Zahra leaned against a stone-cold pillar, stifling a yawn she could no longer contain.
Sleep had eluded her for days now. The palace was quiet — too quiet. No reports from the guards, no disturbances, no warnings. And somehow, that was arguably more concerning than chaos. As her mind reeled, the chill of the stone seeped through her clothes, grounding and welcome. She let herself lean into it, just for a moment.
They'd been in the Great Hall for hours, waiting as the Pharaoh listened to the pleas of his people and communed with his guardians. Normally, she liked this part of the job; it was nice to see the Pharaoh speak with his people. He was firm but always fair, just like the great ruler he was, and for the most part, everyone left satisfied.
But not today.
Today, she wanted time to move faster.
When the guardians finally called for a brief recess, relief washed over her. Her shoulders loosened, and her eyes grew heavy.
Suddenly, she was lying on silk sheets.
They were cool and smooth beneath her, sliding over her skin with indulgent and loving familiarity. Her breath slowed. The world softened.
"Zahra?"
The voice was low. Gentle. A lover's call.
Warmth brushed her shoulder, then her arm — slow, deliberate strokes that coaxed a quiet moan from her throat before she could stop it. She leaned into the sensation instinctively, her body arching toward the touch.
She imagined his voice. Lately, she had allowed herself that fantasy more often than she should have, hearing him speak her name not in command or concern, but like this.
Another warmth wrapped around her waist. Steady, and sure.
So good…
Her body hummed, and her skin prickled, every nerve catching heat.
"More," she murmured, moving further into it.
She smiled contentedly, drifting–
And then there was nothing.
No bed. No silk.
Gravity seized her.
She fell — just for a heartbeat — enough to stir her, before colliding with something solid. The warmth returned abruptly, a speeding pulse thrumming through.
"Zahra, are you quite alright?"
This voice wasn't imaginary…
Her eyes flew open.
She stumbled forward, heart slamming into her ribs, and found herself face-to-face with the man she had just been imagining.
The Pharaoh.
"Y-yes," she blurted. "Yes, Pharaoh, I'm fine. Absolutely fine. Completely fine."
He studied her, brow furrowed.
"You look flushed," he said, eyes flicking briefly—traitorously—to her throat.
Oh gods. Had she made a sound?
Had anyone else heard her?
Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. She slapped her hands against them uselessly, as if she could will it away.
She mumbled something incoherent.
"So, you're…" he said carefully. "Fine?"
Oh Gods, oh Gods. Oh Gods.
She stuttered as she struggled to get any audible words at all out of her mouth.
"I—I have to—excuse me."
Before he could say another word, she spun on her heel and fled, ducking behind a distant pillar. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the stone, burying her face in her hands.
What the hell is wrong with you?
She couldn't help but smack her hands against her head.
Desire. Duty. Shame. Anger. She couldn't tell where one ended and the next began anymore. It had been easy before, when there was distance, control, and rules.
But now—
Now her body remembered his hands. His breath. His fingers and jawline grazing against her…
Her body craved more.
She forced herself upright and peeked around the pillar. The Pharaoh was engaged in a tense exchange with Seto, their voices low but sharp, bordering on argument.
A sigh of relief escaped her; Seto would likely keep him busy for a while.
She didn't mind Seto, the man whose surly attitude and determination could rival her own. They never spoke, never needed to; they each had a mutual respect for the other's loyalty to their Pharaoh. His loyalty was to the Pharaoh and the land, ensuring the well-being of the people and the economy. Hers was the Pharaoh's immediate protection and security.
She cursed softly.
How could she protect him when she couldn't even clear her thoughts of him?
A rush of air brushed past her.
Her instincts screamed.
Her gaze snapped upward to the small balcony, too small for spectators, which was only used when making repairs to the carvings in the wall.
There—a shadow where no shadow should be.
Then she saw it, a slight hint of metal glinting in the light that poured through the open roof.
Her feet moved before she realised.
"Pharaoh—get down!"
He spun immediately.
His face filled with concern at her cry. He wasn't far away, but it felt like time itself was slowing down around her. She moved as fast as her feet would let her and watched as his face slowly went through confusion, deduction and realisation at what was happening.
She looked up at the intruder.
The glint of metal became a crossbow.
She cried out to him, urging her feet to move faster, and turned back to the Pharaoh.
Seto spotted the intruder, but the Pharaoh pushed him aside as the guardian tried to shield him.
The world narrowed to motion and instinct.
Her body moved faster.
Everything was heightened. Her senses had peaked.
She could see tiny dust particles wave frantically in the light from the commotion.
The stone felt colder than usual beneath her feet.
Her eyes widened in terror as she heard the unmistakable clunk and whoosh of a released crossbow.
Zahra launched herself forward, and her feet left the ground. She smelled him before she reached him—heat, spice, something unmistakably him. They crashed into Seto, all three hitting the floor as guards surged around them in a wall of steel.
Seto and the Pharaoh fumbled around, trying to get their bearings.
"Zahra, are you—"
Pain exploded through her thigh.
White-hot. Blinding.
The world rang — a shrill, endless sound — as the Pharaoh loomed over her. He shook her shoulders and looked like he was shouting something.
She couldn't hear him.
His hands were everywhere—too close, too desperate—and she dimly wondered if he realised.
Everything dulled, the earlier rush of sensation collapsing into raw pain.
Couldn't feel anything but the spreading fire and the violent tremor overtaking her body.
Seto pointed — an arrow protruded clean through her thigh, blood already darkening the stone beneath her. Far too fast.
Orders were shouted. Magic stirred.
She was still conscious, though she felt she wasn't in her own body.
The Pharaoh snapped the arrow shaft with brutal strength and sniffed at it, his expression hardening. He started shouting something she couldn't make out.
Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.
The last thing she saw was his face — frantic, terrified — shaking her shoulders and holding her cheeks, before the world collapsed.
Zahra jolted upright with a gasp.
Cold sweat clung as she clawed at herself —just for a second—phantom pain blooming and fading before she could question it.
She was whole. Unbroken. No pain.
And sitting on a plane.
"Oh! You're awake," an elderly man beside her said kindly. "We were beginning to wonder."
She murmured an apology while rubbing her face.
The light beyond the window felt too bright. Too sharp.
She briefly wondered why she was on a plane. But quickly quashed it; there had been enough pain for one day. Fighting memories—or reality—wasn't on her list right now.
The captain's voice crackled overhead, announcing their descent.
Zahra nodded at the faceless voice and looked out the window.
Towering buildings gleamed in the dawn. Much bigger than she was used to, even in the city back home, all clustered and organised like cliques of friends at a restaurant, gossiping and huddling around a table together.
Domino City.
She was here.
"One step at a time," she whispered to herself.
First stop: coffee.
Or something stronger?
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Whoa!! Whoa!! Whoa!! Doing something embarrassing in front of your crush AND getting shot by an arrow?
Bad day... For certain!
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Stay safe, my lovelies,
Lauren xxx