Mereneith had never stepped foot into the palace before, and she would never have imagined doing so under such harrowing circumstances. Disguised as a regular palace maid, much like she had been dressed when she boarded the ship to Saqqara, she quietly followed behind the steward that Nefermaat had arranged to sneak her in.

As the second prince explained, security in the palace had indeed been tightened. There was a guard stationed at every doorway, studying her every movement with suspicion when she walked by.

She kept her head lowered, clutching tightly to the wooden tray upon which balanced a basin of water and a clean washcloth.

Eventually they came to a stop in front of an arched doorway that was lined with gold paint, shuttered by an elaborate two-panel bronze door carved with symbols that represented the blessings of Ptah. There were two guards on duty outside, armed with sharpened spears whose metallic tips glistened threateningly under the light.

"It is time for the king's daily cleansing," the steward said to the guards with an obsequious smile. He gestured at the basin that lay on Mereneith's tray.

"This girl isn't the usual one," the heftier of the two guards said.

Mereneith held her ground and tried not to tremble.

"Yes, Ife is not feeling well today, so we had to get a replacement. Not to worry, she has passed the identity checks over at the regent's office."

The steward beckoned to Mereneith, and she quickly dug out a wooden pendant from her pocket that bore the insignia of Kanefer's household. It had been given to her by Nefermaat before she entered the palace, which made her both impressed and wary of the man's resourcefulness.

With a loud groan, the heavy doors were pushed open, clearing the way for Mereneith and the steward to enter.

The king's private chambers were larger and more lavish than anything she had seen before—even more so than Nefermaat's residence, which had already been enough to leave her awestruck. It was divided into the outer and inner chambers, both of which had high ceilings and large, arch-shaped windows that provided a stunning view of the date palms that lined the gardens outside.

"Be quick," the steward whispered into her ear as they moved towards the king's inner chamber.

"Who is it?" an airy voice called out from within.

"My lady," the steward greeted, bowing deeply. "Is the king's condition still as before?"

Mereneith took one glance at the woman who had just stepped across the threshold between the outer and inner chambers and immediately shied away, hiding herself behind the steward's frame as best as she could.

It was Lady Tiye.

Her heartbeat quickened, hoping and praying that the lady did not recognise her from their brief encounter at the necropolis.

"Unfortunately so. The physicians left not so long ago, but they reported no improvement. It is extremely worrying," Tiye replied, yet Mereneith could detect no degree of concern in those words whatsoever.

"I am sure the king will recover in due course, for he is blessed by the gods. You must be weary, my lady, with all the time you spend looking after His Majesty. Please, you must return to your chambers and rest."

Much to Mereneith's relief, Lady Tiye hummed in acknowledgement and walked away, disappearing through the main doors without so much as lifting an eyebrow in her direction. Her heart settled back down.

Once the lady had left, the steward nudged Mereneith in the ribs.

"Go," he said.

Mereneith walked to the king's bedside, purposefully avoiding the steely gaze of the lone guard stationed by the nearby window.

The king was lying still as death, his skin hanging gauntly upon its frame with a greyish tone that hinted towards its degeneration. He looked like any other frail, elderly man—a far cry from the confident, vigorous ruler that she had seen on board the royal ship at the start of his tour of the lands. A mere few weeks had sapped the life out of the god, reminding everyone that he was but a human after all.

She dipped the linen washcloth into the basin of water, slowly dabbing each inch of the king's haggard face. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the guard watching her still, even while the steward tried to distract him with a casual conversation.

Steady, Mereneith. You can do this.

She carefully removed the ankh pendant that was hanging from a matching gold chain upon King Sneferu's neck, pretending to cleanse the front of his bared chest. Then, angling herself carefully so that the guard's view would be partially blocked, she slid the pendant back on.

Except it wasn't the same one.

The replacement pendant had been crafted at Nefermaat's behest, and affixed with a single Ak'heka crystal at the back, barely noticeable to anyone unless it was picked up and carefully studied. The crystal was tiny, but it was the best they could do in order to escape detection. Mereneith could only hope that its purity could help to make up for its lack of size.

Job done, she slipped the original pendant beneath the folds of her sheath dress and straightened herself up, turning to pick up the wooden tray once more.

"All done? Excellent," the steward declared, a twitch at the left corner of his lips betraying his nerves. "Come, let us not intrude on His Majesty's recovery any further." He bade a polite farewell to the guard and walked hastily towards the exit.

Just as they stepped out of the king's chambers, the sounds of voices and approaching footsteps pounding against the stone floor came drifting to their ears. The steward blanched, his footsteps visibly speeding up as he hurried down the corridor. Sensing the impending danger, Mereneith followed suit.

"Stop right there," a loud voice bellowed from behind them.

They had no choice but to halt in their step.

The steward turned to face the newcomers, as did Mereneith, her chin tucked towards her chest so that her fringe partially obscured her eyes.

"Your Highness," the steward greeted with a slight wobble in his voice.

"Why the hurry? Are you running away from something? From me, perhaps?"

The voice was unfamiliar to Mereneith, but she knew enough to make an educated guess as to whom it belonged to.

Kanefer—the first prince and incumbent regent of the kingdom. The culprit responsible for the assassination of Kha and the king, for treason against the kingdom, and for the death of her beloved mentor Rekhmir. She dared not look up at his countenance, in case her eyes betrayed the anger and injustice that burned inside her heart. Instead, her fingers dug into the wood of the tray, as if they were stabbing into the neck of this monster.

"Of course not, Your Highness. I did not see you coming. There are many things that need attending to around the palace and I'd not dare waste any time."

"Yes," Kanefer replied, dragging out the word painfully. Mereneith could see him tapping against one of the gold rings he wore on his fingers, and it reminded her of a vulture tapping a talon. "You have been serving my father a long time, Zahur, isn't that right?"

"Almost twenty years, Your Highness."

"Twenty years. What a very long time indeed. It must be difficult for you then, to see my father in such a state."

The steward remained silent.

"I've always thought you were a clever man, Zahur, but it appears that I may be mistaken," the prince continued.

Mereneith caught a glimpse of something silver catch the light. Her head jerked upwards when she heard the steward cry out in fear. Kanefer was holding a dagger in his hand, its gleaming tip pointing directly at Zahur's jugular. She could see his face now, dark eyes glinting cruelly as he peered down at the other man. Behind him stood Tiye, who, instead of looking at the two men, had her cat-like eyes trained directly upon Mereneith.

Dread spread its ghastly tendrils across her heart and mind, slowly seeping into every fibre of her body.

She recognised me after all.

"A clever man would know where to place his allegiance, but who have you chosen? My little brother Kha?"

The prince gestured to his guards and two of them immediately stepped up, grabbing hold of Mereneith by both shoulders and dragging her towards the front.

"So, which one of you is going to tell me where he is?"

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about, Your Highness," Zahur stammered.

"Is that so? Well sadly I don't believe a single word you're saying." Kanefer dragged the blade of the dagger lightly across the steward's neck, leaving a thin trail of blood oozing in its wake. "Take them both away!" he snarled.

#

Mereneith had lost count of how many times she had passed out and regained consciousness.

Her vision was marred by a forbidding darkness. She wasn't sure if it was because she was being kept underground or if it was thanks to the swelling of her eyelids and the damaged nerves in her eyes. Pain was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and it was messing with her perception of reality.

Like she couldn't tell whether or not the beautiful young woman standing before her was real or hallucination.

"You're a surprisingly tough one to crack," Tiye's silk-like voice echoed. "Kanefer thought a feminine touch might make a difference. From a woman to a woman."

Mereneith winced when a sharp fingernail jabbed itself against the bruised underside of her chin, forcing her to look up.

Real, I guess.

"I already said, I don't know anything. Let me go," she whispered with what little strength she could muster. Her own voice sounded foreign to her—hoarse and cracked like an old hag's. But it was a wonder she could even speak after what she had suffered.

Since arriving down here and being strapped to a wooden rack with unforgiving metal chains, Mereneith had been subjected to several rounds of interrogation, each one filled with worse nightmares than the one before. Every inch of her body was battered and bruised, and angry, bleeding pustules lined the grooves of the symbol that had been branded on her right arm with red-hot metal. The scales of Ma'at, goddess of justice.

The irony.

In contrast, Lady Tiye looked like a perfectly manicured flower even in these depths of hell, the turquoise beads of her dress hugging her slender curves and leaving absolutely none of her beauty to imagination.

A poisoned flower though. One that Mereneith regretted having the good fortune of meeting.

"I've been told you've already said that a hundred times. Why don't you try something a little different? Zahur's already confessed, so we don't need the information from you. I'm only trying to find a reason that would let me help you stay alive."

"You're lying. Zahur is dead, isn't he?"

Mereneith caught the flicker of surprise in Tiye's eyes when her bluff was called.

There was no way the steward would have told Kanefer where Kha was, because he didn't even know that Kha was involved. Nefermaat had settled everything while keeping Kha carefully concealed, and based on her understanding of the second prince's shrewdness, her guess was that he had his means of keeping Zahur silent, even in the face of torture and death.

Tiye didn't answer her question. Her lips curled upwards in a smile and she said, "You're a curious one. You're not just an ordinary servant girl, are you? How exactly did you come to know Prince Kha? Do you work for the queen perhaps? That old woman is always so meddlesome. I always thought she had an odd dislike for her own son, but I suppose blood is thicker than water."

Mereneith said nothing.

"I know girls like you. Perhaps you believe that your prince will swoop in and rescue you from this," Tiye gestured at the grimy cell, "and he'll reward you handsomely for your loyalty and service. But let me teach you something, from my own experience. Men are all the same. You will never matter more to them than power and influence—and to be king is to stand head and shoulders above all. To be a god. Save yourself, for no one will save you."

"Is that why you betrayed the king and chose Kanefer?"

"Betrayed? That's a little harsh. Neither of them, my grandfather included, have done anything for me that warrants my loyalty. To them, I'm merely a tool with which they can achieve their own selfish goals. But I still have a choice. Live—or die. I choose to live, on my terms. Choosing death would mean choosing to lose."

There was a determination and fortitude in those luminous eyes, but the only emotion they evoked was a deep sense of pity. Mereneith thought she could understand. To be given away as a gift to man more than twice her age for the sake of the family's wealth and position—there was no glory in that despite the riches of the harem, only shame. If she had been in Tiye's shoes, she might not have made the same choices, but she had no right to fault Tiye for hers.

"Enough," Tiye declared. "I think I've given you enough time as it is. The gaolers wouldn't have been half this charitable. Tell me where Kha is hiding, and we'll let you go. You have my word on that."

"I don't know," Mereneith repeated for the umpteenth time.

The consort ran one finger down the side of Mereneith's cheek, shaking her head in disappointment. "You are a foolish girl to think that any man is worth exchanging your life for," she said. "Love is nothing but a delusion, my dear, a weapon that is used to trick us into servitude. I hope you remember this lesson in your next life, for I do not think we will be seeing each other again in this one."

Mereneith watched as the lady sashayed out of the cell, the beads of the latter's dress creating the illusion of a calming fall of light rain that reverberated throughout the small space even long after she was gone. She sighed. A part of her genuinely hoped that Tiye would get the life she hoped for, after everything she sacrificed for the sake of merely living. But the bigger part of her had a bad feeling that it wouldn't happen, not with someone as cruel and callous as Kanefer, who'd dare push his own father to the grave.

"Love is nothing but a delusion," Tiye had said.

What was love?

Did the lady think that she was in love with Kha?

Was she?

A wry grimace crept upon Mereneith's face. It seemed excessive to even be considering this, when she was teetering on the brink of death. Maybe she had grown to feel more for him than she had anticipated, but whether or not that qualified as love was not something she was able to put a finger on now. Regardless, that was not the whole reason why she was choosing to keep mum. Besides the possibility of love, there was also duty and justice that resided in her heart, all of which pointed her to her eventual decision.

Choices had been made, and despite this brief intersecting of paths, her choice had put her on an entirely different one from Tiye.

Mereneith closed her eyes, letting the temporary silence of her surroundings embrace her.