Chapter 3 Secret In The Dark

The palace was silent, save for the soft crackling of torches along the corridors. Neferet moved swiftly, her sandals barely making a sound against the polished stone. The weight of the night still clung to her skin, the scent of the city's streets lingering on her cloak. Just a few more steps and she'd be back in her chambers unnoticed.

Or so she thought.

A firm hand shot out from the shadows, gripping her wrist before she could react. Neferet tensed, instinct kicking in as she turned sharply, ready to strike-until her gaze met familiar dark eyes.

Seti.

His grip was firm, his expression that of dismay as he pulled her into an alcove, out of sight from the patrolling guards. The torchlight flickered against his sharp features, accentuating the pressure in his jaw. His military tunic was slightly rumpled, his stance rigid with barely contained frustration.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, voice low but heavy with accusation.

Neferet yanked her arm free, exhaling sharply. "Since when do I answer to you?"

Seti's eyes narrowed. "Since you started sneaking out in the dead of night like a reckless fool."

Her pulse was still racing from the close call in the city, but she refused to let him see her shaken. "I had my reasons."

Seti let out a slow, exasperated breath. "You always do."

His gaze wavered over her, scanning her dust-covered cloak, the faint creases in her tunic from where she'd hastily changed. He knew her too well-knew she wasn't foolish enough to risk leaving the palace without good cause.

"Did anyone see you?" he asked.

Neferet shook her head. "Not anyone who matters."

Seti ran a hand down his face, frustration evident in the way his fingers rolled into a fist. "Damn it, Neferet, do you even realize the danger you're putting yourself in?"

She stepped closer, tilting her chin up defiantly. "Do you?"

The air between them crackled with unsaid emotions. Seti wasn't just angry-he was worried.

Neferet had seen him fight without hesitation, had watched him command armies with cold efficiency. But now, standing so close, she saw something else beneath the hardened exterior-concern.

His hand came up, brushing against the edge of her sleeve, as if he wanted to pull her closer but didn't dare.

"You make it impossible not to care," he murmured.

Her breath hitched. Seti never let his guard down, not like this. For a moment, she hesitated-then, she reached up, fingers ghosting over his forearm.

"And yet, you still try."

A slow smirk touched his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You are a nightmare, Princess."

Neferet smiled, just barely. "And yet, you never stop chasing me."

Seti exhaled, shaking his head before stepping back. "Go before someone else finds you."

Neferet hesitated-then slipped past him, her heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with getting caught.

___

Neferet strode into the council chamber with measured grace, every inch the princess she was born to be. The scent of myrrh and burning oils condensed the air, mingling with the tension that had already settled over the room. Golden torchlight shone against the towering columns, illuminating the stern faces of nobles, priests, and generals gathered in attendance.

At the head of the room, seated upon his elevated throne, Pharaoh Amenemhat regarded the assembly with heavy-lidded eyes. Age and the weight of rulership had settled upon his broad shoulders, but the fire of a king still burned within him.

Neferet bowed slightly before stepping forward, her golden earrings swaying with the motion. She could feel Rahotep's gaze searing into her from across the chamber, his posture stiff, his jaw locked.

"You were absent from the palace this morning, daughter," the Pharaoh remarked, his tone neutral yet laced with expectation.

Neferet met his gaze without hesitation. "I was attending to matters of importance."

Rahotep scoffed. "Matters that, no doubt, required a cloak and secrecy?"

His smirk was barely concealed, his words aimed to provoke. "Or was it mere recklessness that led our noble princess to wander among common thieves and beggars?"

A muscle ticked in Neferet's jaw. "If I was reckless, then perhaps I take after those who hoard grain from the people while claiming to serve them."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber, a calculated strike. The Pharaoh's brow lifted slightly, interest piqued, while Rahotep's expression darkened.

"You dare accuse me?" Rahotep stepped forward, his hands clenched at his sides. "I act under the Pharaoh's will-"

"Then tell me, General," Neferet interrupted, voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. "Was it my father's will that the grain shipments be cut by half? That the people starve while the soldiers grow fat?"

Rahotep's nostrils flared, his temper fraying at the edges. "Watch your tongue, girl-"

"Enough."

The Pharaoh's voice was not raised, yet it carried the weight of a command, silence fell. He leaned forward, eyes gazing between his daughter and his general, reading the battle waged not with swords, but with words.

"You both serve this kingdom," he said, voice firm. "I will not have discord taint my court. The matter of the grain shall be investigated, but I will hear no more of this bickering."

Neferet bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, but she did not miss the way Rahotep's fists tightened at his sides. This was not the end of their battle, only a pause.

Then, a shift in the room.

The High Priest, draped in ivory robes embroidered with sacred symbols, stepped forward, staff in hand. His presence alone commanded reverence, the murmurs ceased.

"My King," he intoned, his voice carrying through the hall like the whisper of the gods themselves. "A great omen has been revealed in the temple of Amun. The stars foretell a shift in power, a turning of fate that cannot be ignored."

The Pharaoh exhaled through his nose, his expression impassive. "Speak plainly, Priest."

"There is an imbalance," the High Priest continued. "A shadow upon the throne, the gods demand retribution. To restore harmony, a ritual must be conducted beneath the light of the rising moon."

A tense stillness followed his words. The court had heard of omens before-some dismissed, others shaping the course of the kingdom. Neferet, though familiar with the temple's superstitions, listened intently.

"What does this ritual entail?" the Pharaoh asked, his voice measured.

The High Priest turned his gaze to Neferet. "The Princess must be purified in the waters of the sacred lake, where the priestesses will invoke the blessings of Ma'at."

"Ma'at?" Rahotep frowned. "The goddess of balance and truth?"

"Yes," the priest confirmed. "But that is only the beginning. Offerings must be made to Amun, the hidden one, to secure his guidance, and..." He hesitated, his grip on his staff tightening, "a blood sacrifice must be given to Set."

A murmur of unease spread through the room.

"Set?" Neferet's brow furrowed. "The god of storms and chaos? Why him?"

"Because the storm is already upon us," the priest answered. "And it must be controlled, or it will consume us all."

The Pharaoh's face remained impassive, but his fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. "What sacrifice does Set require?"

"The blood of a warrior," the High Priest said solemnly. "One chosen by the gods."

The room grew heavier with the weight of the words.

A warrior's blood.

The Pharaoh gave a slow nod. "Very well, the ritual will be prepared."

Neferet inhaled deeply, this was more than just superstition-this was power, woven into the very fabric of their rule, and if the gods demanded balance, she would ensure it was met.

With one last glance toward Rahotep, she turned on her heel and walked out, the battle was not just against men. It was against fate itself.

___

The air was cool as Neferet paced her chamber, fingers tracing the wax seal of the parchment Kiya had given her. The symbol was unfamiliar, yet something about it gnawed at her instincts.

A sharp knock at her window jolted her from her thoughts. She turned swiftly, heart racing-only to relax when she saw the familiar figure outside.

Seti.

She hurried to the window, unlatching it. He slipped inside, his form fluid as a shadow, he smelled of leather and desert winds, his bronze skin glistening with the faint sheen of sweat from the night air.

"I assume you survived your father's questioning?" he murmured.

Neferet sighed, rubbing her temples. "Rahotep tried to make me look irresponsible."

Seti smirked. "And?"

"And I reminded him that he's a snake."

Seti chuckled, shaking his head. "You always know how to entertain a room."

"You're reckless," he responded, stepping close. "Disappearing in the city, provoking Rahotep-do you have a death wish, Princess?"

Neferet smirked, though her heartbeat thrummed at his nearness. "I only have a wish for truth."

Seti exhaled, his fingers brushing against her wrist before settling at her waist. "One day, your fire will burn too bright."

"And will you not be there to temper it?" she asked, voice softer now.

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening slightly. "Always."

For a moment, there was no kingdom, no politics, no gods demanding balance, there was only them.

Then, before she could think, his lips were on hers-firm, urgent, a collision of longing and restraint finally broken. Neferet melted into him, her hands gripping the fabric of his tunic, her back pressing against the cool stone wall.

The kiss deepened, breath hitching, bodies molding together as the barriers of duty crumbled.

This was dangerous, but so was love.

And neither of them had ever feared danger.