The Pharaoh’s Favorite novel Chapter 47

For two days, I barely left my chambers. The scrolls given to me by High Priestess Merneith are my sole focus—particularly the ones on oneiromancy, the ancient art of dream-walking.

I pour over every word, absorbing the theories, the warnings, the methods. If what I suspect is true—if Isis is speaking to me through dreams—then I must learn how to listen.

The idea is both thrilling and daunting. Oneiromancy is a delicate and unpredictable art, one that even the most skilled priestesses struggle to control.

But if there is even a chance that I can use it to reach Amen, to uncover the truths that have been hidden from him, then I will try. I will master it.

Amen listens with intrigue as I explain my findings, his dark eyes flickering with curiosity.

“You truly believe you can enter my dreams?” he asks, watching me carefully.

I nod. “It may not work on the first attempt. My training in oneiromancy was never completed, and these methods are notoriously temperamental. But if the goddess is reaching out to me, then there must be a way to answer her.”

He leans back, considering my words. “And you’re certain this will be safe?”

I hesitate only for a moment before nodding. “It should pose no harm to either of us. And if it works, we might be able to learn something we wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.”

Amen exhales, rubbing a hand over his face before offering a smirk, though I can see the careful calculation behind his gaze.

“Very well, Sat net Aset. Let’s see if you can invade my dreams.”

* * *

That night, I light incense in my chambers, letting the scent of myrrh and lotus fill the air as I prepared myself for sleep. My mind is steady, my breathing calm. I recite the ancient incantations, the words slipping from my lips like water, embedding themselves into my subconscious.

And then, I dream.

I find myself standing at the base of the Temple of Isis once more. The sky above is deep indigo, scattered with the distant glow of stars, their light reflecting off the water.

The Nile is red. Not with sunset, not with reflections, but with blood. It laps at the shore, staining the sand beneath my feet.

I do not flinch. I have seen this before. And then, a shadow moves beside me.

The red-haired man.

He is exactly as always—tall, regal, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering torches of the temple steps.

He watches me for a long moment before speaking.

“You’re seeking knowledge beyond your reach.” His voice is smooth, knowing. “Tell me, Neferet—do you truly believe you can control dreams?”

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “I can try.”

A low chuckle rumbles from him. “Then listen carefully.”

“Dreams hold power. They reveal truths that the waking world is too blind to see. The greatest oneiromancers of old learned how to navigate them—to walk freely through the minds of others. To do so, all they required was a single drop of their own blood, mixed into their sleeping draught.”

“Blood magic?”

He nods. “The dreamer must claim their own vision. If they do not, the dream will claim them.”