Anger

The grand hall was quiet. Too quiet.

Jade sat at the long, gilded table draped in ivory linen, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of her goblet. She hadn't touched the wine.

Across from her, Rameses sat draped in gold and silence. He hadn't said a word since she entered.

She hadn't looked at him once.

The tension between them was thick—like the air before a sandstorm. Every breath felt weighted with what had happened earlier in the bathhouse. 

The kiss. His arms around her. Her own traitorous reaction.The name. 

Jade stared at her plate, trying to focus on the delicate arrangement of fruits and roasted meats instead of the way her skin still burned where he'd touched her.

He said another woman's name.

She had no idea who that was… but she hated how the name still echoed in her mind.

Rameses, for once, looked subdued. His usual self-assuredness dimmed into something far more complex. 

He sat like a king but watched her like a man trying to piece together a dream he hadn't meant to wake from.

The silence stretched. Longer. He opened his mouth—then closed it again.

Finally, Jade broke it.

"Planning to glare at me all night?" she muttered, still not meeting his eyes.

He let out a quiet breath. "Would you prefer I not look at you at all?"

Her jaw clenched. "I'd prefer not to be paraded into another of your personal games."

Before he could respond, the heavy doors to the hall creaked open.

A new presence entered the room—gliding across the polished stone floor with slow, deliberate grace. Her steps were silent, but her arrival commanded attention all the same.

She looked like a living painting—an embodiment of Egyptian nobility in motion. Draped in a sheer violet linen gown that clung to her curves like liquid dusk, she moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how powerful her presence was.

Her skin was a rich sun-kissed bronze, smooth and glowing beneath the torchlight. Thick dark hair flowed down her back like a river of obsidian, partially braided in elegant strands threaded with gold. 

Her eyes were lined in kohl, sharp and almond-shaped, giving her a look that was both sultry and cunning.

Jade blinked.

She hadn't expected… that.

Despite herself, she took in every detail—how the violet fabric contrasted with Kiya's skin, the way her hips moved like they had their own rhythm, how even her posture radiated control. 

Voluptuous, regal, absolutely stunning.

A bitter thought whispered through Jade's mind:

So that's the kind of woman who belongs at a Pharaoh's table.

Wait, hold on–is this her? Satsobek??

Kiya's gaze swept the room—and landed on Rameses. Her full lips curved into a knowing smile as she walked past Jade without so much as a glance.

"I wasn't told we were expecting guests tonight," she purred, moving to Rameses' side with ease.

She lowered herself beside him like she belonged there, every movement smooth and practiced. Her bare shoulder brushed against his arm, and her fingers came to rest on the table—close enough to touch his, but not quite. 

A deliberate tease.

"Isn't it a beautiful evening?" she said sweetly, eyes locked on him. "I do love sharing your nights, my king."

Jade's appetite vanished.

She reached for her goblet more out of something to do with her hands than actual thirst.

The wine went untouched as she watched Kiya glide into place beside Rameses like a living ornament.

The silence was short-lived.

Kiya turned her head slowly, her dark gaze landing on Jade for the first time.

"So…" she began, drawing out the word like silk. "This is the foreign woman I've been hearing about all day."

Her eyes swept over Jade from head to toe—lingering. 

Not admiring, assessing. She took in the tailored drape of the fine linen Jade wore, the way it hugged her waist, the simple but elegant gold circlet nestled in her hair. 

Kiya's smile twitched, just slightly.

"My name is Kiya.. and I must admit," she said with a small tilt of her head, "I imagined someone more… traditionally dressed."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice turning a shade too casual.

"And perhaps… less polished, after being pulled out of a bath."

The jab was subtle—but the edge was unmistakable.

So this is not her..

Jade sat a little straighter, a little bit relieved.

But who is she to act so rude? 

Let her see how unbothered I am.

"And I imagined someone with better manners at a royal table," she said smoothly, lifting her eyes to meet Kiya's. 

"But I guess we're both disappointed."

Kiya blinked, her smile tightening just a touch. Rameses sat silently as he observed the two women, his jaw clenching—but still silent, eyes locked on Jade.

Kiya leaned in ever so slightly, as if sharing a secret.

"I suppose you must be special, if you're allowed to speak that freely in court." Her voice dripped with honey, but the barb was sharp beneath it. 

"Or perhaps Pharaoh is simply… being generous these days."

Jade opened her mouth, but Kiya cut in again.

"After all, it wouldn't be the first time he let a pretty face distract him from his duties. After all he did it with me.."

That did it.

Rameses shifted in his seat—not just irritated, but dangerously calm.

When he spoke, his voice was cold and sharp as obsidian.

"Watch your tongue, Kiya."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden drop in temperature.

"I allowed you to speak," he continued, tone still quiet—but deadly. "Not to insult my guest. And certainly not to insult me."

Kiya's smile faltered, her body tensing.

Rameses didn't stop.

"You were not summoned. You were not invited. And now you've overstayed your welcome."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze cutting into her like a blade.

"Leave. Now."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

Kiya stared at him, her expression flickering with disbelief—then hurt. Her lips parted like she might argue… but something in his face stopped her cold.

She stood, spine straight, and bowed stiffly.

"As you wish, my king. I will be waiting for your message tonight"

Her exit was silent, but the fury in her steps couldn't be disguised. She didn't look at Jade again.

Rameses remained still, jaw tense, eyes fixed on the space where Kiya had just been.

Jade stared down at her plate, pulse racing—but kept her face calm.

Ruthless as it was… part of her hadn't expected him to defend her. Not like that.

He finally turned to her, voice quieter now.

"I didn't know she was in the palace," he said, almost like an apology. "She's not someone I keep close anymore."

Jade said nothing. Not yet.

She reached for her goblet, took a slow sip of wine, and let the silence stretch.

Let him sit with it.

Jade didn't respond.

No glance. No nod. No comment about the woman who had just tried to humiliate her.

Because she didn't care.

Not about Kiya. Not about whatever complicated past they shared.

She was tired of the drama. The heat. The confusion. And most of all—him.

Her goblet clicked softly as she set it back down.

"I'd like to discuss something else," she said coolly, finally lifting her eyes to his.

He stilled. "Go on."

She didn't blink.

"I want to go home. And since you seem to have a great deal of power in this world… I'd like to know how you can help me return."

There was no tremble in her voice. No plea. Just steel.

"I won't sit around being dressed up and paraded like some new favorite," she added, her tone sharp now. "So if you care even a little about what I want—then help me go home."

I need to go home and forget all of this ever happened. Especially him.

The words struck like a slap. Not that she cared.

Let him feel it.

Let him know she wasn't going to melt just because he kissed her like she was made for him. Just because his arms felt like a memory.

She was done playing his game.