The wine, which was poured at regular intervals by the slaves, relaxed Hattušili’s mood so excessively that his wife shamefully asked him for a break. A window of opportunity within hours, which Assou gratefully accepted. The greeting had taken too long and the wild chatter of the foreign king made it increasingly difficult to endure the boredom. He therefore accepted the chance to escape faster than would have been polite, but the pulling in his legs tugged at his nerves and every bone in his body yearned for movement.

As he left the guest room behind, the stiff feeling in his legs drove him swaying forwards – towards the bath, at the edge of which Maathorneferure was waiting. With her eyes fixed on the water, she didn’t notice him in the first few breaths they shared. But his muscles were too weak to hold him and when he buckled away, the spell was broken.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he braced himself with one hand against the nearest wall and felt Maathorneferure’s sharp gaze on his skin the very next moment.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” The hissing of her words reached his ears. Her question came out of nowhere.

“What are you talking about?” Raising his brows, the tjati tried to make sense of her, only to realise he couldn’t find follow. The strange emptiness in his head cleared only sluggishly.

“The people you invited,” she snarled back. “The ones who are supposed to please me.”

“You mean your parents?”

Her answer was an icy silence lurking between them until Assou cleared his throat. “Yes, that was my idea. A suggestion to increase your fertility, which Ramesses happily accepted.” He shook one of his legs. “You know the importance of children, I hope, and that it is your duty to produce an heir who will one day protect this kingdom.”

She hadn’t been here long. There could be many reasons for her not having a child yet. But none of them could prevail. A Great Royal Queen had to fulfil her task as quickly as possible. That alone honoured her status, gave her security and protection within the palace. And although he waited for Maathorneferure to utter her venomous words to spoil his day, she remained silent. All she gave was a heavy sigh, as if she didn’t want to be in this place; as if her task was nothing more than a burden she didn’t want to carry. Then she turned away, pretended Assou wasn’t even there and walked away with such heavy steps it remained impossible to ignore her.

No matter how he looked at it, her behaviour was unusual. The poison of her words was missing, her vigour and arrogance had collapsed and the emptiness in her gaze held a part of death – banished by guardians like Cherti. The woman who killed Nagib, threatened the tjati and locked Fatrada in the palace was missing. Instead, she was a shadow of herself. An apparition you could walk through had she been a little more detached. Presumably the fact she wasn’t carrying a child actually struck a chord with him. Not that it was his problem. Not receiving a child from Maathorneferure was considered a blessing Assou wanted to cherish. Still, he watched her longer than necessary.

The sudden change in her character seemed to unhinge the world of the palace, the time he usually cursed. It left him with a tightness in his stomach and sweat on his hands, which he dried on the shendyt.

Only when the accumulated nausea subsided did the tjati move and follow the corridors to his study, where he breathed in once more at the door. Maathorneferure was no longer the worst evil in the palace, thinking of Maged, whose very existence he couldn’t comprehend. The ornate murals poured down on him like cold water at the mere thought of this messenger. There was still too much he couldn’t sort out. The only thing that kept him in check was his urge to see Fatrada. As if the spell had been lifted from him, she was less and less in his mind. Her safety was a priority, a part of him yearned to possess her, but the rest had converted back to the first days when the longing had been greatest. Days when her face had been enough without turning his whole life upside down.

Sighing, Assou bowed his head. Many things seemed to be in constant flux, and his innermost being was no exception. So he opened the door to his room, ready to embrace the silence and forget the rest. However, it was Dinem who greeted him with a gentle smile. Her gallant attitude didn’t even change when the door slammed shut behind him. She sat in front of his table, her hands folded in her lap, slightly tilted so she could turn her head far enough to look at him.

“Vizier, I see you have returned.” Her voice settled like velvet on his senses. She enticed him, accompanying him to behind his table, where he sat down stiffly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Any news?” He leaned on the wood. “How is Fatrada?”

“Excellent.” Dinem couldn’t be controlled. Without hesitation, she pushed herself to her feet. Her sauntering steps circled the table until she sat down next to him. “Maathorneferure doesn’t give a damn about her, which is why she lives in constant unconcern. That’s better than being noticed by the Third Great Royal Queen, Vizier.”

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That was it. It lulled Fatrada to safety, gently enough that he didn’t have to worry about what would happen next. The feast was almost upon them, and Maathorneferure’s world was falling apart.

Dinem’s fingertips brought him back to the conversation. They danced over his leg, running along the thin fabric of the shendyt, caressing his skin that peeked out from under his skirt just above his knees. Her eyes were glued to him. He could feel it, and although heat lurked in every corner of the room, it was Dinem who stood out clearly.

“I think you can get back to your duties now.” He knew he wasn’t going to get off easy. Not if Dinem had any ideas of his own, and not even then, considering he had promised affection in return for her services.

“You want to send me away?” The heaviness in her voice pulled him down, somewhere in the depths where she waited for him with open arms. Hopeful and yet eager enough that running away seemed impossible.

The seconds were inappropriate for shared pleasure. The feast demanded his attention. He wanted to be happy to have Fatrada back, and the messenger was still an unsolved mystery. But Dinem’s scent carried him away. The soft, warm note of her skin, caught somewhere between the scent of flowers and milk, led his senses off. Far from his imagination and away from anything that looked like a shore of salvation.

“Of course not. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to do my job if I don’t make the most of every second.” Another one of those half-true lies Assou told himself, and yet couldn’t control. It simply tumbled over his tongue and presented itself to Dinem in a shy guise. But she wasn’t interested in excuses and even less in his work when she was claiming a reward. Her hand moved up his thigh, tugging the shendyt upward, not stopping even as she grazed his dick, and the strange coldness of her hand travelled through his loins.

If he wanted to get rid of her to clear his head, then he had to surrender. He had to obey, play along, do her bidding, and forget that his preparations were still not complete.

Her presence moved further into the foreground as she swung herself onto his lap. For a moment, she looked down at him from close up, letting her black hair frame her soft face like a picture. And if he looked at her long enough, Dinem possessed charm. A breath of peace that he could snuggle up to in the hope no one would disturb. His hands ran over rough fabric, gliding along curves that captivated him. Her wide hips invited him to linger longer on them, and yet there was the slender thought of feeling her soft skin under his hands.

Dinem didn’t bother to take off her kalasiris. Instead, her hands ran over his face as she breathed a kiss on his forehead. A stranger’s light touch, a bit of affection warm against his cheeks, made the scent of her body more present. His fingers slid down to the hem of the dress. The fabric slipped up under his mere touch and he assisted as he slid it over her hips – exposing her naked middle, which rubbed lightly against his shendyt. With swift movements, he detached himself from Dinem for a moment and loosened the shendyt, moving the fabric aside to take his penis in his hand and massage the hot skin in firm strokes. Tingling sensations spread through his loins and even if he would have liked to claim it was for Dinem’s sake, it was ultimately only his own stimulation that got the blood pumping.

The pleasure he wanted to feel was missing and although he seemed able to rely on his dick, he knew it wouldn’t last long. Despite everything, sex with her was nothing more than a job.

Without further ado, he used his half-stiff penis and ran it once along Dinem’s pubis. Unlike him, she was looking forward to the game. Her moisture enveloped his skin, making the connection between them slippery, if not more arousing. Still, he penetrated on the second try, grabbing Dinem by the hips and pulling her firmly onto his lap. Her pleasurable sigh chased a shiver down his spine, clinging to his mind and smiling at him somewhere in the background. Slow movements swayed them both, letting Dinem’s hips slide snake-like over his lap. The heat inside of her, taking him in tightly, wrapped around him, not letting up even when she changed tactics and lifted her pelvis. She lingered motionless, eyes closed, as if she was savouring the halfway point between them. She was consuming time he didn’t want to sacrifice.

His hands disengaged from her hips, bracing himself on the floor instead, giving him support as he met her with his hips. He bridged the distance, thrusting firmly into her, letting himself fall back and yet coming towards her again and again. Like an eternal beat he couldn’t escape, turning the friction inside her into a strange mixture of pleasure and boredom.

Her moans grew louder with each encounter, filling his ears with melody. But her hold weakened. The strength in her legs sagged, propelling Dinem from her position straight back into his lap. She pressed him to the floor, her weight robbing him of the freedom to set the pace, and yet she maintained his rhythm. Her hips lowered and skin slapped together. A sound that travelled across the walls.

Her eyes half-opened, ready to look at him and reveal a lustre through the thick lashes that Assou lacked. The dark gaze settling on him, lust guiding her hands. Excitement, he felt like a faint shock in his loins, as if the blood would make his will stronger; as if it would actually do something to perceive the pleasure of another.

In fact, it made the tension in his loins heavier, chasing a brief jolt of pleasure through him he couldn’t grasp. A moment he couldn’t even indulge in when Dinem rose from him, spurting his white liquid against her pubis. Not much, just enough to be noticeable, and yet a sign that the orgasm overcoming him had barely been noticeable. The effort was limited. There was no satisfaction and no matter how he looked at it, everything in him wanted to withdraw from Dinem. In those breaths, her presence was uncomfortable.

Luckily for him, she stood up, a thin smile on her lips. In her world, she had won. She tugged the kalasiris into place as if nothing had ever happened – at least nothing more than a stopover that had no meaning and yet ripped the world apart at the seams.