The chamber was a tomb of my own making—air thick with incense and the endless drone of ministers circling the same pointless decrees like vultures over a carcass that had already been picked clean. I sat on the gilded throne with my chin on my fist, pretending to listen while my mind wandered somewhere far more interesting than tax reforms and border skirmishes. How novel. Another hour of men congratulating themselves for breathing in my presence.

I rose without warning. Robes whispering against marble, I crossed the hall and shoved open the balcony doors myself. The cool night air slapped me like a much-needed insult. Below, the courtyard churned with the chaos of my birthday celebration—drums, firelight, wine, and too many bodies moving in ways that suggested they’d regret it tomorrow. Good. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

I leaned against the stone railing, scanning the crowd with the same enthusiasm I reserved for tax reports. Until her. She moved differently. Not the usual desperate swirl of silk and eyeliner designed to catch a pharaoh’s eye. No. This one danced like the music owed her something, every step precise, controlled, almost defiant. The firelight licked across the thin silks clinging to her hips and thighs, outlining the shift of muscle and curve with every turn. She wasn’t performing for me. She wasn’t even looking up. That alone was enough to make my blood stir.

A slow smirk pulled at my mouth. How refreshing. A woman in my kingdom who doesn’t simper on command.

One of the ministers hovered behind me like an anxious fly. I could smell the fear-sweat on him.

“Shall I summon her, Your Majesty?” he whispered, already bowing.

I didn’t bother turning. “No.”

The word dropped like a blade. He retreated so fast I almost heard his spine creak. If I wanted her, I would have her. But not yet. Not like some common prize dragged before the throne. Let her keep dancing down there, unaware that the most powerful man in the realm was watching the way her spine arched, the way sweat glistened at the hollow of her throat, the way those silks slipped just enough with every breath to remind me I was still very much a man beneath all this gold and divinity. I took my time. Because the best hunts are never rushed. And because the longer I waited, the sweeter it would be when she finally felt the weight of my gaze—and realized she’d already caught the attention of a predator who doesn’t ask twice.