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The Pharaoh’s Daughter
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The end.