My eyes were open, although I didn't know why. My heart was pounding, my breathing shallow, but my mind was empty. I didn't recall falling asleep, as if a black void swallowed everything that happened after last night's ceremony. I strained into the light of dawn, steading my breathing.

Unlike yesterday, I was alone. Not Kituzda nor any other priestesses were here in the Giparu. Thankfully.

Running the bejewelled comb through the knots in my hair, I took in the silence of the morning.

Here within these walls it was just me, and that was enough. But as soon as I would step outside, I had to put on my mask again. Whether it was the mask of a high priestess or a princess, I wasn't sure anymore. All I knew was that it wasn't me.

Heavy breathing announced Shula's presence, before the stout woman entered the Giparu, tray in hand. "Your meal, En-priestess," she huffed, beats of sweat dripping down her face.

"Please, take some, " I pressed, holding out the bowl of milk. Shula hesitated until her thirst won her judgement and she drank the cool liquid eagerly.

"Thank you, Enheduanna."

"As my mother always used to say; I will give everyone a drink, even though they are an outcast." I said, breaking the bread.

"Your mother, is she Sumerian?" Shula asked, taking a skirt covered with tiers of fringe and a richly embroidered linen cloth from a chest.

"She is, why do you ask?" I wonder as she helped me into the skirt, securing it around my hips with a tightly bound knot. She wrapped the embroidered linen around me in such a way that the fringed edges could rest upon my arms and cross around my torso.

"What you just said is a Sumerian proverb, or at least a part of it." Shula answered, looking me in the eye for the first time.

"What is the other part?"

Her round cheeks glowed as she replied, "I will feed you, even though you are an outcast. I will give you a drink even though you are an outcast."

"It is a matter of hospitality," I said, following Shula to the table where I had combed my hair.

"Indeed. Sumerians are - or rather were - generally very hospitable people, but that sentiment has soured over the year. In Nuzi we had a different saying; guests and fish will both start to smell after three days."

I chuckled, "Your hospitality has limits."

"Everything has its limits," Shula corrected, reaching for the comb that wasn't there.

"Perhaps I misplaced it," I said as I ran through my movements of that morning. Checking off each place that turned up empty until I there were none left.

"Has anyone else been in here?" Shula asked, after turning over every part of the Giparu. I shook my head, no I had been alone, right?

With no time left, Shula bound a silver breastplate inlaid with lapis lazuli studs around my chest, my oiled hair flowing freely from under the horned band of silver as we made our way down to the first tier of the Ziggurat.

The priestesses all met in the Pillared Hall behind the Great Court. They sat in a row, seven of them, wearing cream robes and gold breastplates. Behind them, on a raised dais, I was placed by Shula. In my left hand, I held the eagle-headed staff of Ur. Flanking me were Idal and Kituzda. One holding the sword of Nanna, the other his statue.

Holding my head high, I felt the mask of the high priestess stiffening my expression.

First, a farmer presented twenty bushels of grain as his fall offering. Followed by a sheepherder, bringing in fifteen skins, instead of the usual ten. Of the finest quality, he added, before requesting protection from the savage tribes in the northern fields. Apparently, they had been stealing his cattle. Kituzda seemed to be aware of the situation, explaining to him that the northern fields have already been patrolled regularly since last winter, and whatever happens to the cattle if they go beyond the borders of Ur can't be helped.

"Please, lady of the largest heart," the herder begged me on his knees, "The fields have been far too dry for all our cattle to survive. We have to travel further than the borders if they are to produce any milk."

"I'll pray to Nanna, to send us rain so that your fields may be fertile enough. Will that please you?" I responded.

The herder's eyes were as big as plates, bowing, and praying in gratitude. I wanted to smile, but the judging eyes of Kituzda wouldn't let me. Instead, I froze like a statue, listening silently to one request after another. The sun was high above the Great Court when the gates violently swung open.

"High priestess Enheduanna, this thief must be judged." Lugal-ane shouted. His slaves dragging something behind him.

With one swing, a girl was thrown down in the dust. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly glanced up, gazing into my soul. Her eyes of liquid amber were scrutinizing things inside me. Things I didn't even know were there. Or perhaps I had been too scared to confront them. It seemed that even the gentlest caress would break her delicate form. Her breath toppled out of her soft lips like a ball of tumbleweed softly blowing through the sky. She was a fallen divinity; a girl with no name, a mystery. A beautiful mystery, and I wanted to solve it.

I rose from my throne, glaring down at Lugal-ane. "Enlighten me. Why you, as the Lugal of this city, are unfit to perform your duty of government?"

Lugal-ane smirked. "My Great Lady, I thought this matter might concern you more." With a wave of his hand, a slave appeared beside him, carrying my silver comb. "I found this in the possession of this flee. I believe it belongs to the sacred Giparu."

"It does," Shula confirmed before I could interfere.

The court buzzed with worried chatter as the priestesses wondered how a thief could have entered the sacred Giparu.

"Silence," my voice echoed louder than I thought possible, but had the desired effect. "Girl, what is your name?"

"Dingira, high priestess Enheduanna." she said, her amber eyes never leaving mine.

"What have you to say for yourself, Dingira?"

"It is true. I stole the comb."

My breath stuck in my throat. Why did she admit to the crime? If only she stated that she found the comb or someone forced it upon her, I would have let her go without question.

"We demand a suitable punishment, Enheduanna." Lugal-ane said.

Kituzda nodded in agreement, "she must be caned publicly. Let Nanna decide her ultimate fate, should she survive it?"

Dingira sank to the ground and stared up at the sun, sobbing. Tearing at her beautiful hair. I had to press myself down in my chair. Oh, how I wanted to stand up and take the girl in my arms. Rock her gently, and soothe her hair. Caning didn't sound like justice. It wouldn't be Nanna who would choose her fate. It would be the cane and the number of cuts that were inflicted upon her. My mask crumbled as I thought of that delicate form being robbed of its beauty. In my mind, her sobbing turned to screams of anguish, and I couldn't stand it.

Jumping up from my seat, I yelled, "No. It is I who will pass judgement."

I needed to drink in the silence to counteract the fear that threatened to engulf me. Neither Kituzda nor Lugal-ane made a move as I stepped down from my dais, approaching the girl like one would approach a wounded animal. "Tell me, why did you steal the comb?"

"I didn't want to," she said. "I came to find some food for my siblings. But the silver of the comb could be worth enough to buy food for an entire year."

Her words hit me harder than any cane. There was a pain behind them so raw and hard that anyone who listened, truly listened, would know that punishment was the last thing this girl needed. I stretched out my hand, and she flinched. "You will not be caned," I said as softly as I could.

"Enheduanna, you can't be serious?" Kituzda cried out, stepping out of the line. "This woman stole from the most sacred place in the city, you must punish her."

My anger boiled over. "You are not to say what I must and mustn't do, priestess. I am chosen by Nanna as his En-priestess so I will decide how to rule his sacred house in Ur." Turning around to face all those present I announced, "let those in my presence today bear witness that the maid Dingira, who stole from the sacred Giparu, shall cleanse her soul in the temple of Nanna. Let no one press her to service of any but the great Nanna and those who serve him. To you, Nanna, and to your father Enlil, son of the supreme An do I pledge my seal. Do you, Dingira, swear on the sword of Nanna's wrath."

"I do." She said.

"Then it is done."

Lugal-ane was as red as his robes, and Kituzda bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but I paid no mind to either. Instead, I called Shula to take Dingira to a bath and walked away with Idal hot on my heels.

"Are you sure that was the right choice, princess?"

"Don't you start," I warned. "I am the high priestess, so my word is final. You all would do well to remember that."

From the end of the corridor, I already heard Lugal-ane shouting. His words of treason and oppression by the Akkadian bitch were undeniable.

"He is harassing Kituzda," Idal whispered. As if my eyes could mistake that fiery hair for anyone else. I walked away, but Idal pulled me back by my wrist.

"You have to help her."

"I don't have to do anything," I hissed back, yanking my hand free from his grip. "Serves her right for constantly defying me."

His hand shot up as if to strike me. Put it never did. Instead, he struck with his words. "She is a priestess you swore to protect. But I guess you are just a selfish brat who plays favourites."

Before I could say a word, Idal stormed off. Pulling Kituzda behind him before Lugal-ane could hit her. I didn't stay to witness the rest. I couldn't bear and watch this betrayal. Idal was here to protect me. Not Kituzda, nor any other. Me. He promised my father.

Father. The thought of him brought tears to my eyes. How I wished he was here to help me. To guide me. I tried to establish my authority. I really tried to be strong like him. But no matter what I did, it only made it worse. The nobles hated me, my own priestesses openly doubted me, and now even my own stuart defied me.

"Nanna, what am I supposed to do? Please, show me the way."

I spend the rest of the day held up in the Giparu, staring at the blank clay tablets before me. My expression blank - my task as high priestess, clashing with what I wanted to do. Why did even Nanna abandon me now? Arms crossed and brows knitted, the millionth heavy sigh escaped my still lips. And so I did ended up writing nothing, the clay remaining garishly smooth. Like Dingira's skin. Closing my eyes, I imagined staring into those deep amber eyes, those full lips stealing my breath away with every word they spoke.

"May I enter, My Great Lady?" The sudden voice made me drop the tablet, breaking it into a thousand pieces.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you," Dingira said. She appeared like a divinity into the silver moonlight. I could hardly believe she was really here in this room with me.

"You may," I responded, "Although, actually you may not."

"Which is it?"

"Well, no one is allowed here when Nanna is present." I said, raising my hand towards the moon shining down from above.

"I'm sure he will make an exception for tonight." Dingira said, "after all, I only wanted to thank you."

The moon poured down on us, showering us with beams of light. They caught in her hair, these moonbeams, making each dark curl seem as though it was alight with passion. Her skin was illuminated by the stars; she looked deathly pale, like her heart would stop any moment, but I knew the truth. That it was beating away inside her, like a constant drum. Longingly, I devoured her face with my eyes, wishing with all my being that I could reach out and brush my hand against her perfectly shaped cheekbones, or under the feathers of her thick, dark lashes. But I refrained from doing so and continued to succumb to the endless torture of watching her without being able to touch.

She was a mystery. A dangerously beautiful mystery. And I was married to a god.

"You are welcome," was all I could say.