Atem was grateful when a cloud rolled in front of the sun, casting a soothing shadow over the palace courtyard. It was hard enough to concentrate on Mahad's lesson without having to wipe sweat from his brow every five seconds.

Though Atem and Mahad were sitting face-to-face, neither could see the other, as both of their ka were hovering between them. Today's lesson was one of meditation and concentration — the object was to keep a ceramic pot suspended in the air using only the will of one's ka.

Atem found the exercise surprisingly hard. It was one thing to order his ka to perform a spell it had long since perfected, but another thing entirely to keep a consistent connection to the Magician's Apprentice using nothing but his thoughts. Atem found himself opening one eye every now and then to see his Apprentice's shoulders quivering and the pot in front of him wobbling. Meanwhile, the pot in front of the Magician of Illusion was as steady as a statue.

Atem thought he saw Mahad leaning over to check on him, so he quickly closed his eyes again and focused even harder. He was able to maintain his concentration for another moment more before the air broke with a high-pitched squeal, like fingernails down the strings of a lyre.

"E—EE!"

Atem opened his eyes as the sound grew louder, just in time to see a blur of white and brown colliding with him and knocking him flat on the ground. He heard the sound of a pot shattering, and he looked down to see the mass of brown and white was in fact Mana, his childhood friend and fellow student of Mahad's, lying sprawled on top of him and squeezing his neck. Struggling for breath, he turned his head up to see the curious faces of the Apprentice, Mahad and his Magician all peering down at him.

"Mana," he wheezed, "you're crushing me."

With another high-pitched noise, Mana finally released him and sat up. Atem did the same, rubbing the spot where his head had hit the ground.

"What's all this for?" he asked.

"How dare you!" she cried, then she punched his shoulder, hard. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to be married! I was down in the store rooms hiding in the wine pots, like I usually do, waiting to jump out and scare the servant master when all of a sudden I hear him talking to the groundskeeper about preparing for a wedding! So I'm thinking, is Tefnak taking a second wife? Then I thought, there's no way he could get two women to like him, so I jumped out — barely gave them any fright, I really hadn't gotten a chance to wait until the opportune moment, such a shame, you know — and I said 'who's getting married?' and they said 'the prince' and I said, 'what prince?' and they said 'prince Atem' and I nearly screamed because I thought, there's no way Atem would forget to tell me he was getting married! So I went and found Tef and he told me it was true and so I came right here to get it straight from the horse's mouth! So, tell me everything! Who is she, where did you meet, what's she like, is she pretty, does she like magic—"

"Mana, slow down," Atem hissed, still rubbing his arm where she had punched him. "It's … a long story."

"Please, oh, please Atem, you simply must tell me every detail about her!"

Suddenly, Mahad stepped forward, casting them both in his shadow. "You were supposed to join us for training today, Mana," he said, pointing at her. "I don't see why the prince should have to tell you anything when you can't even bother to show up for your lessons."

Mana suddenly fell into a prostrate bow before Mahad. "I'm sorry, Master, I promise I'll scrub the bathhouse floors for a week! Just tell me, tell me, tell meee—"

"Alright, Mana," Atem chided. "But first, let's get out of the heat."

Atem stood and dispersed his ka, Mahad following suit, and the three of them meandered into the adjacent gardens to recline under a tall palm tree.

Atem cleared his throat, avoiding Mana's and Mahad's eyes. "Her name is Satiah," he said quietly. "And she's the daughter of the nomarch of Ineb-Hedj — well, the former nomarch." Atem glanced to Mana, who still looked eagerly expectant. "And… That's about all I know of her."

Mana's brow knit. "Huh?" After a moment of thought, her face lit up. "Oh, I see. It was love at first sight, wasn't it? How romantic!"

Atem looked to Mahad, who offered a wincing smile.

"Not … quite," Atem went on. "You see, Mana… It's an arranged marriage."

"WHA—AT?" she cried. "Arranged marriage?! That's not fair! Tefnak was able to marry for love. Why don't you get to?"

"Tefnak had the luxury of marrying during peacetime," Mahad explained quietly. "Atem is not so lucky. The nomarch of Ineb-Hedj rebelled against the king — and lost. To reestablish peace, the Pharaoh demanded his daughter's hand in marriage."

Mana's eyes began to well with tears. "D-demanded? But … that's so cruel!" she sobbed. "Atem, you simply can't marry her. Not if you don't love her!"

Atem's heart sank as he looked upon his weeping friend. Her innocence was tragically pure. Even still, her words seemed clearer and wiser than any he had received from his family or their advisors up to this point. Since hearing the news, Atem had been constantly preoccupied with how Satiah must be feeling — but he never considered how he might feel toward her. Atem was fairly certain he'd never been in love before — admittedly, he'd felt attraction, and he'd met many women of the court who had tried to charm him with their sensuous words and half-lidded gazes. But he wasn't sure he'd even recognize real, true love if he felt it.

Atem cleared his throat and reached out to touch Mana's shoulder. "I'm afraid I don't have a choice, Mana," he said. "But I do have hope that we will come to care for one another over time. And you can even help me in that endeavor, you know."

Mana rubbed her eyes and sniffed, looking up at him. "H-how?"

"It is likely Satiah will not know anyone when she arrives," he explained. "She will need friends if she is to find happiness in her new home. Good friends, who can cheer her up when she's feeling down. And there's no one I know who is better at that than you."

Mana's watery face lit up with a half-hearted smile. "O-okay, then," she said. "I'll try."

"Good," Atem confirmed. He paused, unsure of how to broach the next subject. "But Mana … there's something else you must know about the princess-to-be."

Mana blinked up at him.

"There was one other term to the nomarch's surrender." Atem glanced to Mahad, who nodded encouragingly. "Satiah and her father had to forfeit their ka before coming to Thebes."

Mana's eyes filled with tears again. "You mean…"

"Satiah can no longer cast magic," Atem confirmed.

To his surprise, Mana's face did not sink deeper into despair, but rather set with conviction. "You're right then," she said, blinking her tears away. "The princess will need a true friend. I won't let you down, Atem. I promise."

The thick scent of frankincense filled Atem's nose, distracting him from his prayer. He'd already started it over three times since he'd knelt before the statue of Osiris, tucked into the darkened corners of the prayer hall in the Temple of Karnak. Opening one eye, Atem looked over to his left to see his brother struggling through his own prayer, his fingers currently occupied toying with a stray flower on the ground.

The two of them had come to pray in the temple at least once a week for as long as Atem could remember, as part of a promise they had made to their mother on her deathbed. "Pray together," she had said, with tears in her eyes. "Always together."

And so they did, never having missed a week in over a decade. It was a way for them to connect, as brothers — to enjoy what was left of their youth, and briefly shirk the responsibilities their royal titles often levied upon them. They would walk side by side along the raised promenade from the palace to the temple, joking about the latest silly thing to happen at court, or discussing which gods they would pray to. Tefnak almost always chose Horus, the god of the sky and the protector of Egypt. As the heavenly manifestation of the Pharaoh, Tef saw himself in Horus, hoping to one day inherit the god's bravery and might.

Atem almost never chose the same deity twice in a row. When he needed reassurance, he might go to Hathor or Bastet; when he was feeling artfully inspired, he might go to Ptah or Thoth. Today, with the thought of marriage looming over him, Osiris seemed the most appropriate. As holy father and husband, surely Osiris would be able to offer some wisdom to guide him through the upcoming weeks.

But Atem feared if he had to start his prayer over again, Osiris would simply strike him down out of annoyance. Hurriedly, he mouthed his way through the rest of it — asking for patience, wisdom and the like — then bowed his head and stood. When he turned, Tef was already standing as well, bouncing his foot distractedly.

"Did Osiris heed your prayer, brother?" Tef asked, turning to walk side by side with Atem. Even in his near whisper, Tef's words reverberated off the high ceiling. Thankfully, the hall had been mostly cleared of other patrons by the city guard ahead of the princes' arrival. Only a few shadows moved between the statues, mainly servants and priests.

Atem made a short noise in reply. "I suppose we'll see."

"What did you pray for?" Tef prodded, throwing his arm around Atem's shoulder. "A strong stomach to hold your wine during the wedding feast? Or perhaps the vitality to make it through the night?"

Atem flushed, but his thoughts were drawn away from the conversation at the feel of something cold touching his feet. Stepping away, he looked down to see a small puddle of water rising up, then receding into the cracks in the floor.

"Apologies, my prince," came a soft voice from a few feet away. Atem looked over to see a servant woman on her knees with a bucket of water beside her. Even in the dark, Atem could tell she was beautiful — dark-skinned with honey-colored eyes, a full-lipped smile, and tightly woven braids that hung down to her waist.

"No need," Atem replied, returning her smile. They held each other's gazes for a while — long enough for Tef to take notice, who soon grabbed Atem by the shoulder and pulled him along again.

"Vitality, indeed," Tef muttered. "A shame you have to be married so soon. Now is the time you should be sowing your wild oats."

Atem stole a glance over his shoulder at the servant woman as he and Tef turned toward the exit of the temple. "It is what it is," Atem replied, shielding his eyes as Ra's gaze welcomed them back into the open air.

Tef pulled his arm back and pushed Atem's shoulder in jest. "You always were too serious," he said. "You need to lighten up — go blow off some steam. Especially before you're forced to put on a show for that sour woman and her father."

"She's not sour," Atem chided.

Tef scoffed. "Did you hear the way she spoke to Father? 'It is not your words that offend us!'" He put his hand to his chest and rolled his eyes in mockery. "I feel sorry for you, little brother. She may be easy on the eyes, but I fear the venom of her tongue will outlast her beauty."

Atem forced a laugh, but Tef's harsh words lingered on his mind as they walked. He was grateful the gods had seen fit to match Tefnak with Nebetah — she was patient and gentle, everything Tef was not. Atem was afraid to imagine Tef trying to contend with a spirited woman like Satiah, and it led Atem to wonder how he himself would manage to find common ground with her. It was a thought that often invaded his mind lately, ever since his father had granted his permission for them to meet before the wedding. Atem had spent the last few days trying to plan what he would do when she arrived — thinking of ways to make her feel welcome in a place that was sure to feel almost like a foreign country to her. He wondered now if it wouldn't have been easier to delay their meeting until the wedding night, like his father had done.

"Well, you still have another week of freedom before they arrive," Tef went on. "You'll have to make the most of it."

Atem let out a deep sigh when he finally crossed the threshold to his bedchamber. It had been a long day — between lessons with Mahad, walking the city with Tef, and somehow finding time for a meal here and there, Atem was ready for a warm bath and a good night's rest. He had already asked the servant master to draw the water, but it would be some time before it would be warm enough to use. While he waited, he busied himself with removing his adornments — his circlet, his golden collar, earrings and bangles — placing them on his bureau, along with his cloak and tunic.

He kicked his feet out of his sandals and walked barefoot across the room to one of the two large, open windows overlooking the gardens and the west bank of the Nile beyond. Ra's light was now only a strip along the horizon, his dying rays beckoning Khonsu's moonlight out from behind the clouds to shine upon Egypt. The thought made Atem sleepy, so he reclined on the padded bench beneath the window and closed his eyes, listening to the chirping of birds and trickling of water in the gardens below.

It seemed only a moment later when a soft hand fell upon his shoulder, jolting him out of his dozing slumber. Atem drew in a deep breath and turned his head to look upon a familiar face standing over him.

It was the servant woman — the same one who had been scrubbing the floors in the Karnak prayer hall earlier that day.

"I'm sorry to wake you, my prince," she breathed, her hand still heavy on his shoulder.

For a moment Atem thought he was dreaming. It seemed odd that one of the servants from Karnak would suddenly be in the palace — and in his bedchamber, no less. He figured she had come to fetch him for his bath, but he had never seen her among the bathhouse staff before, and she was not dressed like one either.

"You," he said, somewhat more accusing than he'd meant to.

She smiled, and her beauty arrested him momentarily — her sand-colored eyes shining in the moonlight. Just then, she turned her body to sit on the bench beside him, and the sudden closeness caused Atem to draw himself up onto his elbows. She kept light pressure on his shoulder, however, preventing him from fully sitting up.

"I've never seen you in the palace before," he remarked, swallowing down a knot in his throat.

The woman smiled wider and shook her head, lowering her hand a bit until it was resting squarely in the center of his chest. "Your brother sent me," she whispered, curling her fingers down until her nails were tickling his flesh.

Atem sucked in another deep breath, his arms beginning to quake from supporting his weight.

"He wanted to see if I could … be of service." Her fingers traveled lower still, and instinctively, Atem snapped his own hand out to stop her, causing her to jump a bit. He had not meant to startle her, but he was grateful to be released from the spell of her touch all the same.

"What is your name?" he asked, rising to sit up against the arm of the bench.

"Ibi, my prince."

"Ibi," he said, releasing her hand. "I'm sorry, but I believe you've misunderstood my brother's intent. I apologize if he has offended you."

"No apologies are necessary, my prince," she said. "I am here of my own free will. I seek only to give you comfort in your time of need…" She reached her hand out again, this time walking her fingers up his wrist and forearm. "Your brother tells me you are anxious of your upcoming wedding," she went on, slipping her fingers over the soft flesh at his inner arm. "And that you are … relatively inexperienced."

Atem cursed his brother's meddling, but the embarrassment he felt was soon clouded again by the thrill of Ibi's touch. He made no move to stop her this time as she stroked her fingers down to his hand, taking it in hers and turning it over.

"I could help you," she whispered, lowering her head until it was inches away from his. "I could teach you the ways of a woman's body…" She pulled his hand up, then laid it on her thigh, which sat exposed to the night air through a slit in her dress. "About all the valleys and ridges … and how to explore their pleasures." She guided his hand higher now, until it was resting on the curve of her hip, and Atem found his fingers curling, unbidden, down into the warm flesh. "That is … if you'll have me."

With each passing moment, the scale of virtue in his heart was tipping ever more toward the temptation of sin. He knew it would be unwise to accept such an offer, but in all his years he had never felt such exhilaration, radiating like a soft pulse from his very core. It thrilled him to think of living in this single moment for once, and forsaking all the ones that would come after.

And so, Atem resolved not to think anymore. He leaned up, raising his other hand to snake around the small of Ibi's back, and he tugged so that she fell against him, her arms coming to steady herself against his chest. He looked up at her through heavily lidded eyes, her own honeyed gaze flicking back and forth across his face. They were so close their noses almost touched, and Atem could feel the hot sweetness of her breath against his lips. Gently, he lifted one hand to cradle her face, then slipped it back behind her head and brought her lips to his, kissing her with a passion he didn't even know he had.