The General's Suspicion

Horus's grip on the papyrus tightened as he gazed into the distance, his voice dropping to a grave whisper.

"But I'll tell you this—whoever she is, this nameless, faceless woman will be the ultimate ruin of His Majesty."

Silence hung between them as the General drifted into memory, back to the days when he and the Pharaoh were just boys, bound by duty, loyalty… and secrets.

He could still remember the way the young prince had stood by the window, moonlight casting a silver glow on his sweat-dampened skin. Those golden eyes—normally filled with arrogance and strength—had been haunted that night.

"She's waiting for me," the boy had whispered. "And one day… I'll find her."

Horus exhaled slowly, his mind still lost in the past—

Then a sound.

Faint. Unfamiliar. Just beyond the flickering torchlight of the encampment.

Hassan's voice suddenly cut through the night.

"Who's out there?!"

Horus's head snapped toward him, his sharp instincts kicking in instantly.

Jade's breath hitched as she froze in place.

Panic seized her, and she moved on pure instinct, slipping quickly into a nearby tent. She pressed herself against the fabric, her hands clamped over her mouth to muffle her breathing. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she listened.

Another voice, sharp and commanding.

"Hassan, what is it?"

"I heard something, General!" Hassan's voice was alert, wary.

Jade's stomach twisted. General. That meant soldiers. But whose?

A moment of silence stretched in the air, thick with tension. Then—

"Go check it out!" Horus ordered. "It could be a wild animal… or a spy!"

Jade barely had time to react before she heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. Sand crunched under sturdy boots, the heavy presence of men trained for war drawing closer.

Her fingers curled into fists. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear.

Then—the footsteps stopped.

Hassan stood at the entrance of the tent, hesitating. His hand hovered over the fabric, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

Horus suddenly lifted a hand.

Silence.

Hassan froze. The General's expression had darkened, his entire body shifting into a controlled stillness. Then, slowly, he put two fingers to his lips, signaling for quiet.

Hassan's brows furrowed. "What?" he mouthed.

Horus ignored him, his sharp eyes scanning the camp. He listened.

There—again. A slight rustling, too careful to be the wind. The controlled shuffle of movement, as if someone was trying not to be heard.

His gaze locked onto the tent.

Without a word, Horus moved.

His footsteps were silent as he approached, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his khopesh. Then, in one swift motion, he yanked back the tent flap and stepped inside.

His eyes landed on the intruder immediately.

A woman.

She was crouched behind a stack of supplies, frozen in place like a cornered animal. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath shaky with fear. Strands of dark hair clung to her sweat-dampened forehead, and her skin was coated in a fine layer of dust.

But it was her clothing that made him pause.

Strange. Unfamiliar. Unlike anything woven in Egypt.

A long dress, but not of linen or silk—something thicker, out of place in the desert. On her head sat a strange woven covering, wide and stiff, casting an unnatural shadow over her face—like a farmer's basket turned upside down.

It was neither a noble's headdress nor the wrapped linen of a laborer. It served some purpose he could not discern. Sand clung to her bare feet, red and raw from exposure. She looked utterly disheveled, her wide eyes reflecting pure terror as she stared at him.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Horus studied her, assessing the situation with the mind of a warrior. She was alone. Unarmed. Not a soldier, nor a spy—at least, not a trained one. The sheer panic in her expression told him that much.

Jade swallowed hard, her back pressed against the stacked crates as if she could disappear into them.

Who is he?

She had no doubt he was in charge—everything about him exuded power. The way he carried himself, the authority in his gaze… and those piercing eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pinning her in place.

Horus took a slow step forward.

Jade flinched.

His gaze narrowed.

"Torch."

The single word was a command, sharp and undeniable.

From outside the tent, one of the soldiers hurriedly complied. Within seconds, a flame flickered to life, illuminating the dim interior as a soldier handed Horus a burning torch.

Jade shrank back as the warm glow danced across her face. She knew what he was doing—he wanted to see her. To study her under the firelight.

Horus lifted the torch, his gaze roaming over her features, the fabric of her dress, the strange woven covering still clinging to her head. The flickering light deepened the hard lines of his face, making him look even more formidable.

"Come here." His voice was low, but the weight behind it left no room for refusal.

Jade didn't move.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his khopesh. "Now."

A fresh wave of fear surged through her. Her body trembled as she slowly, unsteadily, rose to her feet.

The moment she stepped forward, the firelight fully revealed her to him.

Horus's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind his eyes—something unreadable, a shift so slight that it was almost imperceptible.

But before he could speak—

"General?!"

Hassan's voice cut through the moment, and then—the tent flap was thrown open.

Several soldiers stood at the entrance, their eyes immediately locking onto Jade.

The stunned silence that followed was heavy.

Then—a blade was drawn.

"Who is she?" one of the soldiers demanded, stepping forward, his weapon at the ready.

Jade's pulse skyrocketed.

Horus remained silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on her, the flames casting deep shadows across his face.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"I don't know."