"Is that the last of them, Raziya?" Seth asked, willing his voice and face to be equally expressionless as he held out the linen basket to her. In truth, the task chafed.

"Why," she asked, placing the basket atop the others. "Do you have somewhere else to be?"

And that was officially worse, being reminded that the prince hadn't summoned him in a week. Spending time with his future court, probably.

You're an idiot, the little voice in his head told him. He's a prince. You're a servant. What did you think would happen?

Raziya was eying him with a strange expression on her face. Seth wrenched his attention back to her. "Sorry, I was just..."

"A week is hardly that long," she said dryly.

Embarrassed that she'd guessed his thoughts so easily, Seth looked away. "It's stupid," he muttered.

To his surprise, Raziya smiled at him. "He grabs hearts. It's his way."

Seth could find nothing to say to that.

"But you're a servant," she said, still with surprising gentleness. "And this is your duty. Whether the prince notices you or not."

Seth could find nothing to say to that either.

"Go," the woman added, back to her usual brisk self and making a shooing motion. "Clear your head. Come back ready to work."

Seth did his best in the days that followed to focus on his duties. Raziya didn't speak to him of the prince again, and his errands kept him away from that portion of the palace. Instead of fighting it, he fed his bitterness to his magic and gained in power and control.

"Well done, Seth," Aknadin praised once, and Seth felt a warm feeling settle in his chest.

Then, one day, rounding a corner, he nearly ran headlong into the prince himself.

"Seth!" The prince's eyes lit up. "You're back!"

Startled, Seth looked. "Back?"

"Didn't you visit your family in the city?"

"N-no. I don't have family in the city. Who told..."

"A misunderstanding, then," the prince said, waving his hand in dismissal. I wish I'd known earlier." His eyes gleamed. "It's been too long since I've played a good game."

The warm feeling that settled in Seth's stomach then dwarfed Aknadin's by comparison. He found himself smirking. "Whenever you're ready, my prince."

"Your Highness!"

The prince turned his head to call back down the hallway. "One moment, Shimon!" He turned back to face Seth. "Go set up the senet board in my quarters. I'll be there as soon as I can."

After a brief word with Raziya - she shot him a indecipherable look when he told her of the prince's orders - Seth set off for the prince's chambers. He had not been there since his last game, but he was confident he could find the right wing. The apprentice priests were housed there too; the Millennium Rod priests and priestess were closer to the pharaoh himself.

The warm glow and excitement carried him all the way up the stairs before they were doused in a most unwelcome way.

"You there. Boy!"

Unwillingly, Seth turned.

Chuma stood in his doorway, holding a pair of pitchers. "Fetch me some wine."

"I will summon one of the house servants," Seth said stiffly.

I did not ask one of the house servants, Boy," Chuma said coldly. "I asked you." He shoved the pitchers at Seth. "You are a slave and you will do as you are told."

"Servant," Seth corrected, just as coldly, "And if you wish, I will summon…"

There was a terrific blow. Seth found himself on the floor, head reeling, staring up into Chuma's furious face.

"You dare to talk back to me?" Chuma snarled. "You were lucky to claw your way out of the dung pile where you were born, but if you cross me, your luck will change. Do you understand?"

Seth wiped the blood from his split lip. He knew he had gone too far, and he tried to make his next words more conciliatory. "I am already on an errand for the prince. I will have one of the other servants come and attend to you immediately."

Suddenly, the air in his lungs cut off. Seth clawed at his throat, but to no avail. The hallway grew cold. He could not breathe…in his panic, his own magic slipped away when he tried to grasp it.

"You expect me to believe that you are on an errand for the prince?" Chuma said contemptuously. "If you were a slave of mine, I would cut out your lying tongue."

Spots began to flicker at the edges of Seth's vision.

"Chuma?" a new voice interrupted. "What's going on?" Then it became alarmed. "Stop! You'll kill him."

"It would serve him right," Chuma said, but the pressure on Seth's throat immediately eased. He was able to draw in a quick, shallow breath. His head began to clear.

"What has he done?" The newcomer was a boy, brown-haired like most people of Khemet, and with hands and feet too large for the rest of his body. He was dressed in the robes of another apprentice priest.

"None of your concern," Chuma growled. He flicked his hand, and Seth was hurled back to sprawl on the floor. "I have decided to be merciful, you insolent brat. Now Fetch. My. Wine."

Kill him. Rip his heart out.

Slowly, Seth rose to his knees, then his feet.

Make him eat it.

Then, Seth came back to himself with a start. To his horror, he recognized the whispering for what it was: the Shadows. Bakura was right. They were stronger now than they had ever been. Gods, had he actually been considering...Heart hammering, barely able to see through the mix of anger, shame, and Shadows, he managed a short bow and fled.

In its chamber, the Millennium Rod glowed.

Seth made it halfway to the kitchens before he had to stop and lean trembling against a wall. He covered his ears, but the whispering didn't stop. Worse, the suggestions were sounding more and more appealing.

Break his bones. Drink his blood.

No.

The Shadows only laughed at him. Why resist?

Seth narrowed his eyes, and felt his spine straighten, his head lift. Because I will not be ruled by you. And with a mental effort, and calling upon the techniques Aknadin had taught him, he forced the Shadows down. They retreated, hissing in rage and frustration, but they did retreat.

With his newfound clarity of mind, Seth realized how poorly he had dealt with Chuma. All the superiority he had always felt around other boys his age, and he had lost his temper. Seth was a servant, as Raziya had so accurately reminded him, and Chuma was an apprentice priest. Eventually, he might inherit a Millennium Item.

Bide your time, the cool voice of reason reminded him. Grow in power. Stay alive.

Taking a deep breath, Seth pushed himself away from the wall and set off for the kitchens.

In his chambers, Chuma fumed. It had been far too long since he'd sent that brat for wine. Likely the little gutter rat had forgotten or decided to defy Chuma further. He'd shouldn't have let go when he did...

There was a knock at the door.

"Come!" Chuma growled.

The door opened. Seth stood there, holding a tray carefully balanced with cups and wine. Chuma felt a thrill at the quiet, demure way the slave boy stood, head lowered and eyes downcast. Clearly all the worthless servant needed was a small reminder of his place.

"Finally." Chuma was a little disappointed when the boy didn't lift his eyes to meet Chuma's glare. "Did you crawl all the way there?"

"My apologies," Seth said quietly. "A new cask of wine needed to be opened, and the Steward was not in the kitchens."

Chuma narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if the boy was lying, but Seth simply stood there passively, head still bowed. Finally, Chuma made an impatient sign to bring the wine and lay it on the table. Seth did so, stepping back once he'd set the tray down and bowing slightly.

"Is there anything else?"

Chuma smirked, enjoying the power he clearly held. "Yes. Pour."

Seth stepped back to the tray, lifted the flask in both hands, and carefully poured the wine. Chuma took a sip of the proffered drink. It was good wine, better in fact, then he had expected. He felt another little thrill.

"You may go," he said imperiously.

Seth bowed one more time, and then backed towards the door. He finally turned to push it open.

"Oh, but first, Seth?"

Seth turned. Chuma took one more swig of the valuable wine, waited until the boy glanced up, and then poured the remainder out onto the floor.

"Clean this up."

Seth closed the door behind himself some time later and nearly ran into the boy who had saved him earlier. Up close, he looked even more like a large, clumsy puppy, in that stage of growing where everything was out-of-proportion.

"Excuse me," Seth muttered, and made to pass, but the apprentice didn't move out of the way, gently but immovably blocking Seth's path.

"Listen... I am sorry about Chuma," he began awkwardly.

"I'm only a servant," Seth said evenly, trying to contain his bitterness. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

The boy looked down at his feet. "Chuma had no right to punish you like that. If you were insolent, he should have summoned your master to deal with…"

"So in your eyes, his only real fault is that someone else should have been strangling me?"

"His fault is that he almost killed you!" the boy said, stung. "He would have, if I had not interfered."

For a moment, they stared at each other, then Seth said reluctantly, "I'm sorry. And thank you."

The boy's expression immediately cleared and he offered a small smile. "And I am sorry if I offended you. I am Mahaad."

"Seth."

"Seth," Mahaad said, testing it out. "I admit I am not quite sure what to make of you. Chuma says you're insolent."

"Chuma is a bully."

That startled a laugh out of Mahaad. "Ra, but you are insolent."

"Am I wrong?"

Mahaad looked troubled for a moment, then shook his head. "No." This time, when Seth stepped forward, he moved out of the way. "I am glad to have met you, Seth," Mahaad called out as Seth walked past him.

Seth nodded, but did not turn around.

"What took you so long?" the prince demanded, looking up. He had a brush in his hand, and a half-finished scroll on the desk before him. The senet board sat off the right, all set up. "I specifically told you to return here. Shimon has had time to return and give me writing practice!"

And a good thing too, Seth thought, stung by this rebuke. Your writing is horrible.

The prince's eyes narrowed. "It's not horrible."

Seth's anger was replaced by dawning horror. "I...I didn't say anything, Your Highness."

"Yes, you did," the prince said irritably. "You mind-linked it right to me!"

"But that would require magic…," Seth all-but-stammered, and hated himself for it. "I don't..."

The prince started laughing. He laughed so hard in fact that he curled up in his chair, clutching his stomach. When Seth just stared at him, his eyes widened. "Gods...you honestly thought I didn't know."

Seth was beginning to feel dizzy. "You never said anything."

"I didn't think I needed to, with all the magic every time we played a game!"

"That was you."

The prince sighed. "Seth," he said in the air of one pronouncing an irrefutable fact. "You are an idiot."

For the second time, Seth was rendered speechless.

"I know the feel of my own magic. And even if I did not, the Shadows tell you once the game starts if your opponent has magic of his own!"

Seth swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I...Have you told anyone?" he asked.

The prince arched an eyebrow, and Seth instantly cursed his mistake. The thought had clearly never occurred to the prince, but Seth's reaction had just as clearly roused his curiosity. "Is there some reason I should not?"

Seth thought quickly. How to reply? Dare he drag Lord Aknadin's name into this? What would be most likely to persuade? "If I'm taken for training, won't they keep me from playing Shadow Games?" Unspoken: With you?

"Not if I ordered them to allow it," the prince said somewhat doubtfully. He hesitated then, and shrugged. "I suppose it is hardly an important secret. And," he added, eyes gleaming with sudden excitement. "It could be ours."

Was the prince truly that desperate for a companion his own age? Pity briefly intruded on Seth's sense of relief. He studied the prince a moment. But the prince was no longer looking at him, but had turned back to the senet board.

"Shall we play?" he asked.

Seth sat.