The Pharaoh's Favorite - Chapter #2 - by itsvlada

Pageti works quickly and efficiently, weaving strands of gold beads into my dark hair, her fingers nimble yet gentle.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she said, glancing at me through the polished bronze mirror. “The festival of Isis is usually your favorite night of the year.”

I forced a small smile. “It is.”

Pageti arched her brow. “Then why do you look like you’re being prepared for your own burial?”

I hesitated, fingers tightening around my lap. “It’s just… I still feel uneasy about that dream.”

Pageti scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Gods forbid a woman have a dream that actually excites her.”

I shot her a look. “Pageti.”

“It was just a dream,” she laughed, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Your mind is playing tricks on you because—” she hesitated, then continued carefully, “—because maybe you’re nervous about the wedding.”

I glanced up at her, uncertain. “You think that’s all it is?”

“Well…” she hesitated again, then pursed her lips. “That, or maybe it’s something else.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Pageti.”

“Alright,” she sighed. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, but… you’re not the only one who’s noticed that Sahety’s been acting strange.”

My stomach clenched. “What do you mean?”

She adjusted the drape of my dress, focusing on the folds as she spoke. “The servants have been talking. He barely speaks to you, never touches you. And they’ve noticed something else too.”

I waited, heart pounding. “What?”

Pageti hesitated, as if debating whether to say it. “That he lets Kiya, our younger lady, your sister, hang all over him.”

I froze. Then I laughed, shaking my head. “Pageti, that’s ridiculous.”

She crossed her arms. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I insisted. “Kiya has never cared for men like that. She’s always been more interested in sneaking out, getting into trouble, climbing rooftops like a wild cat. She doesn’t throw herself at anyone—especially not my betrothed.”

Pageti shrugged. “I’m just saying, that’s what people have noticed.”

“It’s just gossip.” I waved a hand dismissively, forcing a laugh I didn’t quite feel. “Meaningless.”

Pageti’s expression remained neutral, but she didn’t argue further.

Still, as I stood and smoothed the fabric of my gown, I couldn’t quite shake the unease creeping into my chest.

* * *

Kiya stretches her arms above her head, her golden bangles clinking as she spins toward me.

“Tell me, Neferet, isn’t it perfect?” She breathes in deeply, eyes glinting in the torchlight. “The whole city feels like it’s alive tonight.”

I nod, managing a small smile. “It does.”

Kiya eyes me for a beat before nudging my shoulder with hers. “Then why do you sound so… solemn? You’ve been waiting for this night.”

“I’m not solemn,” I lie, smoothing down the embroidered fabric of my dress.

She huffs. “You are the worst liar I know.”

Before I can answer, she hooks her arm through Sahety’s, pulling him close. “And you? Have you missed Thebes?”

He glances down at her, then at me, his expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, he smiles—small, but real.

“I have,” he admits, his voice softer than usual. Something in me loosens, just a little.

“You should be excited,” I tell him, threading my fingers through his. “You’ve missed so many festivals. This one should feel special.”

He doesn’t pull away this time. Instead, his thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles. “It is special.”

It should be reassuring. But something about the way he says it unsettles me.

Kiya sighs dramatically. “Gods above, can you both stop staring into each other’s eyes for one moment?” She tugs Sahety toward a merchant’s stall, her smile playful. “Come, you must see these.”

She doesn’t let go of his arm. I expect him to pull back—to remind her that I’m standing right here. But he doesn’t.

“Look at these,” Kiya says, tracing a row of silver charms with her fingertips. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Sahety glances at the jewelry, but his gaze flickers back toward me.

“Neferet, do you want one?” he asks, his voice kind, thoughtful.

I should be relieved that he’s thinking of me. Instead, I feel cold.

I force a smile. “No. The ring you gave me is enough.” I lift my hand to show him, the ruby catching the light.

Sahety watches me carefully, his expression unreadable again. Then, finally, he smiles again, squeezing my fingers briefly before letting go.

I stand frozen, watching them—watching how easily she takes his attention.

A sharp voice cuts into my thoughts. “My lady, are you interested in something?”

I blink, realizing the merchant is staring at me, expecting an answer. I shake my head. “No, I was just—”

But when I look back toward them, they’re gone.

My heart drops. I turn sharply, pushing past the crowd, trying to catch sight of them again.

“Kiya?” I call, rising on my toes. “Sahety?”

No response.

I push through the festival-goers, trying to find her, but instead—I collide into someone solid, steady hands catching my shoulders to keep me from falling. I look up and my breath catches.

He's so… beautiful.

For a moment, I forgot my purpose, caught in the quiet magnetism of his presence.

"My apologies," I stammer, stepping back.

"No harm done." His voice is rich, cultured. There was a hint of amusement in his tone as he added, “Though it isn’t every day that one meets a priestess of Isis. Especially in such a setting.”

I blinked, startled by his observation. “How did you know?”

He gestured toward the small amulet hanging from a delicate golden chain around my neck.

“A sacred symbol,” he said. “And one that suits you well. Tell me, do all priestesses possess such remarkable eyes?”

Heat creeps up my neck. Despite that I’ve just chuckled. "A mark of goddesses blessing, or so they say."

“The color is very unusual.” He smiled, tilting his head as if to better study me. “Never seen something like that before. Like the depths of the Nile at dusk. It’s quite… striking.”

I looked away, flustered by his compliment. “You’re kind to say so.”

We fell into an easy conversation, speaking of the festival, the city, and the beauty of the evening. The way he looks at me makes my stomach tighten. I do not know this man. And yet… I feel as though I do.

Oh, dear goddesses, I should leave.

"Actually," I said quickly. “I must to find my sister”

"Of course. But before you go—" He reaches for the merchant's stall beside him, lifting a delicate gold bracelet inlaid with emeralds. "Allow me to offer this to you."

I shake my head. "Oh, no– I couldn't possibly–"

"Please," he interrupts smoothly, already pressing coins into the merchant's hands. "Consider it… as an offering to Isis herself, through her lovely servant."

Something stirs in my chest as he fastens it around my wrist. His touch lingers—just for a moment. Then, he is gone.

And I am left, standing in the middle of the festival, my breath shallow, my heart racing for reasons I do not understand.

The noise of the festival fades as I reach the banks of the Nile, my mind spinning with too many thoughts.

As I stood in silence, looking for Kiya, a faint sound reached my ears. A soft moan carried on the evening breeze.

I freeze, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. Some couples have clearly found privacy among the river reeds. I should leave them to it, and return to searching the market.

But right then I hear my sister's voice calling: "Oh, Sahety… Ah! Please, make me… Yes, more-e!"

My legs move without my permission, carrying me closer to the thick stand of reeds.

No. It cannot be. I must have misheard.

But the gods are not merciful tonight. Because when I step forward—when I push apart the reeds, just enough to see—there they are.

Tangled together in the growing darkness. My sister's perfect body arches beneath my betrothed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Sahety's face is buried in her neck, his military belt discarded in the sand beside them.

I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't make a sound.

Kiya's eyes open, meeting mine over Sahety's shoulder. There's no shock in her expression, no shame. Only a sinister smile that curves her lips as she pulls him into a deep possessive kiss.

Right in front of me. And Sahety—my Sahety—lets her.

He had returned and said nothing. He had returned and chosen her instead.

When Kiya breaks the kiss, her eyes are still locked with mine, and whispers something in Sahety's ear. He stiffens, starting to turn–

I ran.

I run until my lungs burn and my vision blurs, not caring where my feet take me.

When I finally stop, the temple of Isis looms before me, silver in the moonlight. I fell to my knees before the altar, my cries echoing in the vast chamber.

The tears come hot and fast now. I press my face against the temple's cool stone, letting sobs and loud cries wrack my body. And then the lightest touch on my shoulder made me freeze.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I spun around with my fists raised, a scream escaping my lips before I could stop it.

“Peace, young lady,” a calm, familiar voice said. “It is only me.”

Panic inside me ebbed as I recognized the man standing before me.

The stranger from the market.

His face, partially obscured by the shawl earlier, was now fully visible in the moonlight. His long black hair was braided into a single sleek braid, hung loose, framing a face that was both captivating and refined.

“You!” I said, my voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”

"Forgive me," he says softly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"How…” Cheeks burning like torch lights, heart thunders against my ribs. "Why did you come here?"

"I was nearby and heard someone crying." He steps closer, silverlight catching in his dark eyes. "Could not ignore such… sorrow.”

“You should not be here.” I turned away, ashamed of my tears and vulnerability. “This is a sacred place.”

“I mean no disrespect to the goddess,” he said gently. “But it seems to me that you are the one in need of comfort tonight. What happened to you?”

His words broke through the fragile walls I had built around my pain, shattering them with a quiet intensity. My lips trembled as I began to speak, and once the words started, they came in an unstoppable torrent.

Through it all, he listens with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. Without interruption, his expression was thoughtful and kind. When I finished, he knelt beside me, his presence steady and reassuring.

“You carry a great burden,” he said softly. “But you must not let their betrayal define you. You are worth far more than their lies and selfishness.”

These words touched something deep within me, even made me feel a glimmer of hope for some moment.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I wipe my eyes, suddenly conscious of how I must look. "I don't even know your name."

"Amen…" He began without thinking and then abruptly stopped talking.

While settled beside me on the temple steps, he just smiled sweetly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

“Amen?” I repeated his words.

“Yes, Amen.” He smiled once again, with a hint of mystery in his eyes. “What is your name, young lady? Or perhaps you prefer the way what I call you?”

A small smile appeared on my face and simply answered, “Neferet.”

“Ah, ‘beautiful’.” He stretched out the meaning of my name like it was a compliment, savoring every sound of it with the same smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Amen,” I couldn't help myself, but continuing his little joke, “your name also sounds very... ‘certain’.”

In response to this, he just laughed sincerely, his voice low and captivating, with a rich timbre that resonated deeply.

"Tell me about your service to Isis," he said calmly.

There's something comforting about his presence, like a familiar dream I can't quite remember.

Reluctantly, I allowed him to steer the conversation elsewhere. I found myself leaning into his presence, not just hearing but feeling every word he spoke, as though he were filling spaces I hadn’t realized were empty.

We talk through the night. About everything and nothing. About dreams and destiny and the weight of family expectations. He never touches me, but his presence fills all the empty spaces my pain has carved out.

The sky begins to lighten, dawn approaches like an inescapable truth. I turned to Amen, reluctant to see our time together come to an end.

“Will I see you again?” I asked, my voice tentative. “I have… enjoyed your company more than I can say.”

Amen's expression shadows, he hesitated. “It is unlikely,” he said at last. “The gods weave our fates in ways we cannot predict. But I will cherish this night, as I hope you will.”

My heart sinks, but another emotion rises when I see him standing up – reckless, desperate. A pang of sadness tightened my chest.

“Then may I ask for one favor before you go?”

“Anything,” he said, his tone sincere.

“A kiss,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. “A kiss for goodbye. Perhaps it will help mend my heart and serve as… a small revenge for the betrayal I endured.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. He studies me for a long moment, then slowly reaches out to trace my cheek with one finger.

"Are you sure that is wise?"

"No." I lean into his touch. "But I don't want to be wise right now."

The first brush of his lips is gentle, tentative. But then – goddesses help me – he parted my lips with his hot tongue and the world exploded into fire. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, feeling solid muscle beneath heated skin.

Then Amen deepened our kiss and laid me down on the stone floor of the temple, hovering over me in a predatory manner. My breath caught in my throat from the sudden tension that gathered in my stomach.

This is like being devoured by flame, like drowning in sweet wine. This is...

He pulls back suddenly, holding me almost at arm's length. His breathing is ragged, eyes dark with something that makes my whole body tremble.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he says roughly, "if you lean toward me again... I'll have no choice but to find you and finish what we've started."

Speechless, I cannot respond and just keep opening my mouth to try to find a word, when he stands and steps away.

"May the gods bless you, sweet lotus flower. May you find the happiness you deserve."

Then he's gone, leaving me breathless and burning on the temple steps.

Wait, did he just called me a ‘sweet lotus flo–’

A noise from behind the temple snaps me back to reality. I rise on shaky legs to investigate, though every part of me screams to run after Amen instead.

My heart stops. Kiya stands in the shadows, her perfect face twisted in a smirk.

I turn away, unable to look at her, and start walking home. But her quick footsteps follow.

"My, my, sister." Her voice drips honey-sweet poison. "What would Father say if he knew his pious daughter was kissing a stranger at the temple?"