turned to help Satiah up as well. The ship was already beginning to slow and turn westward as they made their way to the very edge of the deck. He and Satiah held tight to the railing to watch the hulking vessel squeeze itself into one of Memphis' many narrow canals. As it did, Atem kept his eyes trained on the banks of the river, looking for the familiar sights and sounds of their subjects waiting to welcome their king and queen. But as the ship trundled along through the shallow waters, they were met with no such cheer from the citizens of Memphis.
Here and there along the banks, cold eyes followed the royal ship, but the people offered up neither smiles nor waves — nor did they throw offerings into the river as was customary upon the arrival of a Pharaoh. Most of them stood huddled on their doorsteps or in their windows, or otherwise kept their eyes averted, busying themselves with the day's most mundane tasks. The sight left Atem feeling cold, but his heart sank even further upon seeing what it had done to Satiah — she looked to be on the verge of tears to see not a single citizen raising their arms in welcome to her.
Fighting his own doubt, Atem wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her in close. "It's still early," he said, unable to temper the pity in his voice. "Those that aren't already in the fields are likely still sleeping."
It was many moments before Satiah took her eyes away from the banks of the river, but she did not turn her attention to him when she did — instead, she cast her gaze over his shoulder, her face slowly growing tight with scorn. Worried, Atem looked behind, seeing none other than Aknadin leaning up against the railing nearby. Like them, the Guardian was surveying the nome — the one over which he'd ruled for the past two months. The slight smile on his lips struck Atem with a strange, uncanny sensation. Suddenly, as if he felt their gazes on him, Aknadin turned his glinting Millennium Eye toward where Atem and Satiah stood. He offered another smile and a light bow of his head before turning and disappearing into the darkness below deck.
For the sake of her husband, Satiah did everything she could to conceal her contempt upon being forced to walk beside Aknadin on their way through the city streets. Here, too, the presence of the common people was thin, and though Satiah knew her imagination was kindling into conspiracy, it seemed almost as if they were anxious — even fearful. Her mind raced wildly with thoughts of what the priest might have done to her beloved city and nome while she was gone.
As they rounded a bend, however, Satiah's attention was immediately drawn to a familiar sprawl of buildings, nestled in along a hillside in the shadow of Sekhmet's temple. To her relief, her family's villa still stood, looking largely unblemished during their two-month absence.
Led on by a phalanx of the kingsguard, the royal envoy waded a shallow canal at the foot of the hill, then made their way up to the villa gates, where they were greeted by a small welcoming party of priests from the Memphis Conclave. She scanned their faces, but even in the midmorning light she barely recognized more than four or five of them among the two dozen or so in attendance.
Upon their arrival, the priest at the front of the group — a thin, wild-eyed young man who looked barely older than Satiah — stepped forward and dropped to a full, kneeling bow before she and Atem. Satiah fought hard to purge a wincing grimace from her face before he rose back up.
"Praise be the gods above, the Pharaoh and his court have arrived at last!" the priest proclaimed. "I am Neheb, Chief Priest of the Memphis Conclave. My comrades and I are at your humble service, my king."
Again, Satiah felt a skeptical sneer creeping onto her face. How was it possible this boy had managed to rise to Chief Priest in less than two months' time, when Satiah had never even heard of him before? More concerning than this thought, however, was what she feared had happened to his predecessor and her former mentor, Jahar. He was clearly not present among the current attendance, and though Jahar was an elderly man now, it seemed completely out of the question that he might have fallen ill or passed away in such a short time. Satiah's conspiratorial thoughts were once again whipped up into a frenzy, her eyes throwing wrathful heat at Aknadin where he stood mere feet away from her.
A moment later, Atem spoke and pulled her from her seething thoughts. "Thank you for the warm welcome, Neheb."
At this, the Chief Priest bent at the waist again. "Your highness must be weary from his long travels," he went on, continuing to gesticulate wildly with his arms, which were draped in fine white and red robes. "We have prepared the nomark's suite in anticipation of your arrival. If you'll follow me…"
Neheb swept his arm out behind him, causing the sea of other priests to part and make way for the royal envoy to enter the villa courtyard beyond. The Chief Priest fell into step alongside them, directing them through the gardens to the northeast corner of the compound. Satiah looked to her father as the nomark's suite came into view, noting the glimmer of humbled nostalgia in his eye.
"Here we are," Neheb announced, turning to Satiah and Atem. "Please, let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable." With yet another obsequious bow, the Chief Priest excused himself to lead the rest of the court to their own accommodations further on.
Satiah kept eyes on her father until he disappeared behind a row of trees nearby. At this, she felt Atem reach out and touch her arm. He jerked his head toward the suite, and Satiah forced up a smile as she followed him over the threshold.
Though the layout of her father's suite was unchanged, it had been redecorated to the extreme — with excessively flourishing furniture and gaudy gold embellishments on every surface. The first floor featured a small sitting room, made smaller still by the enormous chairs and table just inside the door, plus a simple washroom tucked behind the stairs. The bedchamber made up the entirety of the second floor interior, which had been outfitted with a large bed that rivaled the size of even their own back in Thebes. A wide working table was positioned against the exterior wall, which featured two windows overlooking the city and the Giza plateau beyond. It was a hazy day, so the pyramids themselves were barely more than white lines on the horizon.
As much as Satiah wanted to feel the glow of peace to be back in her childhood home, her thoughts were still tumbling with intrigue. She crossed her arms and watched as Atem moved through the bedroom, tracing his hands along the furniture idly. He turned and offered a smile, which Satiah couldn't bring herself to return. A moment later, however, her nose began to tingle with the scent of food. On the other side of the room, a doorway led out onto a small terrace overlooking the courtyard below. Satiah moved over and peeked through the door, where a shaded table had been set out with an impressive spread of delectables.
Atem came up beside her and pointed to the end of the table. "Look — sweet cakes," he said. "Seems the cooks haven't forgotten your taste in cuisine."
At this, Satiah finally allowed herself a small smile.
Atem lifted a hand to stroke her upper arm. "Come, let's eat," he said, stepping out and setting to work building a plate.
Satiah hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I'm not hungry," she said. "I think I may go arrange a visit to the necropolis." At this, Atem stopped and looked up. "If…that's alright with you."
His smile fell away a bit, but he cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course," he said. "Take as long as you need."
Satiah lowered her head in thanks, then turned and receded down the stairs. As she walked back through the gardens, it suddenly struck her that perhaps Atem had been expecting an invitation to come along. The thought pelted her with a sudden wave of guilt, to think that she might be taking out some of her recent frustrations on her husband unknowingly.
She found herself sidetracked again, however, by the hushed sound of her father's voice nearby. Satiah stopped and craned her neck around a tree trunk, seeing her father standing beneath the veranda on the perimeter of the courtyard, speaking to a shaded figure. Carefully, Satiah moved a bit closer, revealing the figure as Mayet, one of the few familiar faces who'd been amongst the welcoming party. Mayet caught sight of Satiah, and almost immediately the priestess straightened up with a nervousness that seemed very uncharacteristic of her. Satiah's father looked over as well, then turned back to Mayet and said another few words before excusing himself.
Mayet hurried into the shadows while Metjen made his way toward Satiah.
"What was that all about?" she asked.
Her father shifted his eyes back and forth, then took Satiah by the arm and led her deeper into the gardens. "I wanted to get the full story on this Neheb character," he muttered, his gaze still sweeping the area until he found a sufficiently quiet spot to stop. "Mayet tells me those who remained loyal to our family have since been 'purged' of their positions within the Conclave."
Satiah's eyes went wide.
"Their words, not mine," her father went on. "Apparently, Jahar didn't take very well to some of the changes Aknadin wanted to implement. While the Guardian was down in Thebes for your wedding, Jahar tried to take back control of the Conclave. He only managed to get about a third of the priests on board before Aknadin returned, and… Well, you can imagine what happened next."
"Gods," Satiah hissed. "Where are Jahar and the others now?"
"They were forced to flee up to Natria," her father explained. "Aknadin didn't follow them, but he declared a citywide decree that anyone found conspiring against him would be punished with fifty lashes."
Satiah exhaled sharply — the citizens' earlier trepidation was now starting to make much more sense. "Has Mayet had any contact with the others?"
Her father shook his head. "It seems the conflict was brought to a standstill after the death of the king," he explained. "Those who remained saw it best to let things lie for now, rather than risk Aknadin's wrath."
Satiah gritted her teeth. "I should speak with Atem about this." She started to turn away, but her father caught her arm.
"I'm not sure that's the best idea," he said.
Satiah screwed up her face. "I suppose you'd prefer to be accused of treason once again?" she hissed.
Her father looked thoroughly conflicted, but he took a deep breath to settle himself. "We both know the Pharaoh will never agree to pardon the traitors," he said.
"You don't know that."
Metjen scoffed. "If there's one thing I do know about the boy, it's that he is his father's son."
Satiah felt her gut roiling with doubt.
"Listen to me, Sati," her father continued, holding tight to both of her shoulders. "I'm not ready to give up on Jahar and the others just yet — but I'm worried more about you than anything else. To have you advocating for a traitor will only play further into Aknadin's hands."
Satiah looked down, considering the words. It was true, Aknadin had been belligerent toward her family since the moment her father had fallen to the sands just up the hill at the Temple of Sekhmet. She'd been hopeful that her ascension to queenhood would temper the tensions between them, but if their clash the day before was any indication, Aknadin didn't seem ready to back down in the least.
"I have an idea."
Satiah turned up to see a surreptitious glint in her father's eye.
"If Jahar only rebelled out of loyalty to our family, then there's a chance that, if I can somehow arrange a meeting with him… I may be able to convince him to surrender."
Satiah cocked her head. "That's an enormous risk, Father."
"It's worth it if I can keep you from getting wrapped up in this mess," he said.
"A little late for that now, don't you think?"
Her father smiled. "I promise, this is the last you'll hear about it," he said. "From here on out, I'll take care of everything."
Satiah sighed. "That's exactly what has me worried."
By the time Satiah and her father had arranged an escort to the necropolis, the sun was already past its peak in the sky. With Ra's eye slowly sinking westward, light was now pouring in through the small archway leading to the nexus of her family's tombs. Though she stood on the threshold of her brother's burial chamber, she found her eyes wandering — preoccupied by watching dust scintillating in the sunbeams or the swirling smoke of the incense reed she held.
Finally, Satiah stirred from her reverie when her father rose up from kneeling before the nearby statue of Anubis. He cast her a somber smile as he moved toward her, carrying a satchel of offerings in his arms. Gathering herself with a deep breath, Satiah turned toward the dark chamber and stepped into it, letting her eyes trace along the walls lined with old offerings and her brother's earthly belongings — a chair that had once been in his bedchamber, a set of goblets and a carafe of wine, a senet board he'd been given as a gift. Holding out the smoldering reed of incense, Satiah knelt at the foot of his sarcophagus and lit the flames of the half-burnt candles all around it.
Slowly, the chamber began to fill with light, drawing the stark profile of his sarcophagus on the wall behind. As she rose up, Satiah's eyes fell to the center of the coffin lid, where the stone likeness of Metka had its arms crossed tightly over its chest. Her heart tumbled with wonder to see, still cradled between her brother's hands, was the blue lotus given to her by the former queen's ka.
Satiah was immediately transported back to that day, when the wounds of her loss were still deep and fresh. She remembered starkly how everything had seemed so dire then — how she could barely imagine living without her brother, let alone facing a lifetime of uncertainty without his love and support. She remembered, too, how patient Atem had been with her through it all. How kind and perceptive he was, how it seemed everything he said — and even some of the things he didn't say — were all in service of making her feel safe and secure.
Just then, Satiah felt her father moving beside her. He stooped to his knees, laying out an offering of bread and wine at the foot of his son's sarcophagus. The flicker of light on his face sent another memory racing through Satiah's mind, this one of how he had spoken to her after Metka's death — how he'd said that she was lucky to be betrothed to a prince. She still recalled how deep the words had stung, to hear her father boiling her existence down to nothing more than wifehood. But as she looked at him now, sending up a private prayer to his departed son, Satiah realized he'd been right all along. She was quite lucky, all things considered — lucky she had been spared death for the crimes of her father, lucky she'd been given to a gentle husband. Lucky even to have her spirit restored to her, when it once seemed like the greatest injustice in the world to have it taken away at all.
A moment later, her father stood, bowing one last blessing to Metka's sarcophagus before backing away. Satiah watched until he disappeared down the corridor to the next chamber. When she turned back, her eyes immediately fell to the lotus blossom again. Though it no longer glowed with a soft blue aura, it looked not to have aged a day in nearly two months' time. She felt the urge to reach out and touch it, to see if it still had comfort left to share. But she resisted, knowing she now had her own warmth to return to at the foot of the mountain.
Smiling, Satiah whispered out a brief prayer over her brother's sarcophagus — one of hope and gratitude, and of peace and certainty. Then, standing, she turned and walked toward the light, ready to welcome whatever it revealed.
Dusk was settling in over Memphis as Satiah and her father finally rode back across the city limits. Though they were escorted by a small company of priests, their faces were largely concealed by the headscarves they wore, and it lifted Satiah's spirits a bit to see the commoners no longer shrinking away into the shadows as they passed. Back before the rebellion, Satiah and her family had been so closely tied to their people that they often moved among the streets without an escort at all. Satiah doubted she'd ever get to experience such carefree liberty again.
Soon, they forded across the canal encircling the villa and rode back into the silent courtyard. The stablehands who took their horses informed them dinner had commenced without them, but that leftovers had been brought back to their respective residences. Satiah thanked the servants, bid goodnight to her father, then swept through the darkening gardens toward the nomark's suite. On the terrace above it, she saw the warm flicker of light coming from the second floor, and a subconscious smile broke on her face.
Hurriedly, Satiah entered the suite and climbed the stairs to the bedchamber, her smile growing tenfold as her eyes fell instantly to her husband's sleeping form: Atem was sitting at the table, his heavy head and arms laid across a sea of papyri stretched out before him. One of his hands was still clutched around an ink brush, the other curled up beneath his chin in an almost childlike manner.
Clicking her tongue, Satiah padded quietly across the floor and stood over him, contemplating whether or not she should wake him. He looked utterly at peace, his shoulders rising and falling like a steady tide. His face, which was often drawn tight with conviction these days, now looked as placid as a cloudless sky.
Satiah found herself growing sleepy just looking at him, so, selfishly, she leaned over his chair and brushed his flaxen bangs away from his cheek, feathering a kiss across the skin beneath. He stirred almost immediately, sucking in a breath and lifting his head away from the table. His wakening eyes slowly found hers, and Satiah's heart leapt to see a smile come to his lips.
He let loose a deep exhale, then swept his eyes around the room as if measuring whether or not it was a dream. "How long was I out?"
Satiah grinned. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I just got back."
He looked at her again, the fatigue slowly dimming from his features. His smile remained, however, and Satiah found herself falling into him, where she smoothed a long, grateful kiss against his upturned lips. Atem reached a hand up to thread his fingers into her hair, and Satiah mirrored the motion, cradling his face as they shared in this sensuous moment.
When at last Satiah pulled away, the wavering candlelight illuminated a slight flush on her husband's cheeks. "What was that for?"
Satiah bit at her wettened, smiling lips. "For everything."