The memory pulled at his insides and pressed against his chest to make it difficult for him to breathe. In the end, he was left alone. There were no hands left to catch him when perhaps one day everything would take a turn for the worse. No one gave him more security than himself. He had earned his firm footing and he wouldn’t lose it to Maathorneferure.

The sudden knock on his door made Assou flinch. No one could hear his thoughts – at least no one except the gods – which also meant he had nothing to worry about. Still, the heaviness remained in him and didn’t let up even when he invited his visitor in.

For a moment, nothing happened. Silence moved through the room as the tjati kept the door in his sights. No one entered. No one cared to obey his order, so with a snort, he forced himself to his feet. With slow steps, he approached the door and placed a hand on the wood. It was impossible to sense anyone on the other side, and yet the rigid existence of uneasy certainty slid through his body. No one was waiting for him on the other side, he was sure of that after a few moments, so he opened the door a crack. Bitter emptiness greeted him with silence, tempting Assou to open the barrier fully and look down the corridor. But not even a shadow flitted along the stretch from one side to the other.

With a sigh, he lowered his gaze, only to be drawn to a stone slab at his feet. He looked at the smooth stone, on which there were only a few scratches, as he crouched down. More curious than before, he took the slab in his hand and turned it. But nothing had been left on the back either.

Someone had left this slab in front of his door. They wanted to tell him something, and yet it seemed as if they wanted to make fun of him. It was hard not to think of Maathorneferure instantly. Her games weren’t worthy of those of a queen, and the last encounter with her had only been a few moments ago.

When should she have had time to lay this unclear message at his door?

No matter from which angle he looked at it, nothing fitted. All he was left with was the sight of the stone in his hands and the mewing of the cat in the background. A silent invitation to take the slab inside and close the door.

The message found a place under the pile of papyrus that covered his table. Then Assou sat back and took a breath. He had to solve the palace’s problems step by step. The way he had always done it. The new components weren’t allowed to upset him. It was important to stay on the right path.

The sun was slowly falling, nestling closer to the earth and allowing the heat outside to subside. He followed the fading glow with loose attention. His head was empty, his chest weighed half as much as before, and his thoughts had focused on one problem.

First, he would take on Maathorneferure. Once she was no longer a threat, most of his hurdles would be removed. After that, he could turn his attention to the smaller obstacles that all at once seemed meaningless. Taking a step back and looking at things soberly, as his father had sometimes done, was wiser than running blindly to his doom. It saved him from the crowd that had seemed so overwhelming before. Everything, except Maathorneferure, was nothing but a mountain of trivialities to which he could devote himself half-heartedly.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the individual components as darkness swallowed the land and the city slowly grew sleepy. The late evening fell early by its standards and the dinner he had skipped made itself known on the sidelines.

As soon as he had complied with the Great Royal Queen’s will, he would make up for the missed meals. But until then, it was a matter of waiting.

When Assou pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his clothes, darkness had already enveloped everything. It was impossible to see one’s hand in front of the eyes, and yet he knew his room so well that he had no trouble getting to the door. Behind the wood at the latest, the fire of the torches flickered and gave light that cast shadows far too long.

With lively steps, the tjati followed the path to his left, straight to the large bath, behind which the corridors for the queens were hidden. He hadn’t often been to one of Ramesses’ wives, but he knew where to go to get to Maathorneferure.

No sooner had he set foot in the corridor than whispers reached him. In this place, including the queens, gathered the slaves who had volunteered to serve the gods, and the slaves Ramesses had subjugated and found so pleasing to the eye that he had made them part of the palace.

Assou followed the whisper, passed restless shadows and felt the faint touch of unexpected cold on his skin. It settled on him, clinging to his clothing, until he arrived before a door whose heavy wood was far nobler than what he possessed. It gleamed darkly, shone, and someone had taken the trouble to carve wondrous flowers into it. It brought a charm of another world and he didn’t have to inquire to know that behind that barrier, none other than Maathorneferure would be waiting for him. This door suited her. It seemed like a relic of her country that made Assou knock. Hard, to make a muffled sound that he could hardly believe would reach the other side.

But the door was opened.

The face of a presentable female slave greeted him. She gave him a narrow smile from sparkling eyes before widening the passage and taking a step aside. The lacklustre calasiris fell loosely down her body, matching her flowing movements, which the tjati followed with his eyes before entering.

His gaze fixed on the furnishings, which looked entirely different from what he knew of Ramesses. Colourful cloths hung from the ceiling, creating a veil-like splendour that captivated him. In between, slave girls. The rattle of jewellery broke the silence, which was filled with the scent of rosewater. It tickled his senses and made him wrinkle his nose before he ran his thumb and forefinger firmly over the bridge.

“I see you have chosen to act more wisely than at other times.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The first thing that reached Assou, surrounded by colours and slave girls, was the voice of Maathorneferure, nestling softly against him. Without further ado, he let his gaze glide further across the room to discover a bed behind two red veils, carefully placed on a pedestal. It was one of those pretty, expensive pieces of which he also owned one – in his bedchamber at home, which he visited perhaps once a year.

At the foot of her sleeping place, she had placed two wooden chests on which four small wicker baskets rested. From one, Assou could see the corner of cloth sticking out. The image made him breathe a sigh of relief. In that respect, she was little different from the other queens. She protected herself from creatures crawling around, and she enjoyed the handiwork of gifted craftsmen. She herself was nothing more than a woman who nurtured her preferences.

Preferences that included provoking others.

“What now?” Hands on hips, Assou tilted his head. He had arrived, had fulfilled Maathorneferure’s wish, and yet seemed to be only at the beginning. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to come closer, Vizier.” Her words possessed the honeyed sound of long-forgotten days, and for a moment, it seemed impossible to resist her will.

In slow steps, Assou complied with her request, pushing aside the veils and working his way to the open space in the middle of which Maathorneferure sat on her bed.

The sight of her made him hold his breath.

Well-shaped breasts that would barely fit in his hands were adorned with gold. There was neck jewellery that stretched to her bosom in narrow rings, adorned with blue gems that highlighted her brown skin more beautifully than any expensive silver jewellery he usually saw on high-ranking women. Her dark brown hair lay braided over her shoulder and reached just to the bottom of the necklace. Asim detached himself from the gold, travelled along her body and stopped at the hem of a shawl she had draped over her lap. Legs bent to the side, her body propped on one arm, her free hand rested on her ankles.

Black-rimmed eyes stared him down. There was amusement in her gaze, the soft hint of mockery on her tongue. “Tell me, Vizier, have you never seen a woman before? You seem to me like a child.”

The snort tightened his features. She wasn’t the first woman he had seen naked, but she was probably the most beautiful – apart from Fatrada. Her body was perfect, inviting a man to nestle against her bosom and share the nights with her. She truly possessed the grace of a goddess and simultaneously she exuded the venom of a serpent.

“What answer do you expect?” Rather than be provoked, Assou focused on her piercing eyes that allowed no escape. It was both a salvation and a curse. “You may be beautiful, but I don’t see what that has to do with me. Should you not turn these charms to your Pharaoh?”

The corners of her mouth twitched downward briefly before she sighed, “You offer no entertainment at all, do you? Thinking you’re always above me just because you’re a better judge of a few things than others.”

Indecisively, Assou raised his brows before Maathorneferure clapped her hands and two female slaves stepped up to her side. One of them had braided her shoulder-length, pitch-black hair into countless plaits adorned with colourful beads that Maathorneferure had presumably lent her for the evening. The heavy silver jewellery around her neck gleamed as an eyesore on her creamy brown skin and seemed too heavy for the thin body that lacked curves.

The other looked little different, merely offering him a more striking sight, with high cheekbones and nice breasts that glinted slightly in the glow of the captured flames within a metal cube.

Without further ado, Maathorneferure bent down to grab the fabric that protected the two women’s hips to pull it away. It came away smooth as water, revealing to Assou a view of slender legs joined in neat smooth skin to the middle.

These slaves weren’t half as well-built as Maathorneferure and yet they possessed the feminine charm that prevailed in this palace on some days. Charm that failed to capture him. They were beautiful to look at, but he was not prepared to fall into the trap of a woman who wanted nothing more than his head four feet away from his body.

“Well then, they are yours, Vizier.” The smirk on Maathorneferure’s lips threw the tjati off balance, so she pointed with both hands at the young slave girls. “What I ask of you is simple. I want you, with Arsinoë on my right and Neeth on my left, to indulge in lust before my eyes. Show me you know something about entertainment.”

Automatically, he stretched his neck forward. “I think I misunderstood you.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

His features loosened, dropping all hold as his eyes slid back and forth between the two women. Whatever Maathorneferure was pursuing, in those seconds, he didn’t get behind her plan.

“Undress!” It was a command that left her lips with a harsh sound, making Assou look back at her. Her beauty shone among the other women. Almost as if she had made a neat selection to compare the countenance of a human with that of a goddess.

Refusing her would get him into trouble as much as agreeing. Fatrada was at stake, along with his post as Vizier. If Ramesses learned of this evening, the peace within the palace would be gone. But if he had to make a choice, the decision was simple. Protecting Fatrada was the only thing that mattered. At the end, he, too, was just a man. Surrendering to two beautiful women in front of a queen wasn’t the worst thing she could have done to him.

For a moment, Maathorneferure faded into the background while the two slave girls received his attention. When he let his mind run wild, they were perfect; then they lacked for nothing and neither of them was inferior to Fatrada in anything. It made them good enough to let himself fall and forget that there were better things to do than submit to Maathorneferure.

Assou took the freedom to pull down a few of the fabrics to settle on the floor. The women, noticing his intentions, slowly settled to join him. Neeth at his feet, Arsinoë at his side.

Arsinoë’s hands wandered over the fabric of his clothing, gently resting against his cheeks and grazing the skin down to the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, Neeth’s large, brown eyes lingered on him, looking like the vast desert where people could get lost if they weren’t careful. Nimbly, Arsinoë’s hand slipped under Assou’s tunic, down to the shendyt, to loosen the tightness and give him the freedom to disrobe himself in a few swift moves. The heat of the outside world consumed him in an instant. Being naked among these women smothered the former cold, flaming hot along his body, not missing an inch.

With one hand, the stranger reached into his crotch, touching his cock with her fingertips, while simultaneously using the other to grope for the second slave. Meanwhile, her body slid behind him, barely noticeable. Breasts pressed firmly against his back. Then she reached for Neeth’s arm, grabbed her and pulled her closer so that she, too, came closer to the tjati. Her thin body seemed clumsy, awkward, and unsure of what she was about to do. Presumably, she had no plan for whether a vizier was considered a mere man, or whether there were rules.

Arsinoë pushed back against his side, letting the soft tips of her breasts graze his arm before she leaned against him. Her hand tightened around his penis, bringing new tightness that forced Assou to spread his legs. Her movements, a gentle rise and fall, were barely perceptible, sweeping over him like a breeze and possessing vague disappointment in the same blink. Still, he put an arm around her, dug his fingers into her soft hip and pressed her tighter against him, hoping she would react the same way – rub harder.

But her touch remained gentle.