When he took his eyes off the town to look at Amenti again, she had disappeared. The black fur had melted into the darkness, engulfing the cat and leaving only him behind. Automatically, his lungs took a deep breath to call out to her. With luck, she would realise they had lost each other. But his voice remained silent as a light breeze brushed his skin.

“My lord, how good to see you here!”

Assou’s body whirled around, only to catch sight of the messenger he had been tasked with finding out all he could about Fatrada’s husband. He was back sooner than expected.

“I bring word.”

“I thought so.” There was no hiding the sigh on the tjati’s lips. “But how is it you have gathered useful information in such a short time?”

“A web of helping hands,” the messenger replied. “Watchful eyes and inquiring tongues have gathered all they could find. Many people were questioned.”

“And the information?”

“The man’s name is already known to you and that he works in the field as well. But now I can tell you that his financial circumstances are normal to poor. He married his wife a year ago, after they were introduced to each other. It was an arranged marriage to get the wife out of the house and into the hands of a labourer. They are childless.”

Assou’s ears perked up. They had been married without deciding for themselves. Probably that was also the reason they had no children. Perhaps the happy image they revealed was nothing more than a spectacle that crumbled in the evening behind closed doors.

“Furthermore,” the messenger continued, “a few people report that Fatrada and Nagib didn’t like each other very much in the beginning. But the months have brought peace and with it affection.”

Love that hadn’t blossomed yet. He still had a chance. Fatrada’s marriage was not the perfect narrative he had been dreading. There was still space in her heart. Room for him. Air he could breathe in the hope she would accept him at his side; that she wanted to be his.

“Very well. Continue to keep your eyes open.” Without further ado, Assou pressed two gold coins into the messenger’s hand. “There cannot be enough good news.”

The boy bowed, then took his distance and ultimately disappeared into the darkness – straight into the corners where the light of the fire couldn’t reach. This kid knew how to do his job. Amenti, however, was still nowhere to be seen. He had lost sight of her for good and whatever she had wanted to show him, he would never find out. At least not this evening. So he turned and made his way back to his study. Straight into the arms of the exhausted night that engulfed him, too. Somewhere between papyrus and his seat cushion, thoughts of Fatrada grew weary until sleep cradled him uneasily in its arms and the short night gave way to the next morning.

Warm rays of sunlight settled on his skin. Muffled voices drifted into his room from the hallway and the tickle on his nose made him sneeze. Placed on the floor, misusing the seat cushion for his head, he listened to the hurried footsteps chasing up and down the corridors, trying to comply with the pharaoh’s wishes.

Only slowly did Assou dare to turn onto his back. His tired bones hadn’t yet recovered from the previous day and complained about his constant thoughts that had made sleep light. The certainty that Fatrada’s heart wasn’t lost yet had kept the excitement going. Whenever he had closed his eyes, her smile had appeared. And behind it, Nagib. Only this tricky image had made him switch sides again and again. Sometimes his right side had hurt, his left had been too warm, he couldn’t lie on his back and on his stomach he thought he would suffocate in the pillow. The ideas and words of his senses had always been stinging at each other.

The tjati ran a hand over his face before sitting up. The stabbing spine greeted him like an old friend, and his legs felt like the wood used for chairs in some rooms. Perhaps even older and more brittle, because his knees gave way when he tried to pick himself up.

Weakness kept Assou pinned to the floor until a few breaths passed and he pushed himself up from the table. There was something liberating about the cracking in his shoulders and the more movement entered his cells, the easier it became to adjust – even if all this wasn’t supposed to be normal at twenty-six.

With unhurried steps, the vizier dragged himself to the door to make his way to the bathroom, where nothing more waited than the toilet and fresh water the slaves had prepared. The morning routine brought with it a new sense of vitality, washing the sweat of the previous night from him and wrapping his body in new splendour as a slave brought new clothes for him. With a beige shendyt draped around his legs reaching his knees, and a robe that fell lightly to keep the heat off, the sun seemed to rise in his body as well. He was clean, freshly dressed, and ready to go about his work.

His elated steps were clearly set apart from the haste of the slaves. There would be time before Ramesses would need him. So Assou took advantage of the freedom to walk into the city.

It was the same way, the same destination. As on all the other days, when most people made way for him, he didn’t let them take away his good mood. He even wished a few simple people a good morning. Only when he caught sight of the wheat stall did he stop. He needed this moment. Shoulders tightened and back pushed through, he felt a little taller. Not as if Fatrada would notice, considering she towered over him by two hand widths. Then he moved again, sighting the jars and canvas sacks between which Fatrada had positioned herself. Diagonally opposite her, he stopped.

“I see you are hard at work.” With a smile, he waited for her to turn to him and, sure enough, she did with an air of amazement.

“Vizier,” was all she could bring herself to say before she tilted her head and her long hair fell over her shoulder to her narrow chest. “How can I help you today? Do you ask for more of my humble wheat?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “Today I have come to make conversation with you.”

“You are far too kind to someone of my position.” She smiled, if only briefly, before turning away and pulling two bags of wheat tightly shut. “Unfortunately, I am at work and thus cannot spare much time to accommodate your request.”

Most people would have dropped everything for him. But Fatrada was different. She didn’t care who he was most of the time. As long as he brought nothing useful, there was no reason to let the work slide. She had to make a living and talk wouldn’t put a meal on her table.

“Can you spare a little time for me if I buy two sacks of wheat?” he inquired cautiously, and indeed she whirled to face him so that her brown hair swirled around her like a dark storm.

“You want to buy wheat just for me to speak to you?” She seemed amused at his attempt. “You are a strange man, Vizier.”

“Assou,” he interjected. “Please, just call me Assou.”

“Vizier Assou it is.” She smirked before pointing to two sacks. “You can take these.”

Hastily he nodded, paid, but didn’t take the sacks. Instead, his mind wandered through all the issues on his mind. “The last time I was here, I saw your husband.”

“Nagib?” She raised her brows. “Did he do something stupid? He does that sometimes.”

Without further ado, Assou waved it off. “No, no. He was a friendly salesman. But seeing him reminded me how hard it must be to work in the field.”

She shrugged her shoulders. She probably knew endless things to say in reply that weren’t particularly friendly. Someone like him, working in the palace and making sure the Pharaoh stayed rich, lived far too relaxed a life, while others were drowning in hard work, yet barely staying alive.

For a moment Assou regretted his statement, lowered his gaze and yet tried to find more words. “I must confess that I don’t know how such things affect the body.”

“You don’t say, vizier Assou.” The corners of her mouth twitched as she shook her head, the sarcastic tone of her voice taking over.

“I would like to devote a day to study,” he then confessed, even though it was nothing more than a cheap excuse. He didn’t want to go to the field to find out how the people lived and worked there. It had no added value for him or the people. But for Fatrada, he would make those words true if that was what it took for her to recognise him as a man who could make her happy.

“I don’t think you would be very helpful there.” She looked at him. “A man of your status has no business in the fields of this land.”

Did he look so out of place? Probably he really didn’t fit the image of the labourers, but ultimately he, too, was just a man. There was little difference between those who looked after the wheat and those who looked after the administration of the land. Yet she saw no potential in him. And he didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

“I am sure I would find a way to be helpful,” the tjati tried again, but only caught a mild smile from Fatrada.

“You are very stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only when I have to.” He shrugged. “And that’s probably more often than I’d like.”

Still, there was no laugh on her lips. Only the smile remained. Simultaneously, she possessed no more time than the little she offered in these moments, and Assou knew he couldn’t stay forever. Not yet. So he gave her a nod of wordless farewell before turning away and taking his bags of wheat.

His ambling step only slowly put distance between him and Fatrada. Something in him wanted to keep hope alive. Maybe she would look after or call out to him to spend a few blinks longer together. But she was a busy woman. She didn’t care for him.

Pressing his lips together, Assou shook his head. She was a woman of simple status. To retreat and unwind wasn’t something that belonged to part of her monotonous world.

But if she let him, he would change that world. All she had to do was open her eyes and realise that the world was bigger than a wheat stall.

With a sigh, he dismissed that thought, too. Fatrada wasn’t a woman who cared about such trifles. She had her life together and all he could do was find a place in it all. A place in her heart that he had to work for. That was the goal. A simple task that he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from between the others. He had to put the circumstances in better order.

With that, his steps became firmer. What took priority was his work as vizier, while on the side he got rid of Maathorneferure – or at least made sure that she was no longer to be classified as a danger. Apart from that, there was still the issue with the slaves that he had to watch out for. The production and construction work couldn’t be allowed to drop off.

The crowds made it easy for him to get through. Everyone stopped everywhere to look at something that could be used. Small shadows stretched across the paths and the walls of the houses. Watchful eyes pierced him.

And he stopped.