The Pharaoh summoned Karem and me to the palace before dawn. When we entered the hall, she sat on a raised seat, two guards standing behind her. There was no sternness on her face.
"Amenemhet, Karem," she addressed us directly. "This year has been good for Egypt. The harvest was plentiful, and the Festival of Hathor is approaching—it must be greater than ever before. I want it to be a celebration that will be spoken of for generations."
Her eyes turned to me. "But a great festival also requires oversight. We cannot allow chaos or abuse. I want the two of you to oversee the preparations and the event itself. I want everything to run without problems. Do you understand?"
Karem immediately bowed. "I understand, my queen. We will do what is necessary."
I nodded. "Tell us exactly what you expect."
"I want the temples ready, the offerings gathered on time, and the people to feel safe," she replied. "Hathor is the goddess of joy, dance, and wine. But when people drink and lose themselves in celebration, trouble can follow. Your task will be to ensure that the night of joy does not turn into disorder. And that before the goddess, I do not appear as a ruler who cannot control her people."
Karem smiled, as if the thought of a grand festival pleased him. "It will be done, my queen."
She looked at me longer than at him. "Amenemhet, I trust you. Make sure nothing goes wrong. You know what it means when honor to the gods is not given in the right way. This year has been good for Egypt, but we must not underestimate anything."
I nodded. "I'll see to it."
She smiled, but her smile carried a shadow of seriousness. "Good. I expect both of you to show that my trust was well placed."
When we left the hall, Karem leaned toward me and whispered, "So, we'll be guardians of the revelry. Sounds like work I won't mind."
I gave him a stricter look. "You won't just be drinking with the others. The responsibility will fall on us to make sure everything runs properly. That's no small matter."
Karem only waved his hand, but I could see in his eyes that he understood.
Drums and flutes echoed through the city, the smell of wine and roasted meat mixing with the voices of women and the laughter of men. The Festival of Hathor had begun, and all of Egypt threw itself into celebration. The streets were full of dancing; people drank and kissed openly, exactly as the goddess of joy and desire demanded.
I stood aside, near the entrance to the main street leading to the temple, and watched. I kept an eye on everything, checking if chaos would break out or if anyone tried to use the festival for other purposes.
Karem stayed close to me at first, but his eyes shone more and more with wine, and his steps carried him toward the crowd and laughter.
"I won't just stand and watch," he laughed as he leaned closer to me. "I'll enjoy it for a while. Hathor would want it."
I didn't stop him. Karem was young, fiery, and the festival was meant for people to loosen themselves. But I still kept my eyes on him.
Soon, I noticed three women clinging to him more than the others. They laughed, touched his arms and clothes, one even kissed his neck. Karem let himself be pulled into a side alley, still smiling, completely unaware of what was happening.
A bad feeling stirred in me. Something about those women was too direct, too deliberate. It wasn't just desire for fun. It was a trap.
I decided to follow. I moved quietly, keeping to the shadows, watching as they led him deeper into the narrow alley, far from the crowd.
Then I saw it. When the laughter stopped and Karem turned for a moment, one of them pulled a small knife. Another pushed him against the wall, and the third covered his mouth so he couldn't shout.
Karem was trapped, and he didn't even realize it until now.
"Damn it," I growled and rushed forward.
My steps echoed against the stone, and the women turned. At that moment, Karem saw the knife in front of him, and only then did he realize what was happening.
But it was already too late. The blade was raised.
I lunged forward and hit the woman with the knife hard enough to knock her to the ground. The blade slipped from her hand and scraped across the stone. I grabbed the second one by the shoulder and threw her aside before she could cut Karem.
"Run!" I shouted at him, but he had already drawn his dagger and stood ready at my side.
The women no longer looked like dancers. Their eyes were cold, their movements confident—like those who had killed before. They weren't courtesans. They were assassins.
The alley was narrow, the rough stone walls scraping at my shoulders. The air was heavy, no music or laughter here — only the sound of breathing, rustling cloth, and the glint of knives.
"Karem, stay behind me!" I barked as the first assassin raised her blade again.
"No!" he snapped back, throwing himself forward, slashing at her wrist with his dagger. She hissed, her knife clattering to the ground. Karem kicked it away, but another attacker was already on him, swinging a heavy club.
The blow landed close, too close. The crack of wood on stone rattled my ears. Karem dodged, but I knew I had no choice.
I jumped in front of him.
The strike meant for him slammed into me. Pain burst through my shoulder, bone cracking, fire shooting down my chest. My breath caught, but I stayed on my feet.
"No, Karem," I growled, "you're the one who has to live. I'll hold them!"
His eyes widened. "You're insane! They'll tear you apart!"
The woman sneered, thinking I was finished. I stepped forward, seizing her club with both hands. Blood ran down my arm, but I didn't let go.
"Run!" I shouted at him.
Instead, he shoved into my side, covering me with his body and smashing his elbow into her face. Bone cracked, she crumpled against the wall.
But the third attacker was already there. A knife ripped across my side, hot blood spilling down my ribs. My legs faltered, yet I dragged her with me to the ground. The blade went deeper as I rolled, crushing her wrist against the stone with all my weight.
Karem roared, furious: "Stop playing with your life!"
I didn't look at him, just hissed through the pain. "You know I won't die. But you will. Stay back!"
One assassin lay unconscious. The other two bolted, their footsteps vanishing into the dark alleys.
That left the one pinned beneath me. My blood dripped onto the stones as Karem helped bind her hands behind her back with a strip of cord from his belt.
"You're lucky you're still breathing," I rasped. "You'll answer our questions."
She only laughed, blood running from her nose. "You'll get nothing from me…"
Karem pressed his knee harder into her back, his voice cold: "For now."
That was when my body gave out. The stone floor was cold under me as my vision blurred.
"Amenemhet!" Karem pulled me up, shocked to find me still alive, covered in wounds. "You… you're a madman. An immortal madman!"
"Immortal," I muttered with a bitter grin, "but not painless."
I slumped against his shoulder, gasping, every cut and bruise burning like fire.
"Damn it," Karem growled, "if I see you throw yourself into blades again just because you can't die, I'll kill you myself!"
I smiled through the blood. "Try it."
"We need to hide her," I said quietly.
Karem nodded. We propped her against a low wall behind the houses, where the smoke from torches and the noise of music swallowed every sound. We covered her with an old mat, as if someone had just left trash there.
Karem looked at me, his eyes burning. "We can't just stand here. The people are celebrating, thinking the festival is safe. And you can barely stand."
"That's exactly why," I replied. "No one can know what happened. Not tonight. It has to look like the festival went well. Otherwise, panic spreads and everything we've worked for is wasted."
I bent down and picked up an old, filthy cloak someone had discarded. It was heavy and smelled terrible, but it covered the blood and the wounds on my body. I threw it over my shoulders and fastened it at the chest.
Karem looked as if he wanted to shout. "This is madness. You're bleeding, barely on your feet. And you want to pretend you're fine?"
"I have to," I said firmly. "If I don't, everything falls apart. No one must see I'm injured. And no one must know assassins struck during the celebration. Tomorrow we'll deal with it. Not tonight."
He was silent for a moment, then clenched his fists. "I hate it when you're right."
I grabbed the captive woman by the arm and together we dragged her through the back alleys, where music and laughter drowned her muffled cries. Every step tore at my muscles; I could feel the blood clinging to my wounds beneath the cloak, but I kept my face calm.
We reached the palace. The guards recognized us and let us in without questions. Everyone believed we were coming to deliver news of success.
In the great hall, oil lamps burned. The Pharaoh sat on the raised throne, surrounded by courtiers. When she saw us, her brow lifted.
I bowed, Karem following my lead. "Great Lady," I began, keeping my voice steady. "The festival was a success. The people drank, danced, and sang in honor of the goddess Hathor. A celebration that surely pleased her heart."
Karem stood tense beside me. I knew he would rather spill the truth immediately, but I gave a slight shake of my head so he would understand — not yet.
The Pharaoh smiled and nodded. "Good. This is a sign Hathor is with us. Egypt grows stronger."
No one noticed the blood beneath my cloak. No one saw the bound woman we had left hidden at the palace storehouse, watched by a loyal guard.
Karem leaned closer, hissing: "This will come back to you. If they don't kill you, your own stubbornness will."
"Maybe," I answered calmly. "But tonight, we succeeded. And that's all that matters