She came to the palace the next morning.
I was reviewing coronation preparations with Kiya when a servant announced a visitor—a woman from the Temple of Anubis, requesting a private audience with the future Queen. No name given. None needed.
I found Tia waiting in a small receiving room, her coarse servant's linen a stark contrast to the gilded furnishings. She looked even more diminished in palace surroundings, her fall from grace measured in every frayed thread.
"I've made my decision," she said without preamble. "I'll do it."
No greeting. No pleasantries. Just capitulation, delivered with the bitter efficiency of someone who'd spent a sleepless night wrestling with pride and losing.
"Why?" I asked, though I already knew.
"Because scrubbing temple floors for the rest of my life isn't living. It's waiting to die." Her jaw tightened. "You offered me a way out. I'd be a fool not to take it, even if it means serving someone I once tried to destroy."
Pragmatism over pride. Survival over grudge. I understood that calculation better than anyone.
“Then you already know what to do.” I say. “The priests at Anubis handle death rites—they're not directly involved in whatever Ptahmose is planning, but temples talk. Gossip flows between clergy like wine at festivals."
"And if I find something?" Her eyes had sharpened with purpose now. A survivor recognizing opportunity.
"Send word through the palace laundry. A woman named Merit collects linens from the temple district every third day. Give her a message for Lady Kiya—she'll ensure it reaches me. Memorize the system. Don't write it down."
Tia nodded slowly. "This network you're building—how long have you been planning it?"
"Long enough." I didn't owe her explanations. "I understand." Bitterness still edged her voice, but beneath it I heard relief—someone drowning, finally offered a rope. "There's something I can tell you now. A gesture of good faith."
I waited, careful not to show too much interest.
"Your stepfather has been receiving correspondence. Private letters, delivered by messengers who don't wear temple colors." Tia glanced toward the door, ensuring we remained unobserved. "The priests gossip when they think servants aren't listening. They've noticed the messengers, noticed Ptahmose's increased security around his private chambers."
"Do you know who's sending the letters?"
"Not the sender. But I've seen the seal." She met my eyes. "One of the junior priests was careless—left a letter on a table while fetching wine. I only glimpsed it for a moment, but the seal was distinctive. A bird of some kind, with spread wings and a crown."
My pulse quickened. "Describe it exactly."
"Golden wax, pressed with a falcon wearing the double crown of Egypt. The image was surrounded by rays—like the sun, but not quite. More like..." She paused, searching for words. "Like the falcon was the source of the light itself."
I went very still.
The description matched nothing from the Temple of Ptah, nothing from Osiris or Anubis. But I'd seen that symbol before—carved into ancient walls, painted on tomb ceilings, described in the scrolls Seth had shown me during our stolen hours together.
"Are you certain?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "A falcon with the double crown, surrounded by rays?"
"Certain." Tia's expression shifted, reading something in my reaction that made her wary. "You recognize it."
"I recognize it."
The mark of Horus. God of kingship, of the sky, of divine order. The falcon-headed deity who represented everything Seth was not—stability where Seth embodied chaos, order where Seth brought upheaval. Seth's eternal rival—the nephew who had battled him for supremacy across centuries, who had rallied the other gods against him, who had ultimately engineered the binding that imprisoned Seth for three hundred years.
Ptahmose wasn't just working with the Keepers of Ma'at. He was corresponding directly with priests who served Seth's oldest and most powerful enemy.
"What does it mean?" Tia asked, watching my reaction with growing unease.
"It means my stepfather's allies are more powerful than I realized." I forced my expression neutral, masking the fear coiling cold in my stomach. "It means the threat extends far beyond temple politics. It means we're dealing with forces that have shaped Egypt's destiny for millennia."
"Should I try to learn more? About the letters, the messengers—"
"No." The word came out sharp. "Not yet. Horus's priests are dangerous—far more dangerous than ordinary clergy. If they suspect you're gathering information, they won't hesitate to silence you permanently."
Tia paled slightly, but nodded. "Then what should I do?"
"Exactly what I said before. Listen. Watch. Report on Ptahmose's movements, his visitors, anything unusual in the temple district. But don't actively investigate the Horus connection. Don't ask questions that might draw attention."
"And you?"
"I'll handle the larger picture." I straightened, preparing to leave. "The coronation is in two days. After that, I'll have resources to pursue this properly. Until then, stay safe, stay quiet, and don't take unnecessary risks."
Tia inclined her head—not quite a bow, but acknowledgment. "I never thought I'd be working for you."
"Life rarely goes as planned."
She left without further ceremony. I stood alone in the receiving room, my mind racing with implications. Horus. The god who had hated Seth since before recorded history, who had fought wars across heaven and earth to destroy him, who had celebrated when Seth was finally bound and imprisoned.
If Horus's priests were involved in Ptahmose's scheme, this wasn't just about re-binding Seth. This was about finishing what they'd started millennia ago. Destroying him utterly, scattering his essence so completely that even eternity couldn't reassemble him.
And they needed me to do it.
The mark I carried—Nephthys's blessing—was the key that had unlocked Seth's prison. But keys worked both ways. The same power that freed him could be twisted, corrupted, turned into a weapon against the god I'd saved.
I walked back toward the palace in the fading afternoon light, my escort trailing silently behind. The city bustled around me—merchants hawking wares, children chasing each other through alleys, priests performing their endless rituals at roadside shrines. Normal life, continuing as if the gods themselves weren't gathering for war behind temple walls.
The Nile glittered in the distance, golden with sunset. I'd walked into that river once, intending to die. Instead, I'd found Seth. Found a connection that had transformed everything—my life, my future, my understanding of what was possible.
Now that connection might be the very thing that destroyed him.
Two days until the coronation. Two days until I officially became Queen, with all the power and protection that title carried. Two days to prepare for enemies far more formidable than my scheming stepfather and bitter sister.
I needed to warn Seth. Needed to tell Ram what I'd learned. Needed to prepare for enemies far more formidable than my scheming stepfather and bitter sister.
But first, I needed to survive the next forty-eight hours. Because if Horus's priests were watching—and they almost certainly were—they might decide to act before I gained the authority to stop them. The coronation would make me untouchable by Egyptian law. That gave them every reason to strike before the crown settled on my head.
My birthmark throbbed with warmth against my collarbone, as if responding to my fear. Or perhaps as if Seth, wherever he was watching from, sensed the danger gathering around us both.
Two days, I thought. Just survive two days.
I walked faster, the palace rising before me like a fortress. I wasn't sure I could protect anyone from what was coming. But I'd survived worse odds before. Survived my stepfather's cruelty, the harem's politics, divine possession and separation.
I would survive this too.
I had to.