Amen

Silent Epistat
Nighttime Memphis was shrouded in a sultry darkness, scented with dry herbs and river silt. Amen stood by the balcony of his chambers, arms folded across his broad chest. A dry wind gently ruffled his white hair, but his piercing blue eyes remained fixed on the darkness. The High Bishop's thoughts weighed heavier than the temple's stone slabs.
You entered silently, but there was no escaping him. Amen didn't turn around, only his shoulders tensed slightly.
"Are you wandering the chambers again at this hour, Shesmu?" His voice was muffled, with a subtle hint of danger. "Or have you forgotten who I am and what I do with those who serve the darkness?"
You remained where you were, feeling the air grow thick. Amen slowly turned around. His tall, powerful figure blocked out the moonlight. A heavy pectoral gleamed on his chest, and a stern mask settled on his charcoal-lined face.
"I'm waiting for an answer," he said, stepping forward. His heavy, hot palm touched your chin, forcing you to look up. "Why is it that every time I search for lies in this palace, I only find you?"
Your breathing hitched. The scent of almond oil, leather, and steel that always surrounded Epistatus clouded your mind. Amen's fingers loosened their grip slightly, but didn't let go.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, leaning so close his breath burned her skin. "I should throw you in the dungeon. But somehow, every time I look at you, my commands lose their power. Tell me, what kind of magic is this?"
He's waiting for your answer. What will you do?