She is merely a pupil to gods of past and present, the titles of which still remain foreign to Zaahira. Apopis, patron saint of chaos — how one she had not yet heard. But the Queen speaks of His wrath within her dreams, and with this, Zaahira is frightened.
Even when you think you have found peace, hardship is waiting at your doorstep.
She is gentle, and yet holds power in every word. I will pray with you, Divine One, and that is a vow.
She notices the fellahin nod; heeding.
I am okay, a light shrug is given. I have been... what is the word? Falling. It is unusual. but even still, she did not elaborate; the Queen had enough to worry about. She takes a step closer, head dipping to bow. How are you feeling, malakti?

When the Queen speaks of the Gods, it is an honor. Zaahira accepts the fervor with a curled smile. I hope so.
She is invited forth, and the aspwoman cautiously leans closer with a ginger press of a bony shoulder into the gold-woven pelt of the holy one. I am eager to learn more of our Gods, malakti. I do not seek priesthood, but even still, she pauses, heavily. they mean much to me. I am grateful to learn beside you.
She walks in a slow stride, gaze carefully fixed upon the path ahead. Left, right, left, right. And then, a question; and to this, she gives a chortle.
It is Arabic, my mother's language. I do not remember much of it, but there is some. I did not speak at all for a long time. ochre cheeks are pushed upward as her bashful little grin snakes further up her face. Malakti means My Queen. Think of it as my own word of devotion.

She will be taught of them. The Godheads of Akashingo, their stories, their power; all from the Wife herself, and oh, what an blessing! Senmut has told me of Sekhmet, Goddess of War. I have been building an altar for Her near Raven's bed, pride oozes through her speech. and I keep my regular visits to God Osiris. He has brought me healing. But I have much more to learn about many others.
And oh, how sweet the Queen to want to know more of Zaahira's eastland tongue! Her eyes glitter, big and wide and round, an almost girlish excitement running up and down her spine. I would love that, and her tail flutters, coming to an unbridled wag that presses at her heels. I was fluent once, when I was a girl. But that feels long ago now.
Her tongue presses at her lips, flicking over her teeth and now her nose. Her pace remains steady. I did want to ask you of something, and then, her ears bend, one a hair lower than the other. It felt like such an imbecilic, naïve question; but as it stood, there was still much for Zaahira to learn about the red palace. how does one become yaret, or jodai? a breath is drawn, and then a shimmy of her shoulders to release the tension in them. I thought of one day taking that position, if you would have me.

The Queen had prayed to Sekhmet, and with that revelation, Zaahira thinks that perhaps it was Her who brought victory to Akashingo over the lake. Her mind wanders over to Zharille, the fallen Alpha, her children; while her children remained, Zharille seemed to have taken off once more. Her scent among the halls dwindled by the day, nothing but the dotted outline of the giantess's ghost, and it brought a small twitch to the corner of a tawny lip. But her concerns with that would not be voiced. The Queen took care of the children, to her knowledge, and that was what mattered.
And, there was to be not one, but two altars for the Goddess. And perhaps that was what was needed.
A secret language between them. The thought of such brought a gleeful series of chortles from the mazoi; something that, these days, felt so rare, so precious. Something she had not shared with anyone in what must have been years.
What a friend she'd found in this amazing young Queen; a bitter, guarded heart, softened only for her.
I would do whatever you ask, and that was genuine, an outpour of devotion, for Zaahira could think of no greater honor than to serve as jodai for her; warm eyes held softly with Toula's own. it is my life's duty to guard you, malakti. To serve Akashingo. for she was a woman of Greatwater no more, not ever again.

So Zharille was not missing; merely elsewhere. This brought some semblance of relief, a slow sigh breathed out. I am glad she is in good hands, and that was all of what she felt. Zharille meant little to her in the way of a friend or a leader — she had not known her, not beyond exchanged glances. Her time as the leader of Greatwater was before Zaahira had ever set foot upon the land.
And she sought to shred any lingering association of Greatwater, the last of the threads to be pulled. Never again.
The Lake took her dedication for granted; her fervor, her religious loyalty; and Akashingo had scooped her under its wing. The sands whispered hymns and mantras in her dreams, called her home, and never would she leave them unless the Gods bid the palace's death.
Rebirthed, baptized under the vigilance of Ra;
She was to be jodai.
The very notion of such brought a spring of tears into her eyes as the Queen lays down the procedure to be carried out. Overwhelmed; excitement, fear, ambition, honor, gratitude, everything; and she thought, in that moment, of just how far she had come.
You have done so much for me, Divine One, at some point, she had come to a stop and taken one of the Queen's blond paws between the two of her own, if she were to accept such a gesture. I will not let you down. as a ruler; as a friend.

Tears bead slowly down the length of narrow cheekbones. She trusted her; she trusted her, and to serve as high warrior to a woman who showed her such grace and fervent love — a privilege it was, indeed!
Khonsu would be with her, and she would look to Him nightly in the weeks to come. She would find Him among the constellations and the craters of the moon, and He, in turn, would show her the bright eyes of hemet-nekheb in her absence.
The most delicate of squeezes is given to the paw within her grasp. And may Ra watch over you while I am away.
And in time, she would be at her side in coronation; in godhood, and ever happily would she bow.