Into the Lion's Den

The journey to the capital began right away, the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky, casting golden hues over the endless dunes.

The air was thick with heat, carrying the scent of sand and distant greenery, and the dry winds swirled lazily across the desert.

The battalion moved as one, hooves pounding against the shifting dunes in steady rhythm, their shadows stretching long beneath the relentless sun.

Jade sat stiffly in front of the Pharaoh, her posture tense despite the firm grip of his hands on the reins.

Every breath she took was filled with his scent—earthy, masculine, laced with sweat and the faintest hint of oil used in the rituals of kings.

His body heat wrapped around her, a constant reminder of just how close they were.

"Relax," his deep voice rumbled behind her. "You're riding as if the horse is your enemy."

Jade scowled, shifting slightly. "Maybe that's because I feel like I'm sitting on a giant muscle-bound monster."

The Pharaoh huffed out a quiet chuckle, the vibration of it sending a shiver down her spine. "You are. But it listens to me."

"That makes one of us," she muttered under her breath, earning a deeper chuckle from him.

The banter helped ease some of the weight in her chest, but it did nothing to dull the ever-present awareness of him.

Every move he made—every subtle tug on the reins, every shift of his powerful frame—sent a ripple through her own body.

He was entirely at ease, while she felt like she was balancing on a thread.

The desert stretched endlessly before them, and yet, she could feel his gaze on her more than on the horizon.

"Tell me something, little lamb," he said after a long silence, his voice smooth, probing.

"You claim to be lost. But your tongue speaks my language as if you were born to it. Your mannerisms—strange as they are—carry a confidence I have never seen in a wanderer. So tell me… where are you really from?"

Jade's breath hitched, her mind scrambling for an answer. Lying to a Pharaoh was probably one of the fastest ways to end up dead, but the truth? The truth was even more dangerous.

She forced a shrug, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. "I've traveled a lot. Picked up languages along the way."

The Pharaoh hummed, clearly unimpressed. "A traveler. And yet, you carry no belongings, no supplies. You were found wandering, half-dead, alone."

Jade's fingers curled against the fabric of her dress. He was sharp. Too sharp.

"I was separated from my companions," she said quickly. "A sandstorm."

"Hmm." His fingers tightened slightly on the reins, but he said nothing more. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating.

Jade exhaled in relief as General Horus approached—finally. She had never imagined she would welcome his presence, yet at this moment, she did.

As he and the Pharaoh began discussing recent developments in his absence, including any movements from their enemies, she took the opportunity to steady herself, grateful for the shift in attention away from her.

Memphis the capital, loomed in the distance now, a mirage turning into reality.

The great city was sprawled along the banks of the Nile, its towering structures glinting under the sun's embrace. The closer they rode, the heavier Jade's chest felt.

She was being delivered straight into the hands of history.

And the Pharaoh beside her? He was the key to everything.

The conversation between the Pharaoh and General Horus stretched for an hour, but during that time, he found his attention straying—again and again—to the woman in his arms.

He couldn't help but admire her, the way the afternoon sun highlighted the golden undertones in her sand-colored hair, almost as if it had been spun from sunlight itself.

A fine layer of dust clung to the delicate bridge of her button nose, and her long lashes cast soft shadows against her cheeks.

But it was her eyes—those striking blue depths—that made his breath catch in his throat, an anomaly in this land, mesmerizing and unreadable.

His gaze drifted lower, lingering on her lips—soft, pink, and tempting. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away.

She was his prisoner, a mystery wrapped in fragile beauty, and yet, for reasons beyond his understanding, he found himself wanting to reach out, to touch, to claim.

But not here. Not now.

Soon..

As Jade felt his intense gaze lingering on her, she hesitantly turned to look up at him.

"Uh… my Pharaoh? I'm not sure if that's the right way to address you, but I—um—I need to talk to you about my situation."

Rameses grunted, "Call me Rameses. We'll talk once we reach the capital. Until then, I need to ensure you pose no threat to my people."

Jade's heart pounded as she looked up at him, desperation tightening her throat.

"You don't understand. I'm no threat to your people! I don't carry weapons, I've never harmed anyone—I just need your help to get home!" Her voice wavered, raw with emotion, her plea genuine and unguarded.

The Pharaoh's expression darkened instantly.

Home?

The very word sent an unfamiliar rage surging through him.

His jaw clenched, his grip on the reins turning his knuckles white as an unbearable possessiveness twisted inside him.

The mere thought of her leaving—of her vanishing from his sight—was unacceptable.

His body tensed, an urge rising within him to hold her, to keep her where he could see her, where she belonged.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he fought the impulse, his breath slow, controlled—but only barely.

"Enough," he growled, his voice low, lethal. "You are not going anywhere. Not until I deem you innocent."

Jade's face fell, her eyes glistening as she teetered on the edge of tears.

She looked away for a moment, swallowing hard, but then—just as he expected—she lifted her chin, determination flaring behind those striking blue eyes.

He knew that look. He had encountered countless women in his lifetime, and know that this little lamb is ready to unleash her wrath without fear of consequence.

He braced himself.

And yet, the thought of her crying, of seeing anguish or anger twist her delicate features, unsettled something deep inside him.

He didn't want her to be afraid, to be upset—not with him.

He wanted her at ease, safe, happy. But this was not the time. He had to control the situation, and more than that, he had to keep her.

He wasn't lying when he said she needed to be investigated. He would unravel the truth about her—about the visions, the nightmares that haunted him, and how this little lamb tied into them.

His golden eyes softened as they met hers. "Ssh… calm yourself," he murmured, his voice deep, steady. "Everything will be fine once we reach the capital. Nothing will happen to you—I promise you that."

Jade's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more.

Slowly, her shoulders relaxed, though the tension still lingered in the air between them.

And with that, they rode forward, the Pharaoh, the woman who unknowingly consumed his thoughts, and the hundreds of soldiers marching toward Memphis.