Lion Head Mesa Influx

something golden was in the set of jaw and eye; the fellahin become priest become prince, the river-mud of aswan breathed upon by gods-breath — he saw the fecund glimmer for what it was: an answering holiness.

"i will drink with you all night, good prince."

he heard the slight; it was taken, dissolved as parchment clenched in a hidden hand. he had their ruler's trust. rashepses had nothing.

"of her own accord, she remains Divine Wife to the Gods," senmut murmured quietly, reaching for a pair of pleasantly biting berries. "her soul is pious. it was she who ordered that more altars be built this past year. she is kind, above all else; the lowest of the fellahin has her heart and ear, as she cares for their very ka."

"she is daughter to ramesses the second, granddaughter to seti, great-granddaughter of thothmes the bull. bintanath, meritamun, and the Great Royal Wife tuya, only a few of the queens behind her lineage." senmut's voice had taken on a languid, meandering tone, and he took another berry as his body relaxed.

a game.

"tell me of you, prince rashepses. a man of your age might have two wives and a concubine by now. why have you saved yourself?" assumption; dry. senmut knew the antics of his betters.