The temple flickered with golden firelight, the scent of incense thick in the air. Princess Dalia, sixteen and delicate as a lotus, knelt before the gods, her dark kohl-lined eyes cast downward. Her skin, bronzed by the Egyptian sun, gleamed beneath sheer white linen, embroidered in gold. Curls of obsidian tumbled over her shoulders, adorned with beads and jasmine. She had always been called beautiful, a jewel of the royal bloodline. But tonight, she was more than a princess.

Tonight, she would be a wife.

Pharaoh Amenakht, her nineteen-year-old brother, stood tall before her, broad-shouldered and strong, his presence commanding. Gold cuffs encircled his arms, a collar of lapis and carnelian resting against his sun-kissed chest. He was young, yet he carried the weight of a god—his sharp, knowing gaze never wavering.

As he took her hand, his thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate. “You were always meant to be mine.” His voice was low, a whisper only for her.

Her breath caught. He did not hesitate. He did not waver. He accepted this fate without fear, without question.

The priests spoke their sacred vows, and when it was done, Egypt itself had witnessed their binding. Dalia barely remembered walking to the palace, only the warmth of his hand, the way his grip never loosened.

*The royal chamber was vast, draped in silk, shadowed by flickering torchlight. Alone now, she turned to him, heart racing. “Is this truly what you wanted?”

His golden gaze burned into hers. “This is what was always meant to be.”

He reached for her, tracing a path along the gold chains resting on her collarbone. His touch sent a shiver through her. When his lips brushed against hers, they were soft at first—then deeper, claiming, as if sealing their fate with more than just words.

“You are mine now,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “And I will never let you go.”

And as the desert winds howled beyond the palace walls, Dalia surrendered—to duty, to fate, to him.