Chapter 2 A Queen Amongst Shadows

The golden morning light streamed through the carved pillars of Neferet's chamber, casting long shadows over the polished marble floors. The palace buzzed with its usual rhythm-servants moving in quiet efficiency, guards stationed at their posts, the distant sound of the Nile lapping against the banks beyond the royal gardens.

Neferet stood before a tall bronze mirror, arms raised as attendants draped her in a flowing linen gown, the color of the desert before dusk, lined with deep sapphire embroidery. Gold cuffs encircled her wrists, catching the sunlight with every movement. The weight of the broad collar resting against her collarbone was familiar, its inlaid lapis lazuli and turquoise reflecting the power she carried on her shoulders.

As Sitra, her maidservant, adjusted the delicate golden chains that wove through her dark braids, Neferet studied her own reflection.

Her body was built like the land of Kemet itself-strong, elegant, sculpted by sun and discipline. Her waist curved into smooth hips, her toned arms a quiet boldness against the delicate image of a royal daughter. Where other women of the court were soft, untouched by the burdens of war, she was carved from fire and duty, her every motion a blend of refinement and restraint.

"You will turn every head today," Sitra murmured, fastening the last braid.

Neferet smirked. "I turn them whether I want to or not."

Sitra sighed. "That is not always a good thing."

Neferet did not answer. She had long since learned that power was both a gift and a burden, one that men resented, and women envied. But today, she did not have time for palace expectations. She had work to do.

As soon as the last finishing touches were done, Neferet dismissed her attendants and stepped toward the balcony, her fingers brushing against the smooth stone railing. The city stretched beyond the palace walls-Thebes, her kingdom, her people. The streets below were alive with merchants, workers, priests, and beggars. And beneath the surface of their daily lives, the whispers of unrest spread like wildfire.

She needed to see it herself.

Turning from the view, Neferet moved quickly, unfastening the heavy collar from her neck, slipping off the elaborate robe until she stood in only a simple linen tunic. From beneath her bed, she pulled out a worn, earth-toned cloak, the kind any commoner might wear.

A princess by day, a shadow by choice.

She pulled the hood low over her face and slipped through the servant's passageway, her pulse steady, her mind sharp. She had done this before, but today, the stakes were higher.

Today, she was not just running from duty. She was running toward the truth.

---

The city smelled of spice and sweat, of freshly baked bread and the musk of beasts carrying goods along the crowded roads. The pulse of Thebes was steady, but beneath the usual rhythm, Neferet sensed something different.

She moved through the narrow alleys with purpose, her eyes flicking between the vendors shouting their wares, the children darting between stalls, the men gathered in quiet clusters-talking and whispering.

She stopped near a pottery stand, pretending to examine a painted vase while listening.

"The grain shipments have slowed again," a man muttered under his breath.

"They say the soldiers took more than half for themselves," another added.

Neferet's grip tightened around the ceramic vase, the Pharaoh had not ordered any such thing-so who had?

"From what I heard, the general ordered for it to be so" The first man said

"Rahotep" Neferet whispered to herself, her voiced entwined with growing disgust. Before she could linger, a hand brushed against her arm.

She turned sharply, already reaching for the dagger hidden beneath her cloak, but a familiar smirk greeted her.

Kiya.

The woman stood at ease, arms crossed, her golden-brown eyes gleaming with amusement. She wore the same loose, dark garments that allowed her to move unnoticed, her short curls framing her sharp face.

"You're predictable," Kiya mused. "For someone who shouldn't be here, you always seem to find trouble."

Neferet exhaled, relaxing slightly. "And yet, I'm never caught."

Kiya raised a brow. "Not yet."

The amusement faded from her face as she glanced around. "You shouldn't stay long. Rahotep's men are stationed near the docks-they're looking for someone."

Neferet frowned. "Who?"

Kiya hesitated. Then, with a careful reach into her cloak, she pulled out a sealed parchment, the wax bearing no royal insignia-only a mark Neferet did not recognize.

"Information," Kiya said, "but it won't be free."

Neferet studied her, the weight of the moment settling between them. Kiya was no friend, no enemy, she was her own force, loyal only to herself.

"What do you want?" Neferet asked.

Kiya smirked. "When the time comes, I'll tell you."

A dangerous bargain, but Neferet had never been afraid of danger.

She took the parchment and tucked it beneath her cloak. "Then let's hope I'm feeling generous when that time comes."

Kiya chuckled, stepping back into the shadows. "Be careful, Princess, you're not as invisible as you think."

The words rang true sooner than Neferet expected, a merchant across the street had gone still, his eyes locked onto her. Another man whispered to his companion, their gazes flickering toward her cloaked figure.

Recognition.

She was being watched, Neferet turned sharply, her heart pounding. Time to leave.

---

Back at the palace, the tension was rising.

"The Princess is missing."

The words spread through the halls like wildfire, murmurs growing louder as servants whispered among themselves.

Rahotep stood before the Pharaoh, his expression unclear, though his voice carried just enough concern to mask his intent.

"She disappears often," he said, "wandering the city without guards, without care, should we not question what it is she does when no one is watching?"

Neferet's maidservant, Sitra, stepped forward, her chin lifted. "The Princess is attending to private matters of the court."

Rahotep turned to her, his gaze piercing. "And yet, we have no word of her whereabouts, curious, don't you think?"

The tension thickened, but then-the Pharaoh spoke.

"Enough."

Rahotep stiffened as Amenemhat leaned forward, his dark eyes sharp despite the fatigue lining his face.

"My daughter has my trust," he said, his tone firm. "Do you question my judgment, General?"

The room fell silent.

Neferet was not there to see the flick of anger in Rahotep's eyes, but the damage had been done.

A wound to his pride, a reminder of his place and deep beneath the surface, a foreshadowing of what was to come.

---

Neferet slipped through the palace corridors, her breath steady, though her heart still raced from the close call in the city.

She had nearly been recognized, she pulled off the dusty cloak, stuffing it behind a pillar as she stepped into the dimly lit halls, moving quickly toward her chamber.

Then-

A shadow moved, before she could react, a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back against the wall.

A voice, low and sharp.

"Where have you been?"

Neferet's stomach dropped.