Laila stumbled away from Amunet, her pulse hammering in her throat. He had let her go. Not because he saw reason. Not because she had won. Because he hated her.
She saw it in his dark, seething eyes, the way his lip curled as if the very sight of her disgusted him.
"Get out of my sight," he had snarled, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his sword as if restraining himself from running it through her.
The rebels had watched the entire exchange, their expressions ranging from amusement to thinly veiled disappointment.
They had wanted him to kill her.
And some of them, she knew, still might.
She walked away with her head high, refusing to let them see her shaken.
But she felt it. The hate. The loathing. The silent promise in Amunet's gaze.
If she stayed here long enough, he would find a way to destroy her.
She pushed through the camp, ignoring the lingering stares as she reached her tent, the only place in this wretched camp where she could be alone.
Except—she wasn't.
The tent was quiet.
Too quiet.
Laila barely stepped inside before she noticed Hagar's face—tight, unreadable. She stood near the table, her hands clutching a sealed scroll so tightly that her knuckles had gone pale against the parchment.
"What is it?" Laila asked, already sensing something was wrong.
Hagar hesitated.
"I waited for the right moment," she said softly. "Your father gave me this before we left the palace. I guarded it with my life."
Laila's pulse thrummed sharp and uneven as she took the letter.
The Pharaoh's seal was unbroken. The wax was smooth beneath her fingertips, pressed with the mark of the royal house.
Slowly, deliberately, she broke it. The parchment unfurled, the scent of ink and the palace's sacred oils still lingering in its fibers. Her father's handwriting was steady, sharp.
There was no hesitation. No softness.
Laila, my flower,
The war must end, and you are the only one who can end it.
Marry one of them. Do not hesitate. Do not waver.
And on the night of your wedding, kill him.
Strike when he is weak. When his guard is down. Make it clean. Make it final.
This is the only way.
Do this, and Egypt will be saved.
I trust you, as I always have.
You will do what is necessary.
I love you, flower.
Laila's stomach twisted. The words blurred, but not from tears. The blood in her veins ran cold. She had thought her father sent her to save Egypt. But he had sent her to die for it.