Lion Head Mesa Influx

“Yes. As do you, to A’Aru. A prince has a hundred enemies. That day for us may come sooner than we’d like,” his voice was steady, nearly accepting. A Pharaoh’s reign was not often long. If time was fleeting, there was none of it to squander. On trivial rivalries, either. If this man Senmut wanted health for his pack and his Queen, then they were not enemies, regardless of the breeding that substantiated Rashepses’ superiority over the hereditary prince.

“Tell me, Erpa-ha, of your wants for this kingdom, and for yourself,” he inquired. At leisure now with one hunger appeased and worn muscles obliged, he focused only on the refinement of this priest, the pleasing furl of his mouth, and the grace of his posture.