The Pharaoh's Favorite - Chapter #3 - 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?"

I kept walking, fists clenched at my sides, my gaze fixed ahead and anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Kiya, as always, seemed entirely unaffected.

She walked beside me, her sandals whispering against stone, while rage burned in my chest like poison.

“You’re awfully quiet, sister,” she said, breaking the silence. Her tone was honey sweet, but strangely full of concern. “Are you upset about last night?”

I stopped abruptly, turning to face her.

“Am I upset?” I hissed, my voice shaking with suppressed fury. “You betrayed me, Kiya. You humiliated me and ruined everything I’ve dreamed for.”

"Oh, I see now," she continues, "After what you saw me and your beloved Sahety by the river... though really, sister, you shouldn't have spied on such a private moment."

"Private?” I whirl to face her. “You wanted me to see it. You looked right at me and smiled."

“Oh, sister, don’t be so dramatic. I simply showed you the truth. Sahety was never yours to keep – you were just too blind to see it.”

My chest tightened, her casual cruelty slicing through me.

“And that makes it acceptable?” I snapped. “You’ve disgraced yourself and our family. Do you even care about what you’ve done?”

Kiya’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, she seemed amused.

“Care?” she repeated, laughing lightly. “Why should I care? What’s the point of feeling guilty over something that needed to be done?”

“Needed to be done?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with my rage. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Kiya’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with malice. “I never wanted this life. Not the harem, not Sahety, not the endless expectations Father heaps on us. I want freedom, Neferet. Real freedom. And if breaking you was the price I had to pay, so be it.”

Understanding hit me like a physical blow.

While she'd played the perfect daughter, preparing for Pharaoh's harem, she'd been plotting her escape all along. I was merely collateral damage in her game.

Her words left me momentarily stunned. “You are ready to destroy everything… for your selfish dreams?” I whispered. “You… you’re unbelievable.”

“It’s enough to act so wounded, sister,” Kiya said sharply. “You should be thanking me instead. Now you’re free to dedicate yourself to your precious goddess. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

I stop dead. Turn slowly to face her. The dawn light catches her perfect features – features that hide a heart of stone.

"Thank you?" My voice comes out as a whisper. "You destroyed everything I dreamed of, and you want me to thank you?"

She resumed walking, forcing me to follow. "The world doesn’t revolve around your perfect little dreams, Neferet. Maybe it’s time for you to realize that.”

“And what about Sahety?” I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my composure. “Did you think he would choose you after what you’ve done? Did you think Father wouldn’t punish you for this?”

Kiya’s expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. But she recovered quickly, her voice cold and cutting.

“I’ll deal with Father. And as for Sahety? He’ll come around. Men always do.”

Her words chilled me to the core. This wasn’t just selfishness or arrogance. This was something darker, something twisted.

“You… you’re a monster,” I whispered.

“Call me whatever you want, sister. But at least I’m honest about who I am.” Kiya laughed again, the sound sharp and mocking. “Can you say the same?”

I stared at her, her betrayal crushing me down. For all her beauty and charm, Kiya’s soul was as cold as the stone statues of the gods. And yet, no amount of anger or sorrow could change what she had done. All I could do now was endure.

The house came into view, and with it, the harsh reality of what lay ahead. Kiya quickened her pace, slipping effortlessly back into the role of the dutiful daughter.

Our parents waited at breakfast, the morning light streaming through painted windows as if this were any other day.

I followed reluctantly, bracing myself for the storm that was sure to come.

"Neferet!" Mother’s sharp voice cuts through the morning air. "How dare you stay out until dawn? And with your sister in your care!"

Of course.

Once again, I would bear the blame while Kiya escaped notice. All these years I played the responsible eldest daughter, covering for Kiya's schemes, protecting her secrets - it all came crashing down.

"Where have you been?" Mother's voice cracked like a whip. "Dawn is no time for a noble young woman to return home."

Something snaps inside me.

It is always my fault.

It is always my responsibility.

While Kiya – sweet, adored, beautiful Kiya – can do no wrong.

But wait. A thought strikes me, cold and clear as temple water. My “clever” sister hasn't thought this through.

Yes, her night with Sahety might keep her from the Golden House – but Father won't let such shame go unpunished. He'll try to marry her off faster than she can blink, crushing her dreams of freedom as thoroughly as she's crushed mine.

The thought fills me with savage satisfaction.

"You want to know where we were, Mother?" The words burst from me like flames. "Ask your perfect youngest daughter what she was doing in the reeds with my betrothed!"

Silence fell like a blade.

Kiya didn't even flinch. This was part of her plan too, I realized with growing horror. She wanted to be exposed. But she'd overlooked one crucial detail – Father's pride.

"I'm done," I continue, yanking the ruby ring from my finger. "Done with this engagement. Done taking responsibility for her actions. Done watching her destroy everything she touches while you all look the other way!"

The ring hits the table with a sound like destiny shattering.

Silence stretches thick as honey. Father sets down his cup with deliberate care.

"You speak of destruction," he says slowly, "but you fail to see the opportunity the gods have provided."

My stomach drops. I don't like his tone.

"Clearly," he continues, "Sahety must marry Kiya now, to preserve what honor can be salvaged."

I looked at Kiya, expecting triumph. Instead, I saw something flicker in her eyes - regret? Fear? Rage.

"No!" Kiya's mask shattered. She leapt up, knocking over her wine cup. Red spread across the table like blood. "I won't be sold like cattle to any man!"

He pauses, and I see the trap too late. "And you, Neferet." Father's eyes found mine, ignoring her outburst. "You will take your sister's place in the Golden House."

The world tilted beneath my feet. "What?"

"I won't do it." She knocked a plate to the floor. It shattered like our family's facade. “I'd rather die than-"

The crack of Father's hand against her cheek echoed through the room. Kiya stumbled, caught herself against a column. Blood trickled from her split lip.

"You dishonor yourself. Your family. Years of your preparation wasted." Each word was punctuated by another blow. I watched, frozen, as my little sister crumpled under our father's rage. "Everything - the dancing lessons, the poetry, the beauty treatments - all for nothing!"

Mother turned away, silent tears tracking her kohl. I clutched my amulet, its edges biting into my palm. This was what Kiya's rebellion had brought us - violence and shame where there should have been celebration.

When Father finally stepped back, Kiya lay curled on the floor, her perfect face already swelling. But her eyes - they still burned with defiance through the tears.

"I will never submit," she whispered.

Father's answer was another blow.

"No." The word comes out strangled. "Father, please. I'm meant for the temple. My dreams, my powers– "

"Are gifts that will serve Pharaoh well." His voice hardens. "Our family promised a daughter to the harem. The gods themselves have shown us which daughter it must be."

"But... but we know nothing about him!" Panic claws at my throat. "He only just took the throne. Some say he's cruel, others say he's mad–"

"Enough!" Father's fist hits the table. "You will do your duty to this family. To Egypt. An opportunity to bear a child of Pharaoh, touched by the divine, is the highest honor – "

"Honor?" I laugh, and it sounds like breaking. "Like the honor your younger daughter showed last night?"

The slap catches me by surprise. Not from Father – he can't mark my face now that I'm meant for Pharaoh, not with his strength. So it was Mother who struck, her rings leaving fire across my cheek.

"You will not speak to your father this way," she hisses. "You will accept this blessing with gratitude."

I touch my burning cheek, feeling the betrayal of my own blood rising like floodwater.

Kiya's eyes meet mine across the room – no longer smug, but burning with something darker. We're both trapped now, in different cages of her making.