Neferet’s fingers worked swiftly in the pre-dawn darkness, weaving lotus blossoms and jasmine into Princess Meritet’s long black hair. The sweet scent of the flowers mingled with the burning incense that wafted through the palace chambers, marking the start of another day in the royal court of Egypt.

“They’re watching me again,” Meritet murmured, her dark eyes meeting Neferet’s in the polished copper mirror. “Lord Amenemhat’s family. During yesterday’s festival, they barely looked away.”

Neferet’s hands stilled for just a moment before continuing their practiced motions. At twenty-one, she was only two years older than the princess she served, but sometimes she felt decades more weathered by the weight of all she observed in these gilded halls.

“Perhaps they simply admire your beauty, my princess,” Neferet replied carefully, though she had noticed the attention too. The noble family’s sudden interest in Meritet had begun three months ago, when Pharaoh announced his intention to name his successor before the next flood season.

Meritet’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “You see more than you say, Neferet. You always have.” She reached up and caught Neferet’s hand, squeezing it briefly. “That’s why I trust you above all others.”

The princess’s trust was both a blessing and a burden. As Meritet’s personal attendant since childhood, Neferet had witnessed countless secrets and schemes within the royal court. She knew which nobles whispered together in shadowed corners, which priests accepted bribes to share the contents of private prayers, and which servants carried messages between rival families.

Lately, those whispers had grown louder, the shadows deeper. Pharaoh had three children: Meritet, her older brother Amenhotep, and their younger brother Kahmose. While Amenhotep was the natural heir, his reckless behavior and disregard for religious traditions had created a rift between him and the powerful priesthood. Some believed Kahmose would be chosen instead, despite his youth.

But there were others who whispered of a third path – one that would see Meritet take the throne, backed by a strategic marriage to strengthen her claim.

“Lord Amenemhat’s eldest son has returned from the northern provinces,” Neferet said quietly, securing the last flower in place. “I saw him arrive last night.”

Meritet’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Neferet caught the slight tension in her shoulders. “Nakht was always ambitious,” the princess mused. “Even when we were children, he spoke of nothing but power and destiny.”

“He speaks of destiny still,” Neferet added, “but now he speaks of yours being intertwined with his.”

The princess stood, her simple white linen dress falling in perfect pleats around her slender form. Gold bracelets chimed softly at her wrists as she moved to the window, gazing out at the palace gardens below. “And what do you hear of the Sekhmet priestesses’ opinions, my clever friend?”

Neferet busied herself gathering the remaining flowers, buying time to choose her words carefully. The priestesses of Sekhmet held considerable influence, and their support could sway Pharaoh’s decision. “They say that Lord Amenemhat makes generous offerings at their temple. But they also whisper that his son’s ambitions may upset Ma’at – the natural order of things.”

Meritet nodded slowly. “And the other families? What games do they play in these shadows?”

“The house of Sennefer grows closer to Prince Kahmose by the day. Their daughter Kiya has become his constant companion.” Neferet paused, then added, “But it’s interesting that Lord Sennefer still sends his most trusted scribe to copy the temple records of royal successions from the past century.”

A soft knock at the door interrupted them. Another servant entered, bowing low. “Princess, your presence is requested in the great hall. The Pharaoh holds court this morning.”

As Meritet prepared to leave, she turned to Neferet. “Walk with me. I find I need your steady presence today.”

They moved through the palace corridors, their sandals whispering against the limestone floors. Painted scenes of battles and offerings to the gods adorned the walls, their colors still vivid in the morning light. As they approached the great hall, the sounds of conversation and music grew louder.

Neferet fell into her practiced position, three steps behind the princess, close enough to attend to any needs but far enough to show proper deference. From here, she could observe everything while appearing to see nothing.

The great hall was already crowded with nobles, priests, and foreign dignitaries. Lord Amenemhat stood with his son Nakht, both wearing fine linen robes and elaborate gold collars. Nakht’s eyes followed Meritet as she made her way to her place beside the throne, his expression hungry with ambition.

On the other side of the hall, Lord Sennefer spoke quietly with a group of priests, while his wife watched Prince Kahmose with the calculating gaze of a woman plotting her family’s rise to power. The young prince himself seemed oblivious to the currents of intrigue swirling around him, laughing at something Kiya had whispered in his ear.

As Pharaoh entered, all conversation ceased. He moved with the quiet authority of one who had ruled for decades, though Neferet noted the slight stiffness in his movements that betrayed his advancing age. This, she knew, was what drove the noble families to position themselves so urgently – the knowledge that change was coming, and with it, opportunity.

The morning’s business began: disputes were settled, appointments were made, rewards were given for service to the crown. Through it all, Neferet watched and listened, gathering the threads of conversation and gesture that would help her guide her princess through these treacherous waters.

She saw how Nakht positioned himself to catch Meritet’s eye, how he spoke with careful deference that nonetheless carried an undertone of presumption. She noticed Lord Amenemhat’s subtle signals to his allies among the nobles, building a web of support for whatever move he planned to make.

But she also saw something that others missed – the way Princess Meritet’s fingers tapped against her chair in a pattern Neferet recognized from their childhood games. A request for a private conversation, urgent but not endangered.

When court concluded, Neferet followed her princess not to her chambers but to the small temple of Isis within the palace grounds. Here, among the sacred lotus pools, they could speak without fear of being overheard.

“Tell me truly,” Meritet said once they were alone, “what path do you see before us?”

Neferet considered carefully before answering. “Lord Amenemhat seeks to bind his son’s destiny to yours, believing that together you could sway Pharaoh’s choice of successor. He builds alliances, gathers support, positions his pieces like a master Senet player.” She paused, then added, “But he is not the only one who plays this game.”

“No,” Meritet agreed, trailing her fingers through the sacred pool. “Lord Sennefer thinks he plays it better, using my brother Kahmose as his gateway to powerfda. And somewhere in between, Amenhotep rages against them all, claiming his birthright while destroying his own chances of claiming it.”

“The nobles see three paths to power,” Neferet said carefully, “but perhaps there is a fourth that they have not considered.”

Meritet’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Tell me more, my friend.”

“The nobles fight among themselves, each seeking to control the next Pharaoh. But what if…” Neferet chose her next words with utmost care, “what if the next Pharaoh could not be controlled? What if she had spent years watching, learning, understanding the games of power while others thought her merely a piece to be played?”

A slow smile spread across Meritet’s face. “Go on.”

“You have the support of the temple priestesses – not because of offerings like Lord Amenemhat gives, but because they have watched you grow, seen your devotion to Ma’at, your understanding of divine and earthly law. The common people love you because you listen to their troubles and speak for them in court. And the servants…” Neferet allowed herself a small smile, “the servants see everything, know everything, and they remember who treats them with kindness.”

“And what of Lord Amenemhat and his ambitious son?” Meritet asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

“Let them think they play their own game,” Neferet replied, “while we play a deeper one. Let them believe they weave the web, while in truth they tangle themselves in its strings.”

Meritet reached out and took Neferet’s hands in hers. “My father once told me that a pharaoh’s greatest power lies not in commanding others, but in knowing when to listen to wise counsel.” She squeezed Neferet’s fingers gently. “I think perhaps he was right.”

Together they stood in the temple’s peaceful shadows, servant and princess, friends and allies, while around them the lotus flowers bloomed in the sacred pool, their perfect petals reaching toward the light. Above them, painted on the temple walls, the goddess Isis spread her protective wings, watching over those who understood that true power often lay in the quiet spaces between grand gestures, in the wisdom of those who saw everything while appearing to see nothing at all.

In the distance, the palace bustled with plots and schemes, but here in this moment, Neferet knew that the real game was only just beginning. And this time, they would write the rules themselves.

Photo by David McEachan