Two Eyes Cenote spur & point

"every boy says his prayers," khusobek growled. he did not understand why he found sport in rousing her, only that the fervent light in her eyes struck a long-dead chord in him. the taste of life, of work in good companionship.

which he stood to lose if he continued, but he could not help the pressing. he loathed priests; he did not intend to bow to one.

yet for now khusobek spared zaahira, more interested in whatever of the gods her priestly little heart meant to utter. "every guard has his patron." how could she be so convinced of a man's failings?