Crucible of Fate

near the back of the roof gardens. To get to our bedroom, you came up a winding staircase and there encountered a wrought-iron gate that remained locked at all times. Once that was opened, you stepped out onto an enormous stamped concrete terrace that had a view of the main courtyard and, beyond that, miles of desert and hills. Walking the length of the patio brought you to a set of pivoting glass doors, and through them was our area. 
    Inside the suite, to the left was a wall of floor to ceiling pivoting windows that resembled the doors but half the size. When everything was open, a warm breeze blew through the space and it felt open and airy. The room itself was a thousand square feet, with a bathroom and a smaller balcony on the opposite side that ate into the space. On the main terrace section you had to cross to get to our private quarters, one portion of the area was the garden with acacia trees, papyrus, blue lotus that grew near the reflecting pools, and bougainvillea. The other part of the enclosure had a table, chairs, and many lavish chaise lounges. There was also an enormous canopy covering it and drains built in so rainwater couldn’t flood the space, though, being Egypt, rain was rarely a problem. It was quiet and serene, and I had moved my bedroom there the second week I was in Sobek. It was supposed to be a place the semel retired to for reflection, but I claimed it for Yuri and me.
    The servants had been scandalized by me taking such quaint accommodations, and they were further stunned when I converted the lavish quarters of the former semel-aten into several smaller guest rooms. No one understood why I was so insistent about my privacy. I didn’t need people to clean my room or dust it, and I didn’t want anyone but Yuri going through my personal things, poking around or snooping. Laundry could go down the chute, and that was it. No one came in; trays of food were left at the gate and picked up there. I knew it was strange for them—I was strange, and the word kadish was used a lot.
    “What is that?” I had asked Taj.
    He spoke softly, kindly. “Domin, they say you are kadish , impure, because you do not know the truth of your station. You have to let them serve you.”
    “I do! All my meals are prepared, the villa is cleaned, and other people who visit are cared for… I don’t get it.”
    “You need to be seen in your home; you can’t hide up there in the gardens.”
    “I don’t hide!” I insisted.
    The lift of one dark brow said differently.
    Alone now, leaning against an enormous stone pillar, I had time to think about the situation I found myself in. 
    It seemed like an endless problem. The people in my home didn’t feel like they belonged to me unless I ordered them around. I wanted to treat them better than that, to ask instead of order and say please and thank you. But apparently, that was very poor manners on my part. It was exhausting. I was supposed to be the kind of semel I could no longer be; going back to being a selfish prick did not seem like a step in the right direction although, after my behavior of the past two weeks, no one would call me anything but a tyrant.
    I realized that I would be better—mood, attitude, everything—if my mate was not gone. As it was, the past fourteen days without Yuri were wearing on me. I hadn’t even been able to talk to him because he’d taken the wrong phone, and… I missed him and I wanted to see him and touch him. The whole thing was a mess. I shouldn’t have let him leave at all. I was an idiot.
    “I hate this,” I muttered to no one.
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    Turning, I found Mikhail, having reappeared, staring at me like I was stupid.
    “I thought you had a meeting,” I groused.
    “It was moved to four,” Mikhail ground out.
    “By who?”
    “By one of your akers, a manu, Alhaji Yacouba, who was running late getting back from a day trip to Cairo.”
    “Why do you care?”
    “I don’t, but apparently Ammon’s sylvan, Traore Uago, did and decided to wait for the man.”
    I studied him, wondering why he let that happen. It wasn’t like Mikhail to allow other people to change his schedule. “What are you going to do?”
    Mikhail drew in a slow breath. “I’m going to remind Traore that he is no longer the sylvan, that his rank is now shefdew—”
    “I think you just called the man a papyrus scroll,” I pointed out.
    “I did?”
    I raised an eyebrow.
    “Then how do you say scribe?”
    “I’ll look