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Urit-ami-t-Tuat - Satakhetem - 5/23/2026
Satakhetem lay motionless upon the obsidian plinth, black furs spilling around her like liquid night. Though her eyes were half-closed, her ears remained sharp and attentive. The door to her chamber had been left slightly ajar — whether by carelessness or design, she did not know — but she took full advantage of it.
Two fellahin were cleaning the corridor just outside. Their voices drifted in, low and gossipy.
...that new princess is causing quite the stir,the older female murmured.
But at least she’s not the only strange royal blood we’ve got now.
The younger male chuckled.
You mean Aiesha? Senmut's daughter?
Aye. The one who refuses to be called princess. Can you believe it? Born from some sacred fertility rite, so says the rumor; daughter of a Pharaoh — even if it was only for a short time — and she insists on working as a common mazoi. Always asking to be sent on long-range patrols. Wants nothing to do with the palace life.
The female clicked her tongue.
I heard her father gave up his crown willingly when he came here, and now the daughter does the same with her title. Some say it’s humility. Others say she’s ashamed of her blood. Either way, she’s been assigned to guard duty for the new amiirad’s door. Poor thing. Trapped between two royal storms.
Their voices faded as they moved further down the hall.
Satakhetem’s eyes opened fully. A slow, calculating smile curved her lips. She rose from the plinth with predatory grace and moved toward the door, listening until the corridor was silent once more.
Aiesha...she whispered to herself, tasting the name.
How very interesting.
She glanced at the emerging Triple Sun on the wall, then back toward the door with cold, possessive satisfaction.
This girl could be useful.
Very useful.