His home?
This small mud‑brick shelter… was his home?
"You live here?" she asked, blinking at the cramped single room. It was smaller than her bathing chambers back at the palace—far smaller. And yet it was strangely warm, lived‑in, almost… safe.
"I do," he said simply, already moving through the shadows of the tiny space as though the walls bent to him.
Then, with a quick, teasing glance over his shoulder,
"Make yourself comfortable, Princess."
Princess.
So he did know who she was.
Her stomach tightened with panic, her pulse stumbling. If he knew, then why bring her here? Why hide her?
"Umm… why are we here?" she whispered, eyeing the lone straw mattress pushed neatly against the far corner.
Everything was simple—mud walls, a clay pot, a single window—yet impossibly tidy. Not a speck of dust, not a single thing out of place.
He disappeared behind a low curtain.
For a brief, terrifying moment, she feared he was leaving her.
But he returned with a wooden mug of milk and a small piece of bread
She accepted the warm mug, but gently pushed the bread away. It looked like it might crack a tooth.
His lips curved—not quite a smile, but the closest thing she had seen on him.
"Believe it or not," he said lightly, "I'm in hiding."
It was the first time his voice didn't sound like a weapon. Here, inside these walls, the hard edges softened. He looked almost human. Handsome, even. Tired. But real.
"So that makes two of us," she murmured, sipping the honey-sweet milk. It warmed her tongue… and something deeper.
He lowered himself to sit at the small round table—on the floor. He tapped the empty spot beside him.
She reluctantly followed.
No cushions.
No comfort.
Of course.
"Thank you," she said quietly, placing the mug on the worn wooden surface.
He studied her with that same piercing calm that made her shoulders stiffen.
"So…" she started, struggling for confidence. "Why did you bring me here? Are you going to turn me in? Or am I supposed to trust you?"
He leaned forward, propping his head on his hand, raising one dark brow.
"If I wanted to betray you, Princess, I would have waved the soldiers over instead of dragging you through half the river."
His voice was deep—dark as the Nile at night—but there was an unexpected sweetness in the way the words rolled from him.
She swallowed. Hard.
"…Good point," she muttered, trying to emulate the generals she'd seen around her uncle. It came out less authoritative than she hoped.
"Then why are we here?" she pressed, unable to escape his gaze. He didn't look away—ever. It was infuriating. And disarming.
He straightened, all softness gone.
"Because we can strike a deal."
"A deal?" she echoed, heart speeding.
"I can protect you," he said, "and you can help me, Raymun."
Her name on his tongue startled her.
Smooth. Familiar. Almost intimate.
"So you know my name."
"I know many things," he said, running a hand through his long black hair. "Your name is the least interesting among them ."
Her breath caught somewhere between offence and… something else.
"Then why would you protect me? What exactly do you want in return?"
Her eyes flicked to the small mattress in the corner.
No. Surely not.
He laughed—a low, warm sound that made heat crawl up her neck.
"Relax." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "It's nothing like the thoughts racing through that wild head of yours."
She flushed.
She never flushed.
"Alright…" she still didn't know his namename.
She glared, but he only leaned back, unbothered, annoyingly charming.
"How can I be of help to you?" she asked finally.
"You've already helped," he said, almost too softly. "You just don't realize how much yet."
His tone shifted—firm, almost scolding.
"And jumping into the river wasn't part of my plan. Or yours. Not the cleverest move."
She bristled. He was right, but still.
"I planned to survive," she said, chin lifting. "And I did."
A genuine smile—small but real—tugged at his mouth.
"Yes. You did." He grew quiet. The air thickened.
Then—
"You planned to survive," he said slowly, "and I plan to make you the last Nile Bride."
The words hit her like a stone dropped in deep water.
His eyes never left hers.
He was deadly serious.
And terrifyingly certain.