The Pharaoh’s Favorite novel Chapter 23

“A reckless, foolish decision.” Amen’s voice cut through the silence of my chambers like a blade, sharp with barely restrained fury.

I had barely moved from where I stood, still breathless from the tension of his presence consuming the space, his eyes burning into me like molten gold.

And then—so quickly I barely registered it—he reached into the folds of my robe, pulling free the stolen scrolls.

I gasped, my hands flying to his, but he had already unrolled one, his eyes scanning the ancient text.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“You risked everything,” he said after a moment, his voice dark and unreadable. “For this?”

“For you,” I corrected, my voice softer now.

Something flickered in his gaze, but he tore his eyes away from mine, rolling the scrolls back up with controlled precision.

“You could have been caught,” he continued, his voice low but thick with anger. “Do you understand what would have happened if you were? If any priest had discovered you stealing from the temple? If any of my enemies learned that my concubine was sneaking through the night like a thief?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. I had been reckless. I had risked too much. But I refused to regret it.

“I needed answers,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly.

His jaw clenched. “And you thought the best way to find them was to put yourself in danger?”

“I thought the best way to find them was to stop waiting for someone else to tell me what I already know is being hidden from me.” My voice was steady, but my pulse thundered in my ears. “You keep me in the dark, Amen. You disappear without explanation. You leave me surrounded by whispers and half-truths. How am I supposed to sit here like a good little concubine and pretend I don’t feel the weight of something more?”

His nostrils flared as he took a step toward me, his presence like a storm building in the air.

“You are more,” he ground out, his tone like a warning. “That is exactly why I cannot risk losing you.”

His words sent a sharp pang through my chest, but before I could respond, something else caught my attention.

A strange sensation prickled at my skin, an eerie shift in the air around us. I turned my head slightly, my gaze falling upon the small cluster of lotus flowers that had been placed near the window just that morning.

My stomach twisted.

The petals, once full and vibrant, had begun to curl inward, their rich hues draining to a sickly yellow. The stems darkened, shriveling as if all life had been siphoned from them.

The effect spread outward, creeping like a silent death through every plant in the room. The entire chamber seemed to breathe the decay. And at the center of it all—Amen.

His fists were clenched, his expression still burning with frustration, but there was something else there now—something deeper. He was unaware, oblivious to what was happening around him.

The curse.

At my touch, the withering slowed. The creeping death that had begun to consume the chamber stopped. The brittle leaves, the dying petals—suspended in their decay.

I felt it—the shift in him. The moment his anger gave way to something softer. His body relaxed beneath my touch, the rigid tension melting away as he exhaled a deep, shuddering breath.

A small, humorless laugh escaped him. “You are constantly making me worry.”