She sat silently as the slave girls expertly ran the gilt comb through her heavy dark hair. She was an attendant herself, but she served the pharaoh himself, and couldn't be bothered with things like combing her hair. Her face was impassive and her body position neutral, allowing the slaves to make her presentable. The gold earrings hung heavy from her lobes, and a few jeweled rings adorned her slender fingers. An embroidered belt hung around her waist, standing out a bit against the plain white of her pleated dress. One of her favorite slaves approached with makeup and heavily outlined her eyes with dark colors. The day would go as usual; she would follow the pharaoh about and sit in his presence in the throne room as part of his court. She would watch his Shadow Games from the sidelines and cheer him on in a dignified manner. When he ate his meals, she would join some of the other young women in dancing before him, their liquid movements rivaling those of any goddess.
The slaves draped sheer linen across her shoulders and fastened gold about her neck. With the grace of the rising sun, she stood and walked down the corridors towards where she was to meet the pharaoh. As she glided down the halls, she did not fail to see the pale-haired son of the head scribe, lingering a little ways from her doorway. And though she showed no sign of it, she knew the way his eyes followed her. She refused to allow herself a second glance at him, though, despite the feelings that tugged at her heart. She had heard the slave girls chattering one evening. The rumors claimed she would be the next addition to the pharaoh's harem. He was still young, and his collection of wives was yet small: only about six women plus his high queen. In any case, if the whispers were true, any sign of interest in the scribe's son could be fatal for the boy.
The day passed uneventfully, although she noticed the pharaoh did seem to have his eyes on her more than usual. She feigned indifference and did not break her proper court façade. That night, though, she could not sleep. Restless, she went and stood on her balcony, gazing up at Nut, the sky goddess, and her star-jeweled body arching over the earth. Nut had known sorrow, too, parted ever from her lover the earth. But it wasn't sorrow yet that the girl on the balcony felt. The emotions were not strong enough yet…or perhaps they were and she did not know it.
A noise of scrambling broke her flow of thought. She turned sharply to come face to face with the scribe's son. "Malik!" she gasped. "What are you-"
"Asenath," he said suddenly. "I wanted…I wanted to talk to you."
"Why? We've never talked before."
"Just once," he said softly. "I hear that the pharaoh…he favors you, shall we say."
"What does it matter?"
"I wanted to speak with you face to face…just once. You've always been there in my life and around the palace, but never really a part of all I knew…"
She turned away, her long hair swishing softly. "You'd leave now if you knew what was good for you, boy," she said.
"Asenath…"
"Go, Malik. If they catch you…"
"I know."
"Well?"
"All right then," he said finally. "I just wanted to talk to you…once."
She turned to reply, but he was gone.