31: Strong

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No matter how far he roamed from the capital, it seemed Atem's kingly duties were destined to follow. Before the sun even rose on his second day in Memphis, he'd been roused and summoned to the Temple of Sekhmet to preside over an impromptu court session. Apparently, Aknadin's rather intermittent presence over the past two months had led to a backlog of unfinished tasks and problems that needed solving.

Atem and his Guardians spent most of the morning negotiating with an envoy from a neighboring nome, whose nomark was asking for funding to build a new irrigation system ahead of the upcoming peret season. Simple as the solution seemed, Atem found himself a bit lost when it came to the dull and tedious topic of accounting, especially without Shimon's keen eye to guide him. It was nearing noon by the time an agreement was struck, and Atem breathed a sigh of relief as the nomark and his envoy finally left the court hall.

Fearing even the slightest idleness would give rise to another problem, Atem quickly rose up and made for the exit as well, stopping to address his Guardians on the way. "Would any of you happen to know where I could find the queen?" he asked them.

Mahad lowered his head. "I believe she was last seen in the temple pavilion, your highness."

Atem gave an abashed smile — though he was completely unfamiliar with the layout of Memphis' largest temple complex, Satiah likely knew it like the back of her hand. "Right," he said, "and where exactly is that?"

"I believe it's off the northwest wing of the grounds, my king," Aknadin explained. "Would you like me to take you there?"

Atem waved him off. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary," he said. "Please — see that we aren't disturbed until the afternoon."

All three Guardians bowed their understanding, after which Atem set off in search of his wife. He knew from the position of the sun that he was heading in vaguely the right direction, but after walking for what felt like five straight minutes, he seemed no closer to finding anything which resembled a pavilion. Finally, when he was sure he'd passed the same statue for a third time, Atem stopped and looked around for a worker or servant who might be able to help him. He spied a woman bent over weeding a nearby garden bed, and with a clear of his throat, he moved in her direction.

"Excuse me," he started, "would you be so kind as to show me to—"

The woman straightened and turned, and Atem's heart nearly stopped at the sight: Ibi was standing before him, her sandy eyes flown wide. She gasped and dropped her gardening tools, her hands snapping up to cover her mouth.

"Atem," she hissed.

Immediately, he cast his eyes around the narrow open-air pathway in which they stood. Thankfully, there were no priests or guards within earshot, though another group of servants was working on a garden bed further down the path. Ibi must have sensed their prying eyes, as she quickly stooped into a low bow, which seemed banal enough a motion for the servants to return to their duties.

"My Pharaoh," Ibi said loudly, her head still angled low. "How can I be of service to you?"

Atem cleared his throat again. "Could I trouble you to show me to the temple pavilion?" he asked.

Ibi straightened, her cheeks looking unusually pallid. "Of course, my king." She motioned with her hand, then led the way through a nearby gate. Atem kept close to her, his heart thumping loudly in his ears as they turned a corner into a covered corridor. A few steps in, Atem looked over his shoulder. Once satisfied they were alone, he addressed Ibi in a whisper.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Amarna."

Ibi slowed her pace at this, shooting him a hesitating look. "A short-lived arrangement, I'm afraid," she said. "The master of my house there was well-known for asking his female servants to work ... after hours. I didn't much care for that — so I left."

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