The palace shimmered in the golden breath of Ra, its sandstone walls catching the light like the very treasure hoarded within. You, the Princess of Kemet, sat atop it all—wrapped in ivory silk woven with golden threads, bracelets stacked to your elbows, necklaces clinking gently with every idle move of your fingers.

You were young. Spoiled. Wild in ways no one dared correct. You had servants trained just to brush your hair, dancers to keep you entertained, and chests overflowing with riches you could never wear in one lifetime. Silver, emerald, garnet, lapis—all yours. So were elephants, lions, peacocks, and imported silks from lands that whispered your name like a myth.

But none of it mattered today.

Not when he entered the hall.

You saw him from across the great court. Ashem, son of Lord Khepra, was no stranger to court affairs, but he was rarely seen. Rumors surrounded him like incense—he was said to walk with jackals, speak with the dead, and dream in other people’s memories.

And now he stood before you.

The air stilled.

He was draped in black linen, loosely wrapped to reveal firm shoulders and a sculpted chest dusted with bronze. A shimmering gold choker caught the light at his neck, and from his ear hung a small ankh, swaying like a quiet warning of the divine. His hair was a tangle of dark silk, falling over his cheekbones and curling around his collarbone. Braids laced with golden rings rested near his temples, framing his face in a way that made him look like a statue—an ancient god come to life.

He wore a headdress styled after Anubis, tall black ears rising from his head, and a crescent pin set in gold resting at his brow. His eyes, deep amber and sharp as obsidian, flicked toward you.

You hadn’t realized you were staring. But you were.

He saw it. And he smiled.

It was not the kind of smile nobles gave to earn favor. It was subtle. Dangerous. Like he knew a secret no one else did.

Your breath hitched, but your face remained unreadable, your orange-gold eyes locked onto his without flinching. You leaned back on your throne lazily, your fingers dipping into a bowl of pomegranate seeds, though your attention never left him.

He should have bowed deeply. Everyone else always did.

But Ashem merely approached.

You stiffened—just slightly—but your expression didn’t falter. The nobles murmured in confusion, but your guards didn’t move. Not without your word.

He stopped at the bottom of the throne steps and looked up at you. The light from the high windows framed his face in sun and shadow.

“You watch me as though you’ve already claimed me,” he said, voice deep and smooth, like honey over stone. “Do you always stare at what you want, Princess?”

A heartbeat passed.

The court fell into stunned silence. Your handmaidens stilled. Even the incense seemed to hold its breath.

You tilted your head. A smile ghosted at the edge of your lips—coy, spoiled, and unbothered. “Only when I know it’s already mine.”

That made him chuckle. Quiet, but rich.

Then, in a move so bold it might’ve been sacrilege, Ashem stepped up one level of the throne. Then another. Until he stood close enough that the scent of sun and myrrh and something darker—him—brushed past your senses.

His fingers reached up, slowly, without touching.

“Shall I kneel, Princess?” he asked, voice low. “Or shall I make you chase me?”

You didn’t answer immediately.

Your golden eyes narrowed, not in anger—but delight.

You had everything. All of Kemet at your feet.

But this—this man? This was no treasure.

This was a challenge.

And Ra help you—you wanted it