The God’s Favorite
Description
In ancient Egypt's golden temples, Persenet serves in shadow-a half-Greek daughter hiding shameful golden hair beneath heavy wigs, enduring contempt for her foreign blood. When her betrothed chooses her pure-blooded sister instead, betrayal drives her to the Nile's edge, ready to surrender to its dark waters. Within the Golden House, where concubines whisper of old curses and women disappear into palace shadows, Persenet discovers her fate is far more complex than mere servitude. Summoned before the young Pharaoh, she finds herself entangled in mysteries that defy mortal understanding. Her birthmark burns with divine heat in the royal presence, while amber eyes hold secrets that shift like desert sands.
Chapter 1
Jan 20, 2026
POV Persenet
His hands are in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat, and I can't breathe, don't want to. Crimson eyes burn into mine with hunger that makes my whole body ache. Dark-red hair falls like a curtain around us as I pull him closer.
His mouth is hot against my pulse, teeth grazing skin that burns for more. The air between us tastes of myrrh and something… darker.
Something ancient that calls to a part of me I don't recognize.
"Mine," he growls against my throat.
The word vibrates through my bones like temple drums, and I'm agreeing. Begging, arching into him as his hands slide lower. Claiming me with a possession that should terrify but instead makes me feel whole when his fingers reaches—
"Enet!” Tameri's voice shatters everything. “By Hathor, you're moaning like a cat in heat!"
She yanks me from sleep into harsh morning light that streams through the narrow window of my chamber. My body still throbs from the phantom touch of a man whose face dissolves like smoke the moment my eyes open.
Every time. Every cursed time, I lose him before I can see who torments my dreams with pleasure that feels more real than my waking life.
"We need to prepare for temple service," my friend continues, already pulling back the rough linen curtains to flood my small chamber with Ra's first light.
The room—if you can call a storage alcove converted to house an unwanted daughter a room—fills with the sounds of Thebes awakening: vendors hawking bread, donkeys braying, the distant chant of priests greeting the sun.
"Unless you plan to explain to your stepfather why his wife's bastard daughter is late to her duties?"
I groan, pressing my palms against my eyes. The dream clings to me like oil on water, impossible to wash clean. "Give me a moment…"
"Was it the same dream again?" Tameri asks, her voice softening as she sits on my sleeping mat. "The one with the stranger?"
The shame floods through me like the annual inundation, drowning everything in its path. How can I explain that these dreams started three months ago, the very night Khenti left for his campaign?
How can I tell her that every night since, I've betrayed the man I love in visions so vivid I wake tasting another's kiss?
"Yes…" My voice comes out smaller than I intend, heavy with the guilt that gnaws at my ka like a hungry jackal. "Tam, what's wrong with me? Soon, I become officially bound to the man I love, and yet I dream of another man's hands, another's mouth—"
"It's just a dream, habibti." She squeezes my shoulder. "Dreams mean nothing when a real man of flesh and blood waits to make you his wife. The gods send us strange visions to test our resolve. Besides…" she adds with a wicked grin.
The one that reminds me why she's my only friend in this house of hidden hatreds.
"Perhaps it's Khenti in your dreams, transformed by your sleeping mind into something more... exotic. More dangerous."
I want to believe her, but I know Khenti's touch. Gentle and reluctant, treating me like I might break, like the taint of my Greek blood makes me fragile.
The stranger in my dreams handles me like I'm already his, like I've always been his. Like I was born to burn beneath his hands.
"Come," Tameri urges, pulling me to my feet. "We must hurry."
I dress quickly in the rough-spun linen appropriate for a servant, though technically I'm the High Priest's stepdaughter. The distinction matters little when everyone knows the truth.
I'm the visible reminder of my mother's shame. The Greek sailor's bastard she couldn't hide or get rid of.
My fingers work automatically, securing the heavy black wig that hides my greatest disgrace: hair the color of coastal sand or straw. Clearly inherited from a father who sailed away before I drew my first breath.
We walk through the dawn streets toward the Temple of Anubis, the city of Thebes awakening around us in a symphony of life and commerce.
I keep my head properly bowed, my wig heavy and secure, though sweat already gathers at my nape in the growing heat.
"Three months," I murmur to Tameri as we passed a statue of Thutmose III. "Three months of military campaign, and Khenti returns today. His last letter promised—"
"That he'd make you the happiest woman in all of Egypt," Tameri finishes, having helped me read it dozens of times by lamp when the house slept. "See? No more guilt about dream strangers. Your real beloved returns to claim you."
The Temple of Anubis rises before us like a mountain of shadow.
My sister stands at the entrance in her pristine white linen across one shoulder, draped perfectly. Her skin kissed by the sun, her breasts adorned with gold that catches the light like small stars.
Nefertari's smile could fool the gods themselves. Warm and welcoming, the picture of a devoted priestess greeting the dawn.
Until the crowds pass.
"Persenet," she says, and my name becomes something dirty in her mouth. "You're nearly late. Again."
Her dark eyes, so like our mother's but holding none of her former warmth, scan me with practiced disgust.
"The offering stones require scrubbing before the morning prayers. The blood from yesterday's sacrifices has attracted flies. Surely even someone of your... background can manage at least that?"
"With all respect," Tameri begins, her chin lifting in that dangerous way that's earned her beatings before, "Enet works harder than—"
"Than a properly-born daughter needs to," Nefertari cuts her off smoothly. "How fortunate that the High Priest tolerates his wife's... earlier mistakes. How generous that my father allows the half-Greek bastard to serve in sacred spaces at all."
The words shouldn't still hurt. I've heard variations of them for years, since my childhood, since my mother married the High Priest Ptahmose and I became the shameful secret everyone could see.
But Nefertari has perfected the art of making old wounds bleed fresh, finding new ways to twist the knife of my existence.
"Speaking of fortune," she continues, adjusting her beautiful and real dark hair, unlike mine, "I hear whispers from the military quarter. They say a certain general's son returns today with glory and promotion. I wonder if he is as desperate to meet you as you are..."
Before I can process the strange glint in her eyes, commotion erupts at the temple entrance.
Soldiers' voices carry across the courtyard, bronze armor clanking, horses snorting, and Nefertari gasps with perfectly practiced delight. "By Anubis, they're here already!"
My heart stops. Starts. Races like a spooked horse as Khenti strides through the gates.
Three months of military campaign having bronzed his skin and hardened his frame. His eyes search the courtyard with an urgency that makes my pulse sing.
I'm already moving, dignity abandoned, my love's name rising in my throat—
But Nefertari is faster. She glides across the stones with a priestess's practiced grace, her hips swaying in the rhythms taught in the sacred dances. She reaches him while I'm still halfway there, my servant's rough sandals catching on the uneven ground.
I stumble to a halt, watching as my sister's hands touch the arms of my future husband in greeting. Watching as his eyes linger on the sway of her hips, the curve of her neck.
Before finally—finally—finding me frozen like a fool in the middle of the courtyard.
The God’s Favorite
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