A/N: I'm going to do my best to maintain my update schedule, but fair warning that the rest of my pre-written material is for way farther in the future of this fic, so it's going to be write as I go for a while.
Cleaned
Tiye swallowed hard as the Thief King pulled away from her, the intensity that came with his presence receding as he did so. Her skin prickled, and she felt horribly exposed with her dress gaping about her. The thought of taking it off was even worse, but there was no help for it. She clutched the dress she'd retrieved from the chest. It would be better once she'd put it on.
She resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder again. It was too much to hope the Thief King wasn't watching. She'd lost her privacy, along with her freedom, in that game. He'd already made that clear. She remembered his eyes, purple-gray and narrowed, watching her like a snake watched a mouse.
She just had to do it.
Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
Inhaling sharply, she tugged the loosened gown over her head in one swift movement. For an awful instant, she was bare to the skin, shivering in the stony chill of the vast chamber. Then, dropping the gown to the floor, she snatched up the new one and scrambled to pull it on. Her haste made her clumsy, and clumsiness made her mortifyingly slow, but at last she had it on. This dress was far simpler and looser than the court gown she had removed, and it didn't require any elaborate fastenings. Tiye cinched it around her waist with a cinnamon-colored sash, then turned, slowly, to face the Thief King's approval or disapproval.
He wasn't looking at her. He had gone over to where she had left the basin and cloth, and was currently occupied with mopping his face. So occupied that Tiye felt almost certain he really hadn't been watching her at all.
That was… unexpected.
Clasping her hands in front of her to regain her sense of balance, Tiye took a small step forward and cleared her throat. The Thief King's head jerked in her direction, and he let the cloth fall into the wash basin.
"Dressed, then?" His gaze raked over her. "I hope this one isn't going to require any servants to get out of. You're not a princess any more, Lotus."
Lotus. Her hands tightened. "I know that, master." The quick spark of anger was almost a relief. Anger was easy. Anger was warm and bright and clean. Anger was safe - so long as she knew how to keep it in check. "I will endeavor not to cause any more trouble in my dress. Now how may I serve you?"
The Thief King eyed her, but whatever his thoughts, he kept them locked behind an inscrutable expression. His face still looked raw from where he had scrubbed it, the pale scars standing out a little more than usual against his dark skin. Water dripped from the ragged edges of his white hair and trickled down the column of his neck. Perhaps it should have made him look approachable. It didn't. He looked feral, a wild thing somehow transported to a king's chamber.
Tiye lowered her eyes and tried to look a little more subservient. It wasn't wise to let herself be insolent, not when the Thief King held all the power - and not when she had so little understanding of the man. Unpredictability was dangerous.
"You can light the braziers and gather up the dirty linens before you go." He waved a hand dismissively at her.
Tiye hesitated. Was that really all? She'd thought… the way he had looked at her before, she had assumed…
"Menial work too good for you, Lotus?" A sneer curled his upper lip.
"No," she murmured immediately, then at the collar's swift tug added, "master." She bowed her head. "I'll begin at once."
It was easier said than done. Tiye had seen the braziers lit countless times, but she had never actually done it herself. After far too many minutes searching, she finally located the store of charcoal, discreetly tucked away in a reed basket in a corner of the ornate chamber. She added a small amount to each of the raised furnaces, and even added a little of the dried orange peel to each, just as Shenah had always done, so the room would be full of the sweet fragrance. But then, she hesitated. How was she supposed to light it?
Tiye was fairly certain that her attendants had always brought a flame with them. Usually, a lamp would be left burning in the antechamber. But as she looked around, Tiye couldn't see any evidence of any kind of lamp or flame in the chamber. Openings high along the eastward wall let in a dusting of morning sunlight, which reflected off the alabaster pillars and gilded furnishings to bathe the chamber in a dull, cold sort of glow. Dim, but not dark.
But there was no lamp, no flame, and no way Tiye could see that she could light a brazier.
Didn't people sometimes use flintstones for this? Tiye wiped black dust from her hands onto her skirt distractedly, as she tried to think where any such stones might be located in the king's chamber. Not that she would know how to use them if she found them. She supposed she could also go in search of a flame - surely other rooms in the palace had lamps burning - but the Thief King hadn't given her leave.
"For Zorc's sake." The Thief King's exasperated voice came from behind her. She turned to see him glaring at the still unlit brazier. His eyes flicked to hers, irritation clear, and then back to brazier. He muttered something that made the Ring on his chest suddenly flash with a bright light. Then, before Tiye had time to do anything but take a stumbling step back, the Thief King threw his fingers towards the brazier and a puff of orange flame leapt from them onto the charcoal.
"Heka," Tiye whispered, staring at the brazier as the charcoal caught fire. It shouldn't have shocked her as much as it did. She'd seen, on occasion, the royal magicians perform their spells. She knew they could do such things - and surely the man who had overthrown the entire Millennium Court could do so as well. It just hadn't ever occurred to her they might use their magic to perform menial household tasks.
"It seemed more expedient than continuing to let you putter around the room, hoping to find a flame tucked under a corner of the rug." The Thief King shrugged, drawing her eyes to the Ring at his chest. It was no longer glowing, but the sense of power and danger it exuded was impossible to ignore.
Tiye swallowed, suddenly thinking of Mahad, who had once worn the Ring. She hadn't known him well–she'd been too isolated from the inner Court circle for that–but she'd liked him. He'd taken his duties and responsibilities seriously, which she approved of, but more than that – and rarer than the power and skill for which he'd been known – he'd been kind.
And the Thief King had killed him.
A wave of dizziness washes over her, all the grief and sadness and fear that she absolutely cannot allow herself to feel swirling in its undercurrents. She balled her fists against it, willing it to wash back back out. Where is her anger, that strong, fierce glow?
"I trust you will manage this on your own in the future?" The Thief King's voice, sharp and mocking, cut through her thoughts, and she grabbed hold of it like a lifeline.
"Not if you expect me to do it that way." Tiye nodded at the dancing flame that filled the brazier's bronze cup. "Heka isn't something I've been trained in."
The Thief King snorted, "What did they train you for? Nothing useful as far as I've seen."
To be a beautiful ornament on the pharaoh's arm. To run a great household smoothly and seamlessly, so that the pharaoh would never suffer a moment's thought over it. To charm and soothe and flatter palace courtiers and self-important nobles. To make certain her part in any temple ritual or palace ceremony was completed flawlessly. To never be noticed at all, unless to reflect glory back to the pharaoh.
"No," Tiye said out loud. "Nothing useful."
Having gathered up the pile of dirty clothes - not much, not yet - for delivery to the palace laundry, Tiye found herself free of the Thief King for the first time since the evening before.
Well, not free. Her hand went to the golden collar at her neck. It was warm to the touch now, and the weight of it bothered her less than she might have feared. She was used to large, ornate pieces of jewelry, after all. But the collar was more than just a decoration, and more too than a symbol. Magic thrummed faintly but undeniably through it. It would compel her to obey the Thief King - she'd felt its force already - but it also connected her to him in a way she did not yet fully understand.
It also, she was beginning to realize, had separated her from everyone else.
Already, in the few minutes since she had left the royal apartments, she'd passed by several palace servants, along with more than one of the bandit thugs. She'd gotten looks from both—dressed so simply and carrying a load of laundry, she wasn't particularly recognizable—until they'd spotted her collar. The bandits' gazes slid off her rapidly, their open leers cooling into private smirks. That was relieving, though those smirks were still enough to make the tips of her ears burn. But the servants however… their curious looks of fellow-feeling dropped away immediately. They wouldn't look at her at all.
It wasn't as if most servants had struck up conversations with her in the hall back in her previous life as betrothed princess, she told herself after the third time it had happened. But it was different. She knew it was different. The averted eyes and lowered gazes didn't come from respect for royalty. Instead, she read guilt and shame in the quickly hidden expressions.
It was worse when she got to the laundry. It was too much to expect the servants there to treat her like any other palace domestic — for one thing, she only had the vaguest understanding of what she was actually supposed to do — but she hadn't been prepared for the pity.
"Let me have that, then" the matron said, voice too gentle, eyes too soft, as she'd reached for the small bundle of clothing. Tiye handed it over and stood there awkwardly as the woman went through each item. The kilts she handed over to a serving girl to be washed and starched and then ironed. Then, she lifted Tiye's gown from the night before and held the gossamer fabric to the light. "Such a pretty thing. We'll take special care with it. And no damage that I can see." She touched the delicate fastenings. "No rips and tears at all."
The words are well-meant, Tiye was sure, and not unkindly spoken, but after a second, when their meaning sank home, her face flamed.
Eyes dropping, stomach clenching, she started to stammer, "Oh, no, I mean, no, there wasn't…" She swallowed and let her words bleed into silence. What was there to say, anyway? It wasn't like the woman's assumptions weren't being shared by everyone she had seen this morning. Who was to say they were even wrong… just incorrect.
Thankfully, the woman said no more, just patted Tiye on the arm. She picked up the last piece of clothing–the Thief King's red robe. The woman made to put it in the same pile as the shendyts, but Tiye hesitated. The robe was obviously worn, with loose threads at the seams and more than one tear, but the Thief King had worn it so frequently–including at yesterday's elaborate ceremony–that Tiye suspected it was either a favored piece of clothing or a significant one. The last thing she wanted was for some sort of reprisal on the launderers if it returned to him damaged. "I think you should handle that one with special care too," she advised the woman.
The woman hummed a little doubtfully, but Tiye held her gaze. "I know you will not disappoint me." She said it softly, but the words hold the weight of royal authority, that tone Tiye has learned so well that does not permit disobedience. She saw the submission shift over the woman's expression, and she smiled, gently. "Thank you."
The woman bowed her head. "To hear is to obey, my princess."
Tiye shook her head. That was dangerous talk. She glanced around, but the skinny laundry maid was the only other soul around to hear, and her wide eyes and hesitant grin suggested she wasn't likely to blab. Still, Tiye's skin prickled with danger. "Obey the pharaoh," she told the woman warningly, "not me."
The woman didn't argue, but Tiye didn't leave reassured. She was glad not to see too many other faces on her way to her own former apartments.
Less than an hour later, Tiye made her way back to the pharaoh's apartments, head full of thoughts. Seeing Serenefret had helped. Tiye was glad, almost guiltily glad, it had been the younger maid who had been chosen to be allowed to attend her. Karoma's gaze would have been too knowing, too prying. She wouldn't have questioned Tiye – the bonds of protocol were too strong for that–but she would have made assumptions, and read into Tiye's reactions too many answers.
Tiye was so tired of playing to an audience, especially an audience that kept changing and wanted such strang, impossible things out of her. Serenefret was easier. Yes, worry and pity filled her big brown eyes, along with more than a little curiosity, but it was different. The questions she let herself ask were honest and straightforward. There was no hidden agenda, no game of unspoken words. It was refreshingly simple.
Even better was the time when she didn't talk, and just let Tiye be as she poured the warm water over her head and neck, as she massaged the soaps and oils into her scalp, as she gently combed through the tangles in her wet hair. It was the first time Tiye had felt like herself since the collar had closed around her throat, and the relief of it was almost as unbearable as it was delicious.
All too soon, she'd had to turn her mind to what was ahead. Serenefret had gone through her wardrobe, and she and Tiye had strategized together what would be best to wear - something simple enough that Tiye could manage it on her own, humble enough to suit the Thief King's opinion of her station, but rich enough to accomplish what he'd asked of her - I want a princess, not a ragamuffin to serve me. Tiye wasn't sure how to bridge all those gaps. He'd taken offense at her elaborate dress this morning - the dress he'd all but ordered her to wear - but then he'd also sent her here, to Serenefret, so she would be presentable.
In the end, she'd simply put on the dress she had arrived in–he hadn't objected to it before–but they'd also selected a few more dresses that they thought would work in the future. Serenefret had offered to let her borrow some of her own clothes, but Tiye couldn't possibly allow her to do anything of the sort.
"I'm not the only one with an uncertain future," she'd told the girl, laying a hand on her arm. "I'm thankful for you, Serenefret, but if you get a chance to leave, you should take it."
The girl had shrugged. "Where would I go?" It was a fair question. Thebes was a shambles, and right now it was highly unlikely that a lone traveler–especially a young woman–could make it safely to any city outside of the Thief King's control. Tiye had thought of Meritneith, Kiaa, and the others, and sent a silent prayer that they had reached Abydos and found safety there.
"For now, we all have to dance to the Thief King's tune," she'd told Serenefret, "and as long as you don't displease him, the palace is probably the safest place in the city. But later…"
She cut off the rest of what she wanted to say as she felt the collar warm on her skin, a tight, uncomfortable pressure rising. What she'd wanted to say was that Serenefret shouldn't feel any loyalty to the Thief King, and shouldn't let her loyalty to Tiye stop her from doing whatever she could to help herself. But the words wouldn't come, and even as the thoughts tumbled in her head, she felt they were wrong. How could she tell Serenefret to be disloyal to the Thief King, to her master?
Dizzily, Tiye realized what was happening. This was the collar. He had warned her. Even her intentions would be bound. Panic sparked deep within her, and she fought to quell it, breathing long and slow.
Serenefret looked at her, her soft brown eyes wide with concern. "I'm not going anywhere, my lady," she said reassuringly. "My place is here with you. I'll help you as much as I can."
It shouldn't have been so comforting. Tiye knew it was her duty to protect her people, not draw them into danger with her. She knew too that Serenefret didn't really understand what had upset her. Tiye wasn't sure she could have explained, even if she had wanted to.
But she wasn't completely alone. And that was more precious to her by far than any of the jewels or baubles the Thief King had stripped away.
She shook her head clear of recollections as she passed the two guards stationed outside of the pharaoh's apartments. She'd had her reprieve, and taken from it what comfort she could. It would have to be enough to fortify her for whatever else this day held.
With a deep breath, she entered the Thief King's presence.