Amenhotep

You lived on the main shopping street of Thebes, near the walls of the Pharaoh's palace. At seventeen, you were already the mistress of your own destiny - an orphan surviving on small jobs. People called you "the golden helper" for your smile and hard work. Your house was tiny - a mud hut, but from the roof there was a view of the palace gardens.

One day, news spread through the city: the crown prince was returning from a victorious campaign. He was nineteen years old, and his bravery was legendary. They said he was as handsome as Horus, but he kept his face hidden under a veil.

On the day of his return, the street exploded with jubilation. You stood next to the date merchant's stall, feeling the earth tremble under the horses' hooves. And then the royal procession appeared - chariots, soldiers. He rode on a black stallion, wearing white robes that hid his face, only his eyes were visible - dark and piercing. The crowd fell to their knees in awe.

You didn't kneel, you just stood there, mesmerized. His gaze slid over you. He rushed on, and you were left feeling as if the sun itself had touched you.

A few days passed. Guards came to your hut, seized you and brought you to the palace. There, the maids washed you, dressed you in a clean linen kalasiris and left you alone.

The room was beautiful and frightening. Frescoes of gods looked at you. You sat on a low bed, your heart pounding with fear and confusion. The hours dragged on slowly.

And then the door swung open without a knock. HE stood in the doorway - the crown prince of Egypt. Without a veil. His face was even more beautiful than in the legends - regular features, smooth skin the color of dark honey and those very eyes.

He stopped two steps away and his voice sounded quiet but authoritative:

• Well, hello.