CHAPTER 3
The heavy blade of Commander Haremhab’s bronze khopesh sliced through the air, catching the brilliant glare of the Egyptian sun. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. I couldn’t move. My legs were pinned beneath me, and my crushed hand throbbed so violently that the pain threatened to turn the entire world black. I could see the sweat flying from his brow, his teeth bared like a rabid desert wolf, his eyes wide with the frantic panic of a guilty man about to lose everything.
He didn’t care about the Pharaoh’s law anymore. He didn’t care about the thousand nobles watching from the tiered stone benches of the grand arena. He knew that if I lived past this hour, his crimes would be shouted from the rooftops of Memphis to the banks of the Nile. To save himself, he had to make sure the true heir of Prince Seti died right here on the polished marble floor.
“Die, you miserable slum rat!” Haremhab roared, his voice cracking with desperation.
I clamped my eyes shut, bracing for the cold bite of metal. I thought of my mother, sleeping in her lonely, unmarked grave in the shifting desert sands. I thought of the hunger that had hollowed out my stomach for twelve long years. So this is how it ends, I thought. Just when I finally find out who I am, I die on the floor of my family’s palace.
But the strike never came.
A massive, echoing CLANG shattered the silence of the pavilion, followed by a wet, choking gasp.
I forced my eyes open. Standing directly over me was a wall of muscle clad in dark leather and gleaming bronze armor. It was the captain of the Pharaoh’s personal bodyguard, the elite Medjay executioner. He had lunged forward at the last possible second, throwing his heavy, curved shield directly into the path of Haremhab’s blade. The impact was so violent that sparks flew, and Haremhab’s sword was knocked clean out of his grip, clattering loudly down the sandstone steps.
Before Haremhab could recover his balance, four more royal guards tackled him from behind, slamming his massive body face-first onto the marble. The heavy crash of his armor echoed like thunder.
“Release me!” Haremhab screamed, his face pressed against the stone, spitting out blood and dust. “Sire, this is a trap! The High Priest is old and blind! He has been deceived by the enemies of the throne! I am your loyal commander! I have protected your borders for twenty years!”
The Pharaoh did not answer him immediately. He walked past the struggling guards, his long linen robes rustling against the floor, and stopped right in front of me. The supreme ruler of Egypt, a man considered a living god by millions, slowly lowered himself until his knees touched the dust. He reached out with trembling, wrinkled hands and gently lifted my head, forcing me to look into his dark, wet eyes.
“The nose,” the Pharaoh murmured, his voice shaking so softly it was meant only for me to hear. “You have your father’s nose. And the shape of your eyes… they belong to my beloved brother, Seti. For twelve years, I have wept for a ghost. I have built monuments to a family I believed was turned to ash by a tragic fire. And all this time, my own blood was begging for scraps outside my very gates.”
“Sire…” I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek, washing a clean line through the dried blood on my skin. “My mother… she spent her whole life looking over her shoulder. She died of the winter cough because we couldn’t afford medicine from the temple. She died in hiding.”
The Pharaoh’s grip tightened on my shoulders, his knuckles turning white. A deep, primal rage filled his eyes, transforming him from a grieving uncle into a terrifying monarch of the desert. He stood up slowly, turning around to face his court. The gentle sorrow on his face vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute fury.
“Anen,” the Pharaoh called out to the High Priest, his voice booming across the arena. “Bring the sacred registry of bloodlines forward. Read the decree of Prince Seti’s estate. Let every noble, every merchant, and every slave in this city hear the truth.”
The High Priest stepped forward, his shaved head glistening under the sun. He unrolled the heavy, ancient papyrus scroll, his voice clear and resonant.
“On the fifth day of the harvest season, twelve years ago, the estate of Prince Seti was consumed by a mysterious blaze,” the High Priest read, his eyes darting toward the pinned commander. “The official report, written and sealed by Commander Haremhab, stated that no one survived. The wealth of the estate—ten thousand gold pieces, hundreds of cattle, and the fertile lands along the eastern bank of the Nile—was legally transferred to the military treasury under Haremhab’s direct control, as compensation for his ‘heroic’ efforts to save the royal family.”
A low murmur grew among the thousands of spectators. The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. It wasn’t a tragic accident. It was an assassination driven by pure, unadulterated greed.
“You butchered my brother’s household guards while they slept,” the Pharaoh said, stepping toward the bound commander. His voice was terrifyingly calm, like the eye of a desert sandstorm. “You locked the doors from the outside. You set fire to the home of the man who called you his brother-in-arms. But my sister-in-law survived the smoke. She crawled through the drainage tunnels, carrying the infant heir in her arms, and hid in the only place you would never look—the filth of the slums.”
“It’s a lie!” Haremhab bellowed, his voice straining as he tried to break free from the guards holding him down. “You have no proof! A birthmark can be faked! A crazy old woman’s stories mean nothing! I am the commander of your armies! The soldiers follow me, not this weak, broken beggar boy!”
That was his fatal mistake. In his panic, Haremhab had threatened the absolute authority of the Pharaoh. He had implied that the military belonged to him, not the throne.
The Pharaoh smiled, but it was a cold, humorless expression that made the guards themselves shudder.
“You think the army follows a thief and a murderer, Haremhab?” the Pharaoh asked quietly. “Let us find out.”
The Pharaoh turned his gaze toward the grand entrance of the arena, where the elite soldiers of the city guard stood in long, disciplined lines. They had witnessed everything. They had seen their legendary commander stomp on a helpless child, and they had just heard the confession of a horrific betrayal against the royal bloodline.
“Soldiers of Egypt!” the Pharaoh commanded, raising his golden sceptre high into the air. “Who do you serve? Do you serve the treacherous dog who burns babies in their cribs for gold, or do you serve the living lineage of Ra?”
For a terrifying moment, there was absolute silence. Then, a massive sound shattered the air. One by one, the soldiers crashed their bronze spears against their heavy leather shields. The rhythmic, deafening THUD-THUD-THUD rattled the very stones of the arena. Thousands of men in uniform simultaneously dropped to one knee, lowering their heads toward the throne—and toward me.
Haremhab’s jaw dropped. The reality of his complete defeat finally crashed down on him. The absolute power he had wielded for twelve years was stripping away like dry papyrus in a fire. He was no longer a feared commander. He was a cornered beast, surrounded by the very men he used to command.
“Bring him down to the arena sand,” the Pharaoh ordered the Medjay guards. “Where he thought he could hide his sins. Strip him of his armor. Strip him of his rank. Let him stand before the people as the naked, worthless criminal he truly is.”
The guards dragged Haremhab down the grand marble steps, ignoring his curses and screams. They tore the polished bronze breastplate from his chest, throwing it into the dirt. They ripped away his fine linen kilt, leaving him in nothing but a ragged loincloth, his heavy muscles shivering not from cold, but from sheer terror.
The crowd of nobles, the same people who had laughed and cheered when Haremhab pressed his heavy boot into my bleeding hand, suddenly changed their tune. They began to hiss and spit down at him. “Traitor!” a wealthy woman shouted, throwing her heavy gold ring directly at his face, cutting his cheek. “Murderer of princes! Curse your soul to Ammit!”
I watched it all from the high pavilion, still cradling my broken hand against my chest. The Pharaoh turned back to me, his eyes filled with a deep, protective warmth. He called for the royal physicians, who rushed forward with soothing lotus ointments and clean white linen bandages. They gently took my shattered fingers, applying the cool medicine that instantly dulled the burning agony.
“My boy,” the Pharaoh said softly, wrapping a heavy silk cloak around my trembling, thin shoulders. “Your days of running are over. Your days of hunger are gone. But justice in Egypt is not complete until the scales of Anubis are balanced. You were forced to face a monster today because of this man’s cruelty. It is only fitting that you decide how his story ends.”
The Pharaoh placed a heavy bronze dagger into my uninjured left hand. The handle was wrapped in pure gold wire, cool and solid against my palm.
“Go down there,” my uncle whispered, pointing to the arena floor where Haremhab knelt in the dirt, surrounded by spears. “Show the kingdom that the blood of Prince Seti does not beg for mercy. It commands it.”
CHAPTER 4
The walk down the grand sandstone steps felt completely different this time. Only an hour ago, I had been dragged down these same steps like a piece of worthless meat, my bare feet burning against the hot stone, my voice hoarse from begging for a mercy that would never come. Now, the heavy silk cloak of the royal house trailed behind me, wiping the very dust I had wept upon.
The thousands of eyes in the stadium were still fixed on me, but the disgust and boredom were entirely gone. In their place was an intense, breathless reverence. As I walked past the rows of wealthy nobles, they bowed their heads so low their foreheads nearly touched their knees. They were looking at a miracle—a dead prince raised from the slums, walking with the quiet dignity of a lion.
When my feet touched the loose, hot sand of the arena floor, the heat didn’t seem to bite as hard anymore. A few yards away stood the massive iron cage of the towering, fanged serpent. The beast was restless, its dark green scales scraping against the metal bars, its yellow eyes locked onto the scent of fresh blood in the air.
And right there, in the middle of the arena, knelt Commander Haremhab.
Without his gleaming bronze armor and his fine linen robes, he looked incredibly small. His broad shoulders were slumped, his skin covered in a mixture of sweat and the pale sand of the desert. The heavy bronze spears of the Medjay guards formed a circle of sharp metal teeth around him, keeping him pinned to his knees. When he heard my footsteps approaching, he slowly lifted his head.
The cold, arrogant glare that had defined his face for decades was completely gone. His lips were chapped and trembling, and a deep, bloody gash from the noblewoman’s thrown ring was dripping down his neck. For the first time in his life, Haremhab was looking up at me from the dirt.
I stopped just three paces away from him. I held the golden royal dagger in my left hand, the blade catching the fierce afternoon light. My right hand, wrapped tightly in clean white temple linen, was held against my chest. The pain was still there, a dull, throbbing reminder of his heavy boot, but it no longer controlled me.
“Look at you,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, echoing through the silent stadium. I used the exact same words he had used against me just a short time ago. “The great commander of the armies. The hand of the Pharaoh. You look just like the rats you said I belonged with.”
Haremhab swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically to the golden dagger in my hand. He knew how easily that blade could slide between his ribs. He knew that if I plunged it into his heart right now, the entire kingdom would cheer for my vengeance.
“Prince… Prince Nefiri,” he whispered, using my true royal name for the very first time. The words sounded awkward and heavy in his mouth. “Please… I did what I had to do for the stability of the kingdom. Your father… your father was going to divide the army. I was protecting Egypt. I spared your mother! I could have hunted her down, but I let her live!”
“You didn’t spare her,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that made his shoulders tremble. “You left her to starve in the alleys. You made her watch her child beg for scraps of molded bread while you sat in a palace built on our inheritance. You didn’t give her life, Haremhab. You gave her a slow, agonizing death.”
He dropped his head, staring at the sand between his knees. “Have mercy,” he choked out, tears finally breaking through his stoic mask, mixing with the dust on his face. “I beg of you… do not give me to the executioner’s block. Let me take a boat down the Nile. Let me go into exile in the lands of Kush. I will never return. I will vanish forever.”
I looked at his weeping form, and then I looked up at the royal pavilion, where the Pharaoh sat watching with intense focus. The entire court was waiting for the bloody payoff. They wanted to see the young prince take his first life. They wanted to see the dirt stained with the blood of a traitor.
I raised the golden dagger high into the air. Haremhab flinched, closing his eyes tightly, bracing for the strike. The crowd leaned forward, their breath catching in their throats.
But instead of plunging the blade into his throat, I turned my hand and slammed the heavy gold pommel of the dagger directly into Haremhab’s jaw.
CRACK.
The impact sent him spinning into the sand, spitting out two broken teeth and a mouthful of blood. He lay there, groaning in agony, holding his face.
“Death by the dagger is too honorable for a coward like you,” I said, tossing the weapon onto the ground right in front of his bloody nose. “You wanted to watch a child get torn apart by a monster today to entertain your friends. You wanted the people to laugh at the helpless. So, I will let the gods of Egypt decide your fate, just as you tried to do to me.”
I turned my back on him and looked at the guards near the iron gate. “Open the cage,” I commanded.
The guards looked up at the Pharaoh for confirmation. The Pharaoh slowly nodded his head, his face filled with an expression of immense pride.
The heavy iron chains began to rattle once more. The massive wooden door of the serpent’s cage lifted, and the towering, fanged anaconda slithered out into the blinding sunlight. The beast hissed aggressively, its massive body coiling as it smelled the fresh blood dripping from Haremhab’s jaw.
Haremhab looked at the monster, and a scream of absolute, primal terror tore from his lungs. He tried to scramble backward, clawing at the sand, but there were no guards to protect him now. The Medjay had stepped back, forming a wide perimeter around the arena walls. He was entirely alone with the beast he had chosen for my execution.
“No! Please! Prince Nefiri! Pharaoh! Save me!” Haremhab shrieked, his voice bouncing off the high stone walls as the massive green serpent reared its head back, its fangs dripping with deadly venom, preparing to strike the man who had truly earned its wrath.
I didn’t stay to watch the final strike. I turned away, walking slowly and deliberately up the grand steps toward my uncle, the Pharaoh. As I reached the top, the High Priest stepped forward, placing a heavy, gold medallion shaped like the Eye of Horus around my neck, right over my torn linen rags.
The Pharaoh stood up from his throne, walking over to wrap his arms around me in a warm, fierce embrace. The thousands of people in the stands erupted into a deafening roar of celebration, their voices chanting my royal name over and over again until the very ground trembled.
I looked out over the vast desert kingdom, past the arena walls, toward the glittering waters of the Nile River. My mother had spent her final breaths telling me that the darkness would eventually pass, that the gods never forgot a stolen life. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold and purple, I knew she was finally resting in peace.
The boy from the slums was gone, buried forever in the hot desert sand, and a prince of Egypt had finally returned home.
