Rosewater Oasis the sands of time

Her defiance amused him. He could see it in the jut of her chin, the flicker of challenge in her chartreuse gaze—a fire that she dared to wield before him.

Such women had their uses. Their disobedience could be tempered, sharpened, turned into something productive if they were willing to fall in line. If not, well… the sands of the desert were no stranger to the forgotten bones of the foolish.

He loomed there at the water’s edge, a king in his domain, the reflection of gold and black shimmering in the pool beside her.

“I am Pharaoh Samirseti,” he answered, voice a silken purr, regal and laced with venom. “And Vahanet is mine. Its waters, its sands, its people.”

A pause. Then, the faintest tilt of his head, the barest spark of intrigue glittering in his gilded eyes. A brow lifted. “What is your name, traveler?”