The Pharaoh's Favorite - Chapter #2 - Free To Read

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!"