Satiah's second night in Thebes proved much more restful than the first. She awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed, leading her to wonder if she would have even roused at all had sunlight not reached her face. Fighting a full-body stretch, she rose and crossed the room to the window, where down in the garden she spied the dial of the time-keeping obelisk already approaching the eleven o'clock hour. A jolt of surprise shot through her — she must have slept even better than she first thought.
With a sigh, she retreated from the window and made for the door that adjoined her room to her handmaiden's. She knocked twice, and a moment later, Tuya answered, looking bright and cheery. "Good morning, my lady," she said. "You're looking well-rested."
Satiah tempered a smirk, then moved away and sat at her nearby vanity; Tuya followed, closing the door behind her. "I couldn't believe it myself," Satiah said, cupping her hands in the cool water of the washing basin and splashing it on her face.
"Could it be that you're finally settling in here?" Tuya asked. She took up a comb and squared herself behind Satiah, beginning to work out the night's tangles.
Satiah just shrugged. She picked up a bronze hand mirror, catching sight of another knowing smile cracking on Tuya's lips. Keen to avoid her handmaiden's curious gaze, Satiah busied herself by picking up a thin paintbrush and dipping it into a pot of black ink, then lifting it to her eyes.
"How has it been getting to know the prince?" Tuya prodded, and Satiah almost jabbed herself in the eye with the brush. She shot Tuya a glare in the mirror, then continued painting the ink along her lash line.
"Fine, I suppose," Satiah said between brushstrokes. "He's not particularly … talkative."
"Well, neither are you," Tuya shot back, yanking hard on a thick knot. "You two should get along swimmingly."
Satiah was momentarily insulted by Tuya's cheek, but she knew her handmaiden was right. If she could find it in herself to open up to the prince, it would certainly go a long way to making things easier on herself. Still, Satiah was resistant, if only on principle alone — it would take more to woo her than simply arranging a new profession for her father, especially when the royals had been the ones to strip him of his title in the first place.
Tuya soon finished coiffing Satiah's hair, then set about assembling her outfit for the day. After Satiah put the finishing touches on her makeup, she stepped into the dress that had been set aside for her. Tuya belted it with a sash and pinned on a neckpiece before standing back to inspect her work.
"Beautiful," she said. "That reminds me — the royal dressmakers asked if you'd like to view their stock of gowns this afternoon. What should I tell them?"
Satiah rolled her eyes. "I'd rather eat camel dung."
"That's what I figured," Tuya said, smiling wider. "I'll pick something out for you, but you should still come by in the evening for a fitting." Satiah nodded her acceptance, and Tuya patted her shoulders. "I believe the servants made up a breakfast plate for you on the terrace, if you'd like."
Satiah took a deep breath — she hadn't noticed how hungry she'd become. "Perfect," she said. "Thank you, Tuya."
Her handmaiden bowed her head and excused herself, disappearing through the door back to her suite. Satiah left her room as well and swept purposefully down the hall toward the terrace. She was surprised when in addition to the plate of food, her father was also waiting for her at the table, sipping idly on hot tea while reading from a papyrus in front of him. He looked up and smiled as she approached.
"I was afraid I'd have to come douse you in cold water soon," he said.
Satiah concealed a smirk and moved to stand over him, reaching to grab a date from a tray in the center of the table. While she chewed the sweet fruit, she peered curiously down at the papyrus her father was reading.
Metjen leaned back and turned it so she could see it clearer. "A summons — I am to meet with the head scribe at Karnak this afternoon."
Satiah grabbed another date. "That was fast," she said. Her father must have picked up on her skepticism, as he peered up at her over the rim of his cup.
"Indeed. I have to say, I was surprised the Pharaoh held up his end of the bargain," he said. "Perhaps he knew I'd become a thorn in his side either way, and figured this would be the least vexing arrangement."
Satiah grinned, then grabbed a piece of bread and smeared it with butter. "Very likely." She meandered over to the edge of the balcony and peered out into the garden. Off to the side, beneath a shaded glade of palm trees, she spied the prince sitting at a table alone. He looked deep in thought, one hand drawn up beneath his chin. There was something on the table in front of him, but Satiah couldn't make it out from this distance. She took a bite of her bread, then turned back to her father. "Can I come with you? I'm looking for any excuse to get out of modeling gowns."
Metjen laughed. "You'll be at Karnak this afternoon, but not with me," he said, and Satiah felt her stomach lurch. "The Pharaoh's vizier has asked to direct both you and the prince in a rehearsal of the ceremony."
Satiah hissed an annoyed sigh. "I forgot." She shoved the rest of the bread in her mouth and turned to peer down at the prince again. It seemed as though he hadn't moved at all since she looked away.
"One could forgive you for that," her father chuckled, "but I do hope you'll at least try to take it seriously. A royal wedding is a holy sacrament, after all — and we could both use a bit of the gods' favor right now."
"Fine," Satiah agreed, coming back over to the table. She grabbed a sweet cake, then moved toward the stairs. "But I'm not wearing a girdle."
Her father nearly spit out his tea at this, choking back laughter while Satiah descended the steps into the garden. She munched absentmindedly on the cake as she ambled in the general direction of the prince. Eventually, a row of trees parted enough to allow a closer look. He was sitting so still Satiah would have thought he was asleep if not for his eyes darting pensively across the table. From her new vantage point, Satiah could now make out the object in front of him: a senet board, half its pieces already removed and set aside. She looked around, wondering if perhaps his opponent was somewhere nearby.
A moment later, the prince finally lifted his hand and cast the soapstone sticks into an empty spot on the table. He then reached across the board and moved a black piece two spaces ahead.
Bemused, Satiah emerged from her hiding spot, clearing her throat slightly to alert him to her presence. He jolted and turned, looking for a moment like a deer caught grazing, but his face quickly settled with a calm smile as she drew nearer.
"Senet," she said, peering down at his half-finished board. "A very tactical game. But, where is your opponent?"
Atem looked somewhat embarrassed just then, turning his face down to the board as well. "I'm playing myself, actually," he said quietly. "I slept late this morning, and all my usual opponents are indisposed at the moment."
Satiah raised her eyebrows in surprise — it took a special patience and acumen to play oneself in a game like senet. "Now I don't feel so bad for having slept in as well," she said, summoning the prince's eyes back to hers. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a strategist, but would you consider playing against me instead?"
Atem blinked at her, then gestured to the open seat across from him. Satiah took it, looking down at the table. It was a fairly even game, with only a handful of pieces of each color left on the board.
"Black or white?" the prince asked.
"Whichever one is losing."
Atem grinned, then picked up the throwing sticks and handed them to her. "White then. Your move."
Satiah rolled the sticks lightly in her palm, inspecting her playing field more closely. The black pieces currently occupied two unique houses, as well as a stronghold of three pieces in a row near the end of the board. She would not be able to remove any of her pieces without first breaking this wall. She tossed the sticks — two white sides up — then moved a fresh piece from the starting line into the first row.
The prince took up the sticks and threw them — three white sides up. With a smirk, he picked up a black pawn near the center of the board and moved it to land on the same space as one of her pieces already in play. He swapped them out and moved hers back to the starting row.
Satiah smiled. "Ruthless," she said, picking up the sticks and tossing them. It was a lucky throw, with all four black sides facing up. This let her move five spaces, which effectively made up the lost ground from the last turn, and she was allowed to throw again. After tumbling the sticks one more time, three white sides faced up. She moved a different piece, progressing it around a corner to the next row, then handed the sticks back to Atem.
He spilled them onto the table — two and two. Surprisingly, the prince chose to remove one of his pieces from the end of the board, breaking his defensive wall on the unique houses near the finish line. Satiah figured he must not be taking her seriously. She squinted at him and picked up the sticks again.
"I was told you were fond of games," she said offhandedly, throwing the sticks and making another seemingly innocuous move. "I must admit I found it a bit … unusual at first, but now I can see why."
Atem looked a bit abashed at this, but he smiled through it when he picked up the sticks again. "I've spent most of my life preparing to inherit the Millennium Ring from my brother, and his responsibilities along with it. But I've never been much of a warrior like Tefnak is." He paused and ran his fingers along the smooth stones in his palm. "I suppose it's easier for me to hone my skills through the art of games rather than in battle. You wouldn't know it, but they're surprisingly similar."
Satiah considered his words as he threw the stones and made his move. It was true, Atem hadn't stood out as a particularly strong fighter during their duel in Memphis — his ka displayed some interesting skills, but it likely would have been crushed in a one-on-one battle against any of its opponents that day. Still, she remembered with stark clarity the way he had sent his spirit into the line of fire to support his brethren — a move that took a very different kind of strength.
Satiah was surprised to find herself somewhat charmed by these thoughts. Clearing her throat to temper herself, she picked up the soapstone sticks and looked down to plan her next move. She was confused to see he had moved yet another of his pieces away from his stronghold, leaving just one lone piece four spaces away from the end, with two more still in the second row.
"And how do you feel about that burden?" she said. "Inheriting the Ring, I mean."
His face faltered with thought while Satiah tossed the sticks. She grinned at what turned out to be yet another lucky throw, then took up a white piece and moved to the space on the other side of his furthest pawn, putting her in striking distance of the end of the board.
When she looked up, she was surprised again to see Atem wearing a smile of his own.
"I don't consider it a burden," he said simply, taking up the sticks. He rolled them out onto the table, flashing her a quick glance before picking up one of his pieces in the second row. "It is an honor I'm very much looking forward to — and one of my life's many blessings."
Satiah felt a flare of blush at the words, and it grew even deeper when she looked up to see his veiled smile remained. But she realized, much too late, that it had nothing to do with the topic of discussion: he set his piece down on the board, and Satiah dropped her eyes to see the black pawn now rested in the unique House of Water, whereas the piece she had moved in her previous turn was positioned in the House of Rebirth. These two houses were linked in such a way that Atem was now allowed to swap places with her piece, sending his last pawn to very near the end of the board, and hers back to the second row.
Satiah bit her lip to keep her blush from spreading further. It seemed Atem had been dismantling his stronghold very much on purpose — in an attempt to bait her into landing on Rebirth and giving him an opening to strike back. This left him with all three of his remaining pieces in the third row, and her five scattered across the first and second. She didn't know whether to be flattered or irked that he had, in fact, been taking her seriously the whole time.
She reached over to take up the sticks, but as she did, a shadow cut across her. Turning, she saw the Pharaoh's vizier, Shimon, approaching with a cheery smile on his face.
"There you are," he said, coming to stand beside the table. "I've been searching high and low for you two. Come — Karnak awaits!"
By the time they'd finished their third rehearsal of the ceremony, Satiah was beginning to feel desperately tired. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open as she knelt before the statue of Iset, her senses burdened with the heavy scent of burning incense and Atem droning on through a prayer beside her. Her eyes flew open only when she heard the vizier clear his throat, causing her to straighten up and mutter through her half of the prayer.
When she finished, she and the prince stood, linked arms, and turned to walk back down the main aisle of statues. Shimon clapped after they took a few steps, leading Satiah to relax and slip her arm gratefully out of the prince's.
"Well done, well done," the vizier said, coming to pat them both on the shoulder. "Satiah, I wouldn't mind if you projected a bit more, and Atem… I noticed you missed a few words after 'hear our prayer'…"
Satiah couldn't help but doze off again as the old man gave Atem notes on his recital. Shimon turned and pointed back at the statue, giving Satiah a window to slip away mostly unnoticed. She moved down a nearby aisle, following a pillar of light that was coming in from a west-facing doorway. She passed through it and entered into an open courtyard, filling her lungs with cool evening air. Escaping from the flood of incense helped to reinvigorate her senses a bit.
A familiar voice caught her ear, and she turned to see her father standing on the other side of the courtyard, speaking with a man dressed in regal robes — the head scribe, she figured. A moment later, they shook hands, and Satiah felt her heart soar. Her father then caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to her with a smile spreading on his features.
"Hello, Lady Satiah!"
She jolted and spun, meeting a pair of bright eyes emerging from the doorway behind her. Mana stepped into the light, wearing her familiar sunny smile.
"Hello, Mana."
"I've been sent to fetch you for the fitting of your bridal gown," Mana chirped. "Aren't you just bursting with excitement? You're going to look so pretty!"
Satiah had to fight the urge to roll her eyes again, hiding it by looking over her shoulder at her father, who had since started walking side by side through the courtyard with the head scribe. With no viable escape, she turned back to Mana and forced a smile. "Lead on, then."
Mana squealed, whirled around and started skipping back through the prayer hall, Satiah close behind. Mana stopped to speak briefly with Atem and Shimon, informing them of Satiah's pressing business, then headed for the exit.
Once outside, Mana stopped to let Satiah catch up. Her grin took up almost all of her rosy cheeks. "I tried to steal a peek at the gown they'd picked out for you, but they wouldn't let me," she whined as they strode purposefully down the promenade. "I think it's green — or maybe red. Which would you prefer?"
Satiah chewed her tongue. "Either would be nice."
"Me — I'd want purple. Or blue! To go with the gold headdress! Have you seen it? It's simply stunning! A shame you're only allowed to wear it on your wedding day, right?"
"Indeed," Satiah lied.
"Do you have any special jewelry you're going to wear? I have a pair of earrings I can lend you. They're not much, but my mother gave them to me. She'd simply faint from joy if she saw you wearing them."
Satiah smiled — genuinely. "I'd like that, Mana. Thank you."
"Mhm!" For the first time since they'd left, Mana stopped speaking for a moment. She peered curiously over at Satiah. "I saw you and Atem playing senet in the garden earlier. Who won?"
"Nobody," Satiah replied. "We didn't get to finish. But he had me in a tight spot, that's for sure."
"Yeah, he's so good at senet. I don't even play him anymore because he beats me before I even get all my pieces out of the first row. It's so embarrassing."
"You just have to keep practicing," Satiah encouraged. "Or … maybe just trick him with some of that lovely magic you showed me."
Mana laughed bashfully. A moment later, they passed through the palace's first pylon.
"He's quite the tactician, isn't he?" Satiah said. "I guess in that regard, it helps that he's so quiet."
"Yeah." Mana's tone became suddenly more sullen. "He used to be really silly when we were kids, but he kind of changed after his mother died. I think he still gets sad about it sometimes."
Satiah felt a pang of commiseration at this, which grew deeper when she thought back to her meeting with the queen's ka.
When they entered the palace proper, they found the High Priestess Isis waiting for them just inside, who gave them both a serene smile.
"Thank you for fetching Lady Satiah for me, Mana," she said. "You can go back to your studies now."
Mana groaned. "But I want to see the gown!"
Isis gave her a disapproving look. "You can see it tomorrow, along with the rest of the court," she said. "Now, hurry along — Mahad is waiting."
Mana rolled her eyes and trudged off toward the gardens. Satiah smiled after her.
"I appreciate you leaving your rehearsal early," Isis said, leading the way further down the hall; Satiah followed. "The dressmakers want to give themselves enough time to make adjustments."
"Not a problem," Satiah replied. They turned a corner and climbed a set of stairs toward the servant's quarters.
"Less than a day now until you are married. How are you feeling?" Isis probed.
Satiah looked into the woman's misty blue eyes, and for some reason it seemed as though Isis already knew exactly how she was feeling. "Excited," she lied. "It is the honor of my life to join the royal family."
Isis broke a soft smile. "Good," she said, then turned into a nearby doorway. Inside was a tall, warmly lit room, its floor a maze of looms, furniture, and wooden mannequins, all draped with fine fabrics and accessories. Here and there, seamstresses and dressmakers worked diligently to assemble various garments. At the center of the room was a low dais, around which a few women were currently clustered. One of them, an older woman wearing a finely crafted blue-green dress and a heavy gold necklace, turned as Isis and Satiah approached, her face lighting up with a smile.
"You must be the Lady Satiah," the woman said with a steep bow. "It is an honor to meet you. I am Amunet, head seamstress of the royal house."
Satiah nodded to the woman.
"Amunet has been with the royal family for nearly thirty years," Isis explained. "She has dressed every lady of the court since Aknamkanon's own wedding. You are in good hands."
"I must admit, my girls and I have been looking forward to this day for a long time," Amunet confessed. "There are so few women of the court getting married these days."
Satiah smiled, feeling somewhat guilty she had tried to shirk this meeting earlier.
"I understand you are very busy — your handmaiden came by earlier to narrow down our selection," Amunet continued. "Would you care to look at the final choices?"
Satiah nodded, then followed as Amunet led the way to the other side of the dais, where tucked behind a privacy screen stood two mannequins draped with gowns. Amunet came to stand beside the first one — a well-crafted but simple linen frock, the fabric as white as a cloud.
"This is a more traditional gown," Amunet explained. "The queen herself wore something similar on her wedding day."
Satiah approached and ran her fingers across the fabric, pulling up the layers to inspect the construction. It had a form-fitting slip beneath a frilly, pleated overdress — she knew just by looking at it she wouldn't make it three steps down the promenade before sweating through the layers.
Amunet must have sensed her hesitance, as she gestured to the next mannequin. There, Satiah's eyes were met with fabric in a striking shade of scarlet. This dress, too, had a plain white skirt as the base layer, but the plunging neckline was enhanced with twists and gathers of rare red silks. As Satiah circled it, she smiled upon noticing it was almost backless, with only two red sashes draping from the thin shoulder straps all the way to the floor. If nothing else, this one would be much more comfortable than the white one.
"I first designed this gown for Princess Nebetah's wedding, but she ended up choosing a different one," Amunet explained. When Satiah looked at her, the woman was wearing a knowing smile. "Would you like to try it on?"
Satiah returned the smile and nodded. Amunet snapped her fingers, and a moment later two servants came to carefully remove the dress from its form. Satiah was then corralled behind the privacy screen, where the servants quickly undressed her and helped her into the gown. Even without seeing her reflection, Satiah could feel how well the garment was crafted, draping from her curves as if it were made for her. Once pinned in, the servants guided Satiah back out from behind the screen and up onto the dais in the center of the room. There, she turned her eyes up to see Isis and Amunet looking at her with curious smiles.
"What do you think, Isis?" Amunet asked.
The priestess sighed whimsically. "Stunning."
Amunet smiled wider and turned over her shoulder. "Mirror!" she barked, and a moment later two more servants emerged from the shadows of the room carrying a heavy, floor-length bronze mirror. When they managed to drag it over and prop it up in front of Satiah, her jaw dropped. A patchwork of emotions began to weave itself in her heart — awe at the near-perfect fit, confidence to see her curves on display for once, but a bit of uncertainty in the same vein. If she had been a fuller woman, she thought it might have been slightly too revealing.
Amunet came up and began to fiddle with various parts of the dress. "We'll have to take it up," she muttered to her assistant, who followed with a papyrus in hand. "An inch and a half ought to do it."
While Satiah stared frozen at her reflection, the swell of pride she felt slowly began to fall into fear. It seemed as if someone else were looking back at her in the blurry mirror — a person she'd seen a million times before, but never once met. This person had a deep sorrow in their eyes, as if she were trying to connect with Satiah, to make her voice heard, but she couldn't reach beyond the polished plane that trapped her.
Suddenly, Isis stepped up beside the mirror, drawing Satiah's eyes away from it. "Amunet, would you excuse us for a moment?" she said. Without a word, Amunet stopped her fiddling, bowed, and swept away with her servants.
Satiah was surprised to find herself fighting tears as Isis climbed the dais to stand beside her. For a while, they simply looked at one another in the distorted reflection.
"How are you really feeling, my lady?" Isis finally asked.
Satiah choked back the knot in her throat. "Frightened," she confessed, turning to the priestess.
Isis smiled softly. "I know," she said. "But I'm here to tell you that you don't have to be."
It was odd, but as Satiah fell deeply into the pools of the woman's eyes — she believed her.
"Your mother died on the birthing bed, didn't she?" Isis continued, and Satiah felt an unexpected wave of sorrow wash over her. She nodded once. "I never knew my mother either."
Satiah looked back at her reflection, and found it suddenly more familiar.
"It can be difficult to navigate this world as a woman without maternal guidance," Isis continued. "Sometimes it feels like we don't know who to trust — who to let in. We have lived our whole lives in a man's world, and they have grown accustomed to stepping on our shoulders in pursuit of their ambitions." Isis turned and put herself between Satiah and the mirror. "The circumstances which brought you to our house are drenched in darkness," she went on. "But I want you to know that your future is so much brighter."
Isis reached out and took Satiah's trembling hands into hers.
"I know that nothing can replace a mother's wisdom, and you have no reason to believe the words I speak… But I promise you, my lady — you will know joy again."
AN: Dang! This chapter was a lot longer than I originally thought it would be! If you've made it this far, thanks so much for reading and hope you're enjoying. Leave a follow/fav/review if you are :)