The God’s Favorite

Chapter 33

The throne room felt different now.

I stood at the base of the dais, staring up at the golden seat where I'd ruled for eight years with another presence guiding my every decision. The double crown rested on its stand nearby, morning light catching the gold and making it gleam like something alive. Like something waiting.

For eight years, sitting on that throne had meant negotiation. Seth's voice in my head, pushing for harsher judgments, crueler solutions. My conscience fighting back, trying to find mercy where he saw only weakness. Every decree had been a battle. Every proclamation, a compromise between what he wanted and what I could live with.

Now the battles were over. The throne was mine alone.

And I had no idea what to do with it.

"You're brooding."

I turned to find Enet in the doorway, a small smile playing at her lips. We'd fallen into a rhythm over the past few days—breakfast together, walks in the gardens, conversations that felt easier each time. She moved through the palace differently now, with the quiet authority of someone who'd stopped waiting for permission.

"Contemplating," I corrected. "Kings don't brood."

"My mistake." She crossed the room to stand beside me, following my gaze to the empty throne. "It looks lonely up there."

"It is."

The admission surprised us both. She glanced at me, something softening in her expression.

"Tell me," she said simply.

So I did.

"Eight years of shared consciousness," I began, the words coming slowly at first. "Eight years of never being alone in my own head. Seth was cruel, manipulative, constantly pushing for violence and chaos. But he was also certain. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it."

I moved closer to the throne, running my fingers along the carved armrest. Lions and serpents, symbols of power that had never truly been mine.

"When a delegation arrived with demands, Seth would analyze their weaknesses in seconds. When a noble challenged my authority, he'd know exactly which threats would make them kneel." I laughed bitterly. "I hated his methods. But I never had to wonder what to do."

"And now?"

"Now I sit in council meetings and everyone looks to me for answers." I turned to face her. "Do you know what I think about? Not strategy, not wisdom. I think about all the decisions I made because Seth pushed me, and I can't tell anymore which ones were mine. Which parts of my rule came from me, and which were just... him, wearing my face."

Enet was quiet for a moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. "Does it matter?"

"What?"

"Whether the decisions were his or yours." She moved to sit on the dais steps, looking up at me with that directness I'd come to appreciate. "The nobles obeyed because they saw a strong king. The people prospered because the kingdom was stable. Egypt survived."

"Egypt survived despite me. Despite the monster in my head who killed anyone who—"

"Egypt survived because you held him back." Her voice sharpened. "Because for eight years, you fought to keep some shred of mercy in a body that wanted only destruction. You think that doesn't count? You think that wasn't ruling?"

I stared at her. No one had ever framed it that way. Not the priests who whispered about possession, not the courtiers who feared my shifting moods. Certainly not Seth, who'd mocked my resistance as weakness.

"The council meets tomorrow," I said finally. "The Hittites are making noise about border territories again. Three nobles are feuding over water rights. The temple of Ptah wants additional funding for their expansion."

"And?"

"And I don't know what to do about any of it." The words tasted like failure. "Seth would have had seventeen plans before breakfast. I have nothing but doubt."

Enet rose from the steps, climbing until she stood on the dais itself, beside the throne. A concubine standing where only royalty belonged—the guards at the door shifted uncomfortably, but neither of us acknowledged them.

"The Hittites," she said, as if testing the word. "What do they actually want?"

"They claim we've encroached on disputed farmland."

"Have you?"

"Possibly. The border has always been vague in that region."

"Then clarify it." She shrugged. "Send surveyors, establish markers, invite Hittite observers to witness. Make the process transparent so they can't claim deception later."

I blinked. "That's... actually reasonable."

"The water rights?"

"Three nobles, one river tributary, not enough to go around."

"Who controls the land upstream?"

"Lord Sennefer. He's been diverting more than his share for years."

"Then make him pay for the privilege." She tilted her head, thinking. "Establish a water tax based on diversion volume. Use the revenue to dig irrigation channels for the others. Everyone benefits, Sennefer pays for his greed, and you look generous rather than punitive."

I found myself smiling despite everything. "You've thought about this."

"I've listened." She met my eyes steadily. "Servants talk. Merchants gossip. The harem women complain about their families' disputes. You learn a lot when no one thinks you're worth noticing."

"I notice you."

The words came out softer than I intended. She looked away, a faint flush coloring her cheeks.

"The temple of Ptah," she said, clearly redirecting. "What do they want for the funding?"

"Expansion. More priests, more ceremonies, more influence." I sighed. "Ptahmose has been pushing for it since before... before everything."

Something flickered in her expression at her stepfather's name. Old pain, quickly buried. "Deny them."

"Just like that?"

"The temples have enough power. More funding means more leverage against the crown." Her voice hardened. "And Ptahmose uses that leverage for his own benefit, not Egypt's. He's been building alliances among the priesthood for years. Don't give him more tools."

I studied her—this woman who'd survived her stepfather's cruelty, who'd been sold to the palace like merchandise, who somehow emerged sharper and stronger than anyone had expected.

"You'd make a formidable queen."

The words hung between us, heavy with implications neither of us had anticipated. She laughed, the sound uncertain, almost nervous.

"You're joking."

"Am I?"

Her laughter died. She searched my face, looking for the punchline that wasn't coming. I held her gaze steadily, letting her see that I meant exactly what I'd said.

"Ram—"

The throne room doors crashed open.

A messenger stumbled through, dropping to his knees with the kind of urgency that meant nothing good. The guards moved to intercept him, but I raised my hand.

"Speak."

"Your Majesty." The man's voice trembled. "The High Priest Ptahmose has arrived at the palace. He requests an immediate audience regarding urgent temple matters."

Beside me, Enet went rigid. Her face became a careful mask, but I saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Ptahmose. Her stepfather. The man who'd sold her to the harem and smiled while doing it.

"Tell him I'll receive him in one hour," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "He may wait in the reception hall."

The messenger bowed and fled. The doors closed behind him, leaving us alone with the weight of what was coming.

"Enet—"

"I should go." Her voice was steady, but something had shuttered behind her eyes. "You'll want to prepare for your audience."

"You could stay. Face him with me."

She shook her head slowly. "Not yet. Not like this." She stepped down from the dais, the brief moment of equality already fading. "But Ram? Whatever he wants, whatever temple matters he claims to bring—don't trust him. He's never done anything that didn't serve his own interests."

"I know."

She paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"You'll figure out how to rule alone," she said quietly. "You're already better at it than you think."

Then she was gone, and I was left staring at the empty throne, wondering which challenge would prove harder. Facing Ptahmose's schemes, or understanding what I'd just admitted to the woman who might be capable of sharing that golden seat.