The Serpent in the Palace

Jade was surrounded by a flurry of servants as the Pharaoh led her through the palace corridors in silence.

The only sounds were the soft scuffing of their footsteps against the polished stone floor and the distant murmur of the palace beyond.

Despite walking beside him, an unspoken distance lingered between them.

As they neared her quarters, Rameses finally turned to her, his expression unreadable.

"I will see you at dinner tonight."

His voice was calm, firm—an expectation rather than an invitation. Before she could respond, he had already turned away, vanishing into the palace like a shadow.

His parting words echoed in her mind, yet the sudden emptiness in his absence unsettled her.

Oh well. He probably has more important matters to handle

Jade thought as she pushed aside the strange feeling lingering in her chest.

The sheer number of attendants bustling around her was overwhelming.

Their swift, practiced movements, the way they barely acknowledged her yet anticipated her every need, only emphasized how different her life had become.

In the modern world, she had lived in relative solitude. Here, she feels like she can't have alone time.

However when the servants opened the doors to her chamber. Everything she had known in the modern world paled in comparison to the grandeur she was stepping into.

Her bedroom was like a dream brought to life—impossibly beautiful. Unlike the rest of the palace, its decor was neither overly masculine nor feminine.

Instead, it was neutral, refined in a way that exuded elegance without excess. The openness of the chamber mirrored the vastness of the palace itself.

Her chambers embodied royal splendor, adorned with intricate carvings of lotus flowers and sacred symbols.

The walls, painted in deep ochre and blue, glowed under the flicker of alabaster oil lamps. Tall columns with papyrus-shaped capitals stretched toward the high ceiling, evoking a sense of grandeur and timelessness.

From her massive windows, framed with sheer white linen, she could see the Nile River stretching endlessly beneath the golden sunset.

A cool evening breeze drifted through, carrying the scent of myrrh and blooming lotus, filling the room with a soothing, almost hypnotic calm.

She sighed, feeling an unexpected sense of peace.

Despite the openness of the room, she did not feel vulnerable. Positioned high above the ground, the chamber was unreachable by any intruder—unless they wished to plummet to a swift and painful death.

Her bed, a grand four-poster draped in golden, sheer curtains, was massive, easily large enough to accommodate five people.

She ran her fingers over the silk sheets, noting the remarkable quality of the fabric.

"Silk?" she murmured, running her fingers over the luxurious fabric.

The texture was unmistakable—smooth, delicate, far finer than the linen commonly used in Egypt.

"This must have come from the East... but if they are trading with China already, why has no one worn it? Not even the Pharaoh."

She frowned, considering the possibilities. Perhaps it was too rare, too costly to be fashioned into clothing, reserved instead for only the most precious uses—bedding, ceremonial garments, or diplomatic gifts.

Or maybe its presence here was proof of a secret trade, an acquisition from a merchant who had traveled farther than most dared. Another mystery to unravel.

She exhaled and collapsed onto the bed, her mind racing. She stared at the ceiling, considering her next move.

If her calculations were correct, the Pharaoh still had time before his unexpected death—a year at most.

But did it even matter to her? She wasn't here to change history; she was here by accident, desperately searching for a way back home.

Yet, as she lay there staring at the ceiling, a thought unsettled her. If she was thrown into this world for a reason, what if that reason was him?

What if altering his fate was the key to her own?

She had time—time to understand why she was here, time to gain his trust, and time to uncover the truth behind her arrival. If saving the Pharaoh was the answer, then perhaps, just perhaps, it would lead her home.

If she saved the Pharaoh, would she be able to return home?

She didn't have an answer. The only thing she knows is figuring out a plan to go home. That's it.

Exhaustion pulled at her, and without realizing it, she drifted into sleep.

****

Kiya was still fuming from the report she had received earlier in the day. The image of the foreign woman beside Pharaoh burned in her mind like a brand, her fingers clenching into fists whenever she thought about it.

It had taken hours, a long soak in perfumed oils, and several cups of wine before she had calmed enough to receive further news from her spies.

"Everyone is talking about her! They say she looks like a goddess descended from the heavens, and—" Tah leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper, "—the Pharaoh is captivated by her. He personally escorted her to her chambers when he usually pays no mind to anyone."

The air in the chamber grew heavy.

Kiya's dark eyes flickered, her grip tightening around the cup before she set it down with deliberate care. "Is that so?" Her voice was soft, laced with something dangerously sweet.

Tah stiffened. She knew her mistress well. If another woman had caught Pharaoh's eye, Lady Kiya would not sit idly by.

Kiya was known for her beauty, the envy of every woman in the palace. Her rich, sun-kissed skin was flawless, her long black hair like silk, and her dark lashes framed hypnotic, piercing eyes.

Men flocked to her, drawn not only to her beauty but to the air of untouchable elegance she carried.

Nobles and warriors alike sought her favor, whispering their desires in the shadows, hoping for a glance, a smile, anything that would grant them a moment of her attention. 

Yet, Kiya never settled for less than what she deserved. Her beauty was undeniable—but so was her ambition.

The Pharaoh had always returned to her, no matter how many women graced his bed. That was the way of things. That was how it would always be.

Because Kiya made it so.

She recalled a foolish woman once, one who had shared Pharaoh's bed for a single night and thought herself special. She had begged for another audience with him, bribed servants, even sought the aid of his advisors.

And then one night she was caught sneaking into his chambers.

The Pharaoh had killed her himself.

Kiya had been upset, of course. She had cried before Rameses, lamenting the constant attention he received from other women, how she wished only to remain by his side.

He had not promised her exclusivity, but he had allowed her to share his meals and bought her expensive gifts, a small concession.

It was enough—for now.

She would not allow another to upset her delicate position.

Kiya stood, her linen robe slipping from her shoulder as she poured herself another cup of wine. "You know what to do," she said coldly, swirling the liquid in her glass.

"Observe her first. Then, when the time is right—kill her."

Tah bowed her head. "Yes, my lady."

Kiya watched as the crimson wine dribbled from her cup onto the plush white carpet. A slow smile curled her lips as the stain deepened.

"Nobody will take what is mine."