The Pharaoh’s Favorite novel Chapter 57

Blood soaks my torn dress, drips from the sword in my trembling hands. The metallic scent fills my nose, my mouth, coating my tongue with the taste of death.

His sword felt unnaturally heavy in my hands.

And at my feet—Sahety.

His body was sprawled across the cool stone floor, motionless, his tunic soaked in blood that still seeped from the deep gash in his stomach.

I should have felt a relief. I should have felt triumph.

Instead, I felt nothing. Hollow.

I had killed him. And I would do it again.

A shift in the air—a presence behind me. I turned sharply, every muscle tensed, the sword still raised in my trembling grip. Amen stood there.

The sight of him hit me harder than I expected, the contrast between us almost startling.

Him, pristine in his royal attire, broad shoulders set with power, his golden pectoral gleaming in the dim torchlight.

Me, drenched in another man’s blood, breathless, unhinged, the scent of death clinging to my skin.

His gaze fell to Sahety’s corpse. Then—to me. For the first time in my life, I could not read him.

His eyes darkened, and a muscle in his jaw clenched as he stepped forward, slow, measured, his presence consuming every inch of space between us.

“What happened?” His voice was a blade of its own—sharp, controlled.

I swallowed, the taste of iron still thick in my mouth. I wanted to answer, but the words refused to come. And then, I forced them out. “Sahety tried to rape me. I killed him.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy, suffocating.

A single beat of silence. Then—Amen roared for the guards.

His voice boomed, shaking the walls, shaking me. My breath hitched, my hands tightening around the hilt of the sword, my heart pounding.

Was this it? Was he going to punish me? Drag me before the court, declare me a murderer?

A knot of fear coiled in my stomach. But then—Amen moved.

Not toward me. Toward Sahety.

I watched, unblinking, as he knelt beside the corpse, his golden bracelets catching the light, his expression unreadable. He reached down and smeared his hand across the blood pooling on the floor. Sprinkled it on his body and face.

Then—he turned to me.

I froze as he stepped forward, the weight of his gaze holding me captive. He took the sword from my hands.

Gently. Deliberately.

My fingers uncurled slowly, as though releasing it would mean losing the only thing keeping me upright.

When the doors burst open behind us, he turned around, completely hiding me behind his broad back.

I stiffened. And then—Amen spoke.

“This man attempted to harm my concubine.” His voice rang through the chamber, absolute, unwavering. “For his crime, he was executed on the spot—by my own hand.”

A chill rushed through me. The guards did not question him. They did not dare. Amen’s word was law.

“Take his body.” His tone was cold, distant, as though he was speaking of nothing more than removing filth from his floor. “Inform his commander that Sahety was a traitor and will not receive the rites of embalming.”