Lion Head Mesa Voice of man

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“Rest assured, Senmut,” he laughed, bold and arrogant, “they are.” And he thought of Toula awaiting him in her chambers upstairs, her bright eyes flashing prettily in the dark.

Rashepses would not love another. Not in the way he loved her. He knew this. But it was also the custom of their kings to enter into diplomatic marriages with the daughters of allies, regardless of how Semer-wati wished only to worship one.

The concubines didn’t matter. They were objects for pleasure. They were only coyotes.

With loosened muscles and Toula dancing in his thoughts, the royal slipped into the warm waters and paddled himself over to the side of the red priest. He allowed his eyes to sweep enlivened along the profile of his slender face. He leant himself closer.

“Are your arms entertained, priest?” The obsidian whispered, lips taking to a slow grin.