Assou looked after her, watching as her hips moved sinuously out of his study, leaving him wordlessly behind. She had left him only a smile, combined with blissful satisfaction, which he didn’t want to feel and yet couldn’t suppress. She was too powerful for that, and Fatrada was too far away.

Sighing, Assou put his head back and closed his eyes. The cosy blackness behind his eyelids brought calm, peace in which he could relax. All the tasks that still lay ahead of him faded away, becoming meaningless for a moment. The calm only broke when he felt soft fur on his legs. Familiar warmth that cradled him in safety for a breath. Only then did he open his eyes to look at the small figure at his side.

Amenti’s body was pressed tightly against his skin. Her petite figure, just sitting there staring at him, seemed fragile – as if he only had to blow to see her crumble like sand.

“I’m glad to see you.” He really was. The last few days had held no company for him, and compared to Dinem, Amenti came to hear him out. She listened to him whenever he had something to say. No matter how stupid it sounded. “Have you enjoyed the last few days?”

Her mewl was so soft, Assou only recognised it as a breath. Her eyelids closed, her small head lowered. Understanding sprouted between them.

“So no... We should both sit back and let the day pass, right?” All the paperwork and calculations that haunted him and that he usually pushed to the back of his mind had overwhelmed him. It wasn’t physically hard work, but his head swayed so much in some hours he could no longer walk in a straight line.

Half in thought, Assou turned to Amenti. The words that flitted across his lips barely reached his ears and all he really knew was that he was telling her about those days. Of the endless papers and the rigidity that had overtaken his legs. Of all the boring aspects he couldn’t escape and yet, which were an integral part of his days. Every time anew. Yet the memories in his head remained tangled. It was impossible to put each day in a clear order because everything had been consistent and yet completely different. A constant routine, with tiny changes he’d added to make the days more vivid. All just to forget them in the end.

He shook his head, barely noticing. There was no need to think about all these things and dwell on the past any longer than necessary. Instead, things had to fall into place in the present. The fact he couldn’t make grand plans had always been part of who he was.

This time, he reached out for Amenti. Her soft fur greeted him in a familiar warmth and the density in his head, which made thinking difficult, cleared. His thoughts pushed aside everything unimportant, placed his hands on a chest full of unimportant things in the background, and closed the lid. What remained were the tasks of the present. The reality was he had to check a few last things before it could come to an end.

So Assou got to his feet. His palms tapped over the shendyt and the ruffled front soaked up the moisture from his hands. His destination led him into the corridor, where only quiet whispers echoed along the ornately painted walls as the patter of his feet on bare stone. It was only when he arrived outside the palace that the world of the others came crashing down on him.

The guards on either side didn’t move, but the slaves, who were trying to keep up the splendour of the royal quarters, chatted amongst themselves. Some stumbled and laughed. Others attracted attention with the clanking of heavy chains.

He followed their joys for a moment until he broke away from the spectacle and continued on his way round the side of the palace. The mighty walls stretched past him like a rampart and the statues of the deceased Great Queens and those who stood at Ramesses’ side towered over him like gods. The impression only faded when he reached one of the attached gardens surrounding the palace. They were small, unremarkable grounds, with a few dates on display and green bushes in the foreground. Not as lush as in the palace, where they grew under protection near Ramesses’ chambers. Instead, faded and tired in the face of Re.

The charming statues placed there brought rigid life between the fronts. Soon, another would be added and people could gaze at watchful eyes in timeless beauty in the gardens. Meritamen would remain in everyone’s memory.

The clanking of chains aroused his curiosity, forcing Assou onwards until he had almost circled one statue. What stopped him was Fatrada, sitting on her knees with a piece of cloth in her hands. The bucket of water at her side helped to wash away the dirt from the sculptures, and her dreamy gaze made every word choke on Assou’s tongue. Watching her made the burning heat sweet and the sight of her something he would much rather have captured in stone than Meritamen.

“You seem very busy.” Eventually he did address her, softly, wishing to hear her voice and gain her attention. “Are you all right? Is Maathorneferure treating you tolerably?”

Fatrada’s gaze shot up to him after his first two words, and although she had previously seemed like a beautiful woman in the distance, reality hit him mercilessly. Dark circles underlined her gaze, standing out puffy and swollen. The lustre in her eyes was missing, replaced by motionless irritation. Neither her posture nor her body had any tension and the exhausted sigh escaping her barely later sent a shiver through his body.

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It immediately forced Assou to crouch down, closer to Fatrada, hoping to shoulder some of her fatigue. But nothing changed. Only her position adjusted, causing her to press her arms tightly against herself.

“Vizier Assou.” Her voice sounded raspy. “What can I do for you?”

His mouth opened faster than he could find an answer. What remained was to look at her; to scrutinise her body, which had become thinner and whose injuries he only noticed in these breaths. Red marks faded in scattered places, bathing her body in an ugly image of another’s rage. His fingers twitched. The desire to touch her, to give her the protective embrace of another, flooded him.

But he could give her nothing.

He was nothing more than a figure on the edge, doing everything he could to give her freedom. Until then, he was no help; no one who had the right to touch her, though the heaviness in his chest made every breath a little more lifeless.

“I ... assume Maathorneferure is responsible for this?” He knew, and yet he was left with only the question, answered by Fatrada’s slow nod. She wasn’t prepared to give him any answers. If he wanted to know something, he would have to draw his own conclusions. Maybe even ask someone else who cared about the well-being of the slaves.

Indecisively, Assou ran both hands over his face. The only thing he could say for sure was that she was no longer angry with him. Her time at Maathorneferure’s side had robbed her of her strength and with it the hatred she had once so blatantly harboured towards him. What remained was a shell with no words, no name, and no real will. A state from which she had to recover.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need something to drink? Maybe something to eat? A break?” There had to be something he could do. But Fatrada remained silent. Her gaze had dropped. Her desire for a conversation had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared – if she had ever really wanted to talk to him.

Once again, he gathered his senses, ready to tell her about her new fate, when the distressed gasp of another came through to him. Closely followed by a sound of despair, it coursed through him in a flash. His legs instantly pushed through and although Fatrada should be the most important thing in this instance, he couldn’t help but look around. His eyes darted across the narrow garden to linger on Meritamen. There was little royalty in her hunched posture and the hands on her stomach held it so tightly that her shoulders shook. Every step she took swayed.

“Please... someone...” She gasped again before leaning against a statue and slowly sliding to her knees.

Assou’s gaze wandered to Fatrada again. She had also noticed the Great Queen, but remained in her position. Her hands clutched tightly in the cloth, she waited. Wordless and unable to move. The decision was entirely up to him.

Showing his best side was what he had always wanted to show Fatrada. So he hurried off. Straight to Meritamen. If he helped, Fatrada would realise that he only wanted the best. Especially for her.

“Your Highness!” He fell to his knees before the queen. “Are you all right?”

“Vizier... may the gods bless you...” Her breathing hung heavily on her lips as she placed a hand on his leg and raised her dark gaze. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. “Would you ... take me to my chambers?”

His answer was a curt nod before he grabbed Meritamen under the legs and by the shoulder to carry her away. Her weight lay heavy in his arms. As a vizier behind a table, his muscles were beyond meagre, but he didn’t let the effort show as he carried the Great Queen into the palace – surrounded by slaves. Even the guards turned round to look at him, taking in the unfamiliar sight as he followed the corridors and allowed his companions to open the door to Meritamen’s royal chamber.

Only when he had set her down on the bed, ready to turn round and hurry back to Fatrada, did his kindness get in the way. Slaves were bringing water, checking on their queen’s well-being, and a few of them were talking to him, hoping to shed light on the darkness.

Raising his hands, Assou summarised the events in brief words – without mentioning Fatrada at all.

“We should have been more careful...” One woman put her hands to her head. “Someone should have accompanied her. After all, she wasn’t well before.”

In the end, Assou allowed himself to be involved in the situation. “Is the pregnancy not going as expected?”

Some women shook their heads before the most desperate one lowered her hands and looked at Meritamen with narrowed brows. “She hasn’t been well for a while. It’s got to the point where the Great Queen Maathorneferure sometimes comes by and brings herbs to help, and the honourable Great Queen Bintanath keeps dropping by as well.” She sighed. “But it remains difficult.”

“We should let the Great Queen rest,” another interjected. “Vizier, we thank you, but please understand that rest is the best cure.”

She didn’t even have to ask him. The incident would reach Ramesses without his intervention, and the time he wasted at Meritamen’s side was better spent at Fatrada’s.

Finally seeing her again after all these days had awakened less in him than he had expected and yet it was during these seconds he felt his thoughts wanting to think of little else but her friendly smile and her sweet voice. Her presence attracted his body and her existence flared up like a long-forgotten fire in his being. The eternal wavering between oblivion and obsession receded into the background. In these breaths, Assou wanted to know she was with him, to feel her body and breathe her scent. He wanted to follow her as long as she would let him.

His senses carried him away, back to the statues, which still rested unchanged at their posts and yet seemed to have changed. They had become more beautiful, and he didn’t know whether it was because of Fatrada or the anticipation of being close to her again in a few moments.

He skilfully slid next to the same figure where he had left Fatrada – greeted by empty loneliness. She no longer crouched between stone and water to clean, nor did she emerge when he called her name and circled each statue. His time at Meritamen’s side had robbed him of his chance with Fatrada. Another misstep he could do nothing about.

All that remained was the silence of the garden, which stifled any joy in him.