The sudden tap on his shoulders made Assou flinch. His senses cleared and found distance from the darkness that had swallowed him. All that remained was the strangely numb taste on his tongue, combined with the heat in his cheeks. Everything else was unchanged.
“What a greedy animal you are, Vizier.” Maathorneferure’s curt, light laugh nestled against him. “But I cannot allow you to do as you wish. After all, I am the Pharaoh’s wife. Surely you don’t want to try and get in the way, do you?” She tilted her head. “But I’m not a monster who won’t acknowledge your lust.”
As she snapped her fingers, unease spread among the others in the room. Whispers broke out, beady eyes scrutinised him, and no one missed the moment when Dinem stepped out from between them. Her soft, graceful steps stood out from the crowd and didn’t fade even when she caught sight of him. Almost as if she had already guessed that Maathorneferure would go this far.
Assou didn’t bother to smile. In a situation like this, any expression was out of place. It didn’t fit the circumstances that had been thrown at them. Instead, he turned to the third Great Royal Queen.
“You sure are bored if you’re asking me for the same thing twice.” It wasn’t an attempt to save himself, but it was enough to make Maathorneferure snort. Her lids drooped as she wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“It may be the same for you, but it’s something new for Fatrada, isn’t it?” Without further ado, she glanced at her newfound slave, whose eyes were glued to Assou like plates.
Surely, she could never, ever be happy with what he was doing. In the end, he had wooed her. He had made her promises that vanished into thin air. She was still the most important component in this game.
He pressed his lips together. It wasn’t a game and yet, with each passing day, he became more accustomed to the idea that all these things were nothing more than a poorly constructed spectacle he had to escape without knowing how. All that remained was acceptance. It was impossible to contradict Maathorneferure when he had nothing to counter her with. It was just one battle of many, and as long as she saw herself in the leading position, there was hope she wouldn’t really notice him – no longer categorising him as competition for a fictitious position that didn’t exist.
“That doesn’t change the fact it doesn’t make much difference to you. An obstacle like this isn’t one, considering that no one will be harmed, and I don’t plan to change anything about the love in my heart.” He shrugged his shoulders. “That would merely put me on an equal footing with you.”
“Just say that for as long as you want. It won’t save you.” She gestured for him to start with a wave of her hand. He had to entertain her. It was the only thing she asked for, and even if it would have been easier to give her that satisfaction instead, he turned to Dinem.
Taking his attentions as a sign, she approached and leaned down a bit to undo his shendyt, exposing him to all the others. Nothing that left shame behind, yet still felt cold against his skin. Her nimble fingers gripped his limp cock. A small sign to Fatrada that Maathorneferure had no control over his body. Only when Dinem gave him attention, when her soft lips closed around his penis, did Assou give in. This time, it was all right. It was Dinem. She wasn’t a stranger, and she wasn’t a woman he needed to be wary of. They were allies.
Her tongue circled his cock as she took it so deeply into her mouth that Assou thought she would devour him. But all he encountered was soft resistance, coated in the moist feeling of her mouth. She sucked on it, slowly releasing it, moving back and forth without bending her knees once. She maintained her uncomfortable position and denied the tjati a view of her plump breasts, which could have lain beneath him like a protective wall.
Blood pooled in his crotch, lust flared in tiny flashes, and it was enough to pull Dinem off him. What remained was arousal. Meanwhile, her fingers loosened the kalasiris on her body until the fabric slid to the floor, revealing bare skin. Her tan complimented the fabrics in the immediate vicinity and made her stand out as if she were the only true flower among dozens of replicas. Then she moistened her fingers and traced a line between her breasts – down to her pubis. She inserted them between her lower lips while her cat-like gaze remained fixed on Assou.
For what seemed like an eternity, he watched as her fingers penetrated, taking the lead and awakening her desire. All the while, a strange, damp cold clung to his cock, making the stinging beneath his flesh present and the will exuberant. He could have done it himself, but offering Maathorneferure a spectacle she didn’t deserve was out of the question. All he could do was wait. Silently and quietly, even though his cock twitched and delightful pain penetrated his senses.
Only when Dinem seemed satisfied with herself did she turn her back to him and bend over in front of him. Her hands rested on her knees and Assou knew she wouldn’t ask him with words. She was going to do it quietly, make it look like she was actually forcing herself.
For Fatrada’s sake.
With a snort, the tjati stepped closer. Discovering the invitingly moist line between her legs enticed him and didn’t lose its appeal, even when he separated Dinem’s legs with one foot. He needed that distance. Then he positioned his cock and collected a small amount of the moisture before penetrating – in one fluid motion.
Dinem’s gasp didn’t escape him and yet gave him no clue as to what she wanted; how they should proceed. Without clear words, he could only follow the deep-seated desire of his loins. He didn’t give her a moment to accept him inside her. Instead, he thrust. Directly and in quick, firm strokes, so a dull slapping sound escaped between them and her skin trembled under his force.
A sigh escaped his lips too, deep and raspy, as if it weren’t his own voice caught in his throat. Dinem, however, lost her footing and slowly lowered herself to her knees together with Assou. On all fours, her resistance grew. She met him halfway whenever he pushed. It made the clash harder and trapped his penis so tightly that his hands became sweaty. Bouncing his hips on her ass squeezed all the pleasure out of him, draining his senses and turning the pleasant warmth between her legs into arousing heat he pressed against himself. His hands clutched at her waist. Warm skin nestled against his senses as each moan that rolled over her made her body tremble. Taking Dinem this way was different. It was unlike the last time, and though Assou didn’t want to think about it, it seemed to be his watchful eyes quietly putting ideas into his head. They brought something forbidden with them.
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Still, he thought he could feel Dinem melting under his hands, while Maathorneferure watched with a fixed smile. Next to her Fatrada. The woman who understood in those seconds that he couldn’t escape pleasure. Not even Dinem could keep up the facade. They both fell for the sensation of wanting more of each other; as long as they were given the chance. The flames engulfed them, pressing them into a mould combining lust and sighing. A steady rhythm that travelled through Assou’s loins.
His thrusts became slower. The desire tried to get out of him. So he withdrew from Dinem, put his hand to it and guided the pleasure to the tip with firm, uniform rubs. A hiss escaped him, dissolving into a soft moan as the pressure disappeared from his cock and he spilled over Dinem’s back.
Her heavy breathing caught quickly, making her sit down and catch her breath. All while Maathorneferure clapped her hands. It was a snide, solitary applause she gave him.
“Send them away, both of them.” Her command was loud enough to set the entire palace in motion, and yet only two slaves rose to do as she wished.
Assou waited for them to grab him and throw him out of this room, but instead they took Dinem and Fatrada. They were both led out of the room, away from prying eyes still roaming these walls. He took the opportunity to put his shendyt back on and let out a weary sigh before turning to Maathorneferure, whose gaze still rested on the door.
“It’s a shame,” she then said all at once, before shaking her head. “You should have taken your dearest Fatrada. She’s been standing here all this time, waiting for you, and you’ll do anything not to lay a hand on her.”
“Fatrada isn’t one of your toys,” he replied curtly. “But I assume you are aware of that part.”
“Indeed, I am,” she confirmed, “but whether she feels the same way is a question I can’t answer.” She gave him a smile. “In the end, she’s nothing more than a slave.”
She gestured for him to leave with a wave of her hand and Assou didn’t have to be asked a second time. His legs followed her will with such haste that he almost bit his tongue. Obeying her in this way would only please her, and yet he wanted to gain as much distance as the gods could grant him as quickly as possible. He had to get away from her, and he had to find Fatrada. A few words with her would improve the circumstances. She would come to understand him better if she hadn’t yet realised why he was doing all this.
He shook his head. Fatrada knew. She knew his heart belonged to her alone and that he had to submit to the queen’s will – even as a vizier. It was a little hope he had to cling to.
In the palace bathroom, filled with the sweet scent of scattered flowers, the tjati found peace. The last time he had sat down in the water, the gods had been merciful to him. But this time, they didn’t even seem to be watching him. Instead, he washed the sweat and lust from his body alone before throwing his clothes back on and straightening his shoulders. He couldn’t succumb to Maathorneferure; couldn’t let her get to him while he knew his target.
Neither the watchful shadows in the corridors nor the silence in his study could dissuade him. The Eye of Horus was no longer emblazoned on the wall opposite his room. The heaviness lifted, even if the situation itself remained a catastrophe. It was impossible to tell what Maathorneferure was planning. Her words still bit at his ears. He should have chosen Fatrada. He should have acted more wisely. His every decision reared up against him. Whatever he did, it wasn’t good enough. Waiting settled like poison in his flesh and yet, there was nothing he could have done.
If he rushed his plan, he would be executed. The festival in favour of Meritamen was the best opportunity he had. It gave him time to present Maathorneferure with a choice and perhaps dig her a grave into which she would push herself. But it would be a while before the feast. The tides hadn’t passed by often enough. He had to hold out until his ideas were to become reality.
With a sigh, he sat down behind his low table and picked up a blank piece of papyrus. He had to record the last events of the slaves, the new regulations and also the day for the next taxes. Money he probably wouldn’t collect himself, because he couldn’t let Maathorneferure out of his sight. There were trustworthy collectors who could be utilised. It was security playing into his hands.
The rush brushed over the papyrus, tracing the individual symbols, the lines of which he couldn’t get nearly as clean as what he had seen in the message for Fatrada. A wondrously beautiful style of drawing only a few scholars had mastered – if any. Maged might have been able to do it. He was out of the ordinary. And yet, he was a messenger; someone who could be commissioned to solve the questions that arose.
Assou gave a barely perceptible nod. As soon as Maged returned, his next task would be to gather urgent information. Little things that were certainly no challenge for this boy.
But Assou’s rush barely managed two more hieroglyphs before Fatrada crept back into his thoughts; her shallow smile completely absent from the palace. He remembered the gleam in her eyes that had looked at him with utter distaste. Circumstances had twisted her, turned her into a woman he didn’t want to see like that. He had to save her, take her into his possession before Maathorneferure made her unrecognisable.
Again, he shook his head hastily. Fatrada wasn’t an object to be owned, and it was impossible to take a slave from Maathorneferure. She was the third Great Royal Queen. She was probably one of the most powerful women in the palace after Ramesses and the other two queens. As the conscience of the pharaoh, Assou had no more power than a messenger of the gods. Ramesses was a god incarnate and his wives carried on the honourable line. Assou was the messenger of this god. Important, but not irreplaceable.
Slowly, he put down the rush and supported himself backwards on his hands. The distraction in his head was too great to push it away. Outdoing Maathorneferure became a little more complicated with every idea he crushed. The only thing to do was to conquer Fatrada. He had to get Maathorneferure to give him her slave willingly.
But depriving a monster of its toy tasted a little impossible. To convince Maathorneferure, he needed more than a few poisonous words, which she would laugh at no less than he had done. She had to have a reason for no longer wanting Fatrada.
Pretending he didn’t care about her was an option. A difficult one, considering that Maathorneferure never seemed satisfied. Perhaps that was the only reason she would sell Fatrada. It couldn’t be ruled out, and even if he could win a sale, no one assured him the peace of mind of being able to house Fatrada in the palace afterwards with a clear conscience. She wouldn’t even be safe in his own house.