Peace.

That was what Satiah felt — wrapped in her husband's arms, skin against skin, heart against heart. With a long sigh, she ran her fingers across Atem's chest, tracing the line of his clavicle and drawing circles on his bronzed skin. He lifted his own hand and laid it over hers, bringing it to his lips to kiss the top of it. At this, Satiah tilted her chin up and looked into his eyes — deep and calm as the night sky that stretched across the heavens outside their window.

It was strange to think that only hours earlier, they'd been staring into the face of a god, unsure if they would ever see that sky again. Now, such fears were no more than a shadow in her mind, eclipsed instead by the warm glow of joy — and love. Oh, how far they'd come, she thought. And how much more they had to look forward to.

"Where are your thoughts wandering?" he asked, releasing her hand to stroke his thumb across her lips.

Satiah smiled and drew her free hand up to rest her chin on it, continuing to trace lightly over his shoulder with the other. Against her better judgment, she let slip the curiosity perched on the tip of her tongue: "Atem, have you ever been in love before?"

His eyebrows lifted, and he pulled in a deep breath. Satiah felt herself rising and falling with the swell of his chest. A silence took hold, and she lost his gaze to the pull of the sky, though his expression remained measured as he flicked his eyes from star to star. "Once," he said finally. "Or at least… I thought I was."

Satiah made a low noise. "It was the servant woman — from the temple. Wasn't it?"

Again, surprise played across his features. But it was muted — charmed. "How did you know?"

Satiah grinned. "You are always subtle, my dear — except when you're trying to be."

A red tinge flared on his cheeks, his eyes dancing away in shame.

At this, Satiah reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his face, summoning his gaze back to her. "I don't begrudge you," she said. "Nor her. She helped make you into the man you are today. And for that, I thank her."

The soft arch of his brows lowered, creasing pensively. He then leaned up, cradling her cheek to draw her in for an adoring kiss. When he lowered his head back to the pillow, Satiah was happy to see him smiling again.

He took another steep breath. "What about you, then? Has any man ever captured your heart?"

Satiah hissed a wry laugh. "Oh, I thought I was in love with every boy I kissed from the moment I knew what kissing was." She giggled again at the skeptical look on her husband's face. "It's the natural consequence when you've had no mother to tell you to stop flirting all the time and a father who turned a blind eye to it. It actually took admonishment from my mentor to get me to finally change my ways." Satiah sighed wistfully thinking about her youth. She could still picture Jahar's severe stare from the last time she'd been caught necking with a classmate behind the temple. "He used to say, 'Sati, if you don't stop chasing boys, you'll never become a high priestess.' I suppose he was right, in a way."

When Satiah returned her eyes to Atem, he was looking rather guilty again. "I didn't know you wanted to be a high priestess," he said, holding tenuously to her upper arm. "I thought you — and your father—"

Satiah tilted her head. "My father and I don't see eye to eye on everything, you know," she said. "It may seem hard to believe, but I even encouraged him to seek peace with your family at first. I never wanted violence. And I don't think he did either. He was just … misguided."

Atem lowered his eyes, nodding once in understanding.

In the silence that followed, Satiah found her attention drawn to the bureau on the other side of the room, upon which sat the Millennium Pendant, gleaming softly in the light of a nearby candle. "The truth is, I do still fear the Items," she went on. She felt her husband's eyes on her, but her gaze remained mesmerized by the flame flickering along the planes of gold. "Perhaps even more now than I did before."

Just then, Atem cupped her cheek, guiding her gaze back to him. There was a certain earnestness in his eyes, as if he were trying to atone for a sin he hadn't yet committed.

Satiah sighed ruefully, leaning her head into his palm. "But it gives me hope," she said, "to know that a good man is wielding them. And hope is about the best thing we have right now."

Atem flashed a reserved smile, then slipped his fingers further behind her head to pull her in for another kiss, flaring to life a delicate glow between them. Satiah welcomed it, freeing herself to it, allowing herself to be turned over on her back, with Atem rising over her like a flame through tinder. They consumed one another in their passion, all wetted lips and tangled limbs, until Atem broke away unexpectedly.

Satiah looked up at her husband through half-lidded eyes, watching the way he studied every inch of her face as he held it in his hands.

"We have each other," he said.

Her heart smoldered in the wake of his words, and she pulled him eagerly down upon her again, wanting nothing more than to warm herself in his fire, over and over — forever if she could.

Hours later, as a new day dawned upon them, Satiah was left wondering whether she should thank the gods' grace, or the illuding darkness for bringing them together.

The weeks following their triumph at Menkaura's tomb passed in a whirlwind. Satiah spent most of her time working to translate the spells needed for the remaining two trials, while Atem attended to state business as needed. Busy as they were, they both went out of their way to make time for one another, taking evening walks in the garden or meeting in the temple pavilion for tea between court sessions.

Satiah was touched by her husband's near-unceasing desire to be near her — and his quiet reluctance to leave her side when duty called him. It was for this reason she found herself delighted when, two weeks on, Atem began asking her to attend court sessions with him, though only an "observer", he'd told her — where she could watch quietly from the gallery with the scribes and record-keepers.

Thankfully, Atem had inherited his father's level head and fair hand, but it was clear he still had a shine of greenness to him, which was only exacerbated by his lack of knowledge regarding the political landscape of Lower Egypt. During meetings with local leaders, his Guardians would hover over his shoulder, bending to whisper in his ear at every opportunity. Satiah knew the northern lords would not be amused by such theatrics, but so far they were maintaining their patience with the new king.

In truth, Satiah found it quite difficult to hold her tongue during some of the more awkward exchanges, but she continued to show up and support her husband, keeping herself thoroughly occupied by translating spells from her secluded corner of the gallery. After her fifth straight day of this, however, she found herself looking up from her work to see a familiar face entering the temple court hall.

It was Anuket — a childhood friend of Satiah's, and a fellow nomark's daughter. Anuket's father ruled over the Sapi-Res nome, whose capital, Khem, stood as the last harbor between the Nile and its fertile delta.

Upon seeing her friend striding purposefully into the hall, Satiah's heart first soared, then fell — if Anuket herself was coming to treat with the king, it did not bode well for the fate of her father.

She longed to rush out and throw her arms around her friend, but Satiah held back, watching as Anuket came to stand at the foot of the dais, where she stooped into a kneeling bow before the Pharaoh. Though it had only been two seasons since Satiah had last seen Anuket, it seemed almost everything about her was different in some way. At 30, Anuket was almost a full decade older than Satiah, but she now looked nearly twice that. Her auburn hair, which once flowed down past her waist, had been cropped up above her shoulders. She was dressed in lightweight leather armor, and she bore a small circular shield about her back and a long sword at her waist, which Satiah found even stranger than her new appearance — she had never known Anuket to wield weapons of war.

"My Pharaoh," Anuket said, rising from her bow. "Thank you for granting me an audience on such short notice."

Satiah felt a roil in her stomach as Aknadin suddenly leaned in to whisper to Atem, who turned to Anuket with a furrowed brow.

"Lady Anuket, daughter of Ahmose," he said. "My court tells me I was to expect a personal visit from the Nomark of Sapi-Res at today's meeting. Tell me, where is your father?"

"Ill, my king," Anuket replied. Satiah's stomach turned again. "A fever befell him unexpectedly."

Atem lifted his head a bit. "I'm very sorry to hear that, my lady," he said. "Please give my best to him upon your return."

"Thank you, Pharaoh," Anuket said. She opened her mouth to continue, but before she could, Aknadin leaned into Atem's ear again. Anuket flashed her eyes upward impatiently. "My king, I understand you are very busy, so let me speak plainly. I have come to once again ask for the crown's assistance in expelling the bandits who have been occupying the temple ruins across our nome."

Another whisper made its way to Atem's ear, this time from Seto. As the priest stepped away, Atem leaned back and cleared his throat. "My lady, is there any reason this meeting cannot wait until after your father has recovered?"

Satiah felt every bit of consternation that flickered on Anuket's face, though she seemed too appalled to even reply.

Atem must have sensed it too, as he looked to his Guardians once again, who were conveniently silent now. "I mean no offense … but my previous negotiations on this matter were made with your father — not you."

"I was not aware there was anything to negotiate," Anuket spat. "This is not some frivolous matter of coin or crop. My nome is under siege—"

Aknadin took a strong step toward the edge of the dais. "I advise the lady to watch her tone before her king—"

Without another thought, Satiah surged out of her chair, sending a loud scraping sound echoing through the hall. All eyes snapped to her, including Anuket's, which grew wide as Satiah stepped out of the shadows and came to stand at the foot of the dais.

"Sati?" Anuket breathed. Then, remembering herself, she bent steeply at the waist and sputtered: "My queen!"

Satiah smiled as Anuket straightened, her dark green eyes still as big as lily pads. "It's good to see you, old friend," she said, laying a hand on Anuket's shoulder to draw her in for a brief embrace. Again, Satiah saw Aknadin's shadow squirming over them, but he said nothing. "Such a shame about your father, Anuket," Satiah went on. "But he is too stubborn to let a fever slow him down. I trust he will be back on his feet by the time you return to Khem."

"Gods willing," Anuket said.

Satiah felt the heated eyes of the court searing into the side of her head, but she kept her own locked on Anuket. "Tell me more about this issue facing you and your nome."

Anuket put a hand to her heart and lowered her head. "My queen, for nearly a month now, the temple ruins all across our nome have been besieged by bandits," she said. "We have tried to push them back, and in some areas, local militia have succeeded in holding ground, but the bandits are persistent. I worry that they will soon begin striking at the surrounding towns and cities."

"I see," Satiah hummed. "Bandits in Lower Egypt are a ruthless bunch. I suspect you will need more than farmers wielding spears and arrows to subdue them. Have you considered deploying priests to support the militia?"

Anuket nodded. "We have, my queen, but our spellcasters are already spread quite thin," she said gravely. "The Khem Conclave has seen many … resignations in our ranks since your father—" She paused, flicking her eyes briefly up to the dais. "Since the changes here in Ineb-Hedj."

Satiah, too, let her eyes drift over her shoulder. Aknadin seemed even more incensed than usual, but she was surprised to see Atem looking rather piqued as well. "That simply won't do," Satiah said, upping the volume of her voice and turning to face the dais fully. "We cannot let our kin in the north be picked apart by bandits. Seto, put together a team of ten apprentice spellcasters, and send them back to Sapi-Res with Anuket and her convoy."

Immediately, Seto looked to his king. Atem's features were tight with unease, but he nodded curtly to Seto, who bowed and excused himself a moment later.

With a pleased smirk, Satiah turned back to Anuket.

"Thank you, my queen," Anuket said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"It is the least we can do," Satiah replied, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder again. "Could I convince you to stay the night before your journey back? You must be in need of some rest."

"I wish I could, my queen, but I shouldn't leave my father for longer than I need to," Anuket said. "I will depart with the apprentices as soon as they are ready."

Satiah nodded. "I understand completely." She drew her friend in for another embrace. "Please, travel safely, and give my love to your father."

"And mine to yours," Anuket said, pulling away. She turned to the dais and sank into another low bow. "A thousand blessings to you, my Pharaoh. Sapi-Res will not soon forget your generosity."

With that, Anuket nodded one last time to Satiah before whirling around and leaving the court hall.

Satiah smiled warmly after her friend, but when she turned back to the dais, she found her skin bristling with a chill. Atem had stood, but he kept his shaded eyes on her only for a moment before addressing the gallery. "That will be all for today's session," he announced. He then turned to Mahad and Aknadin, speaking to them in hushed tones while the scribes began rolling up their scrolls and gathering their belongings.

Satiah moved back into the shadows to do the same. Quickly, she packed away the Millennium Tome and the Codex, sealing them inside the lockbox with the cartouche key. As she moved to leave the court hall with the rest of the observers, she stopped upon sensing a presence at her back.

"Satiah, may I speak with you for a moment?"

She looked over her shoulder to see Atem's shadow looming over her, and more cold needles prickled along her skin again. She nodded her consent, then placed the lockbox back down and turned to face him fully, but he didn't meet her eyes until the murmurings of the scribes could no longer be heard from the hall beyond.

"I understand that Anuket is your friend," he started, choosing his words very deliberately. "And I know you meant well with your actions…"

Satiah bit her tongue, waiting for the contingency.

"But I do not believe it wise for you to speak out of turn like that in front of the court."

Satiah drew her shoulders up in scorn. "Is that truly how you feel, or are you merely playing puppet for your Guardians once again?"

Atem's brow furrowed incredulously, as if he had been expecting her to be thankful for his unsolicited advice.

"I suppose you would prefer me to be forever silent," Satiah snapped. "Another trophy for you to vault up next to your captured god."

Atem hissed a sigh. "Satiah, you know I value your thoughts," he said, though his tone was hardly reassuring. "But when you make promises to your friends without consulting me first, you risk undermining my authority."

"Undermining?" Satiah repeated, her tongue lashing sharply across each syllable. "Is that what you call it when someone tries to help you?"

He worked his jaw, and Satiah could see the sinew moving precariously in his neck and over his temple. "If I felt I needed your help, I would have asked for it."

"Really?" Satiah spat, her voice thinning in the tight grasp of anger. "Because there have been a great many things you have not asked of me since the start of our marriage, and yet I have done them just the same."

He shook his head lightly, almost disbelievingly, his lips parting as if to speak, but the only thing he could do was draw in a hitched breath. Satiah's heart fluttered between spite and guilt, though she fought hard to keep the latter from showing on her features.

Before either of them could utter another word, the clatter of footsteps consumed the hall. Atem was first to turn his head, and almost immediately, he became stoic king once more.

Clenching her teeth, Satiah looked over her shoulder to see Mahad jogging up, breathless.

"Your highnesses," he panted, "come quickly. There's trouble at the gates."

AN: Man it's tough swinging from highs to lows, isn't it? But I really enjoy exploring these many sides of Atem and Satiah, and I hope you do too! There's lots more excitement to look forward to in the coming chapters, so thanks to my readers for sticking with me through it all!