Pharaoh’s Pet [BL]

Chapter Eighteen: The Cage of Gold and Ash (Part 6)

The chains rattled as Nofri-it was led forward, his wrists bound in gold but weighed with iron. The steps to the grand dais loomed before him like the entrance to a tomb, the marble floor polished to a mirror's gleam beneath his bare feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if unseen hands clawed at him, dragging him back to the abyss of Cairo's dungeons.

He had been trapped before. Left to rot in the dark, his body wasting away, his name all but erased. But this—this was worse.

This was a spectacle.

Azech-I did not look at him as the guards led him past the gathered nobles, who whispered behind jeweled hands, their eyes gleaming with cruel fascination. The mighty Nofri-it, once a ghost in the shadows, a whisper of death in Cairo's court—now a prisoner wrapped in silk and chains, presented like a treasure before the man he once sought to kill.

A throne of black obsidian loomed at the top of the dais, its edges carved with hieroglyphs of power and conquest. And upon it, Azech-I sat, draped in robes of midnight and gold, his golden eyes half-lidded with something unreadable.

"Place him," Azech-I commanded lazily.

Nofri-it had little time to react before rough hands forced him to his knees before the throne. The cold touch of chains wrapped around his ankles, securing him to the base of the dais. His breath came quick and shallow.

Azech-I let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down on Nofri-it's already trembling form. Then, with slow deliberation, he leaned forward, resting his chin against his knuckles.

"I wonder," he mused, "what Cairo would say if he could see you like this."

Nofri-it's jaw clenched.

Azech-I chuckled, the sound rich and sharp as a blade. "Ah, but we must not forget, must we?" His fingers idly traced the armrest of his throne. "You were once his most prized weapon. And yet, when you failed, he did not hesitate to discard you."

The words should have had no effect. Nofri-it had known this truth for years. Had lived it, suffered it.

And yet, the way Azech-I spoke it, the way he reduced him to nothing more than a failed tool—it burned.

The chains clinked softly as Nofri-it shifted. "Is this what you wanted?" His voice was hoarse, but steady. "To see me kneel? To break me before your court?"

Azech-I tilted his head. "Break you?" A slow smile spread across his lips. "No, Nofri-it. That would be too easy."

He lifted a hand, and a servant approached, bearing a tray of ripe fruit, their scent rich and intoxicating. Azech-I plucked a fig between his fingers, rolling it idly.

"I intend to keep you," he said, voice smooth as silk, "until you break yourself."

The fig split between his fingers, dark red juices staining his golden skin.

Nofri-it's breath hitched.

Azech-I's golden gaze flickered to him, sharp and knowing. "Shall we begin?"

To Be Continued...