Lion Head Mesa taken care of

When the strangers came, Nazli did not see them. It wasn't until Kiaxe reacted that she took notice and was warring with herself about what to do; she had wanted to seek them out upon the steps and ask them about many things, but Kiaxe and then Gilthyra rose against her—and in the end, she was ushered inside the palace.

It was better for everyone involved that this reunion take its time. Kiaxe wanted to tear down the hillside and stand at Gil's aid, but she had to attend to Nazli. Nazli however, was too tired and weak to do much. It was time for her to sleep, and so she went to their prepared room and rested there.

Days passed and Kiaxe did not leave her side. Occasionally Jawahir would pop by the doorway to leave food or medicine as instructed, and then scurry off. All the while, Nazli pined for answers. She feigned sleep again to give Kiaxe the impression that they were not needed, and when the guard slipped away to relieve herself, sleep, or hunt—all necessary things that the warrior had put off thus far—Nazli could breathe a little easier.

She gathered all of her strength and chose that moment to sneak out of the room, then down the hall.

the lavender girl very nearly collided with khusobek, cutting the crocodile's saunter with a hard arch of his brow.

"what are you running from?" he teased, flicking his icewater stare beyond her shoulder, to see if a shadow had followed her out into the corridor.

she was finely made and somehow shielded. was this some lesser princess, kept from the festivities of nobler family? he tested this with an order: "i want wine brought to the borders along the serpent."

Oh!

His figure was red and black in the shadow of the corridor, like the sand retreating under night. He had the sky caught in his gaze and when her eyes widened, she caught them—and the toothy smile.

I—I—...! he croaked an order!

Yes, when—Kiaxe, she returns, I will send her. The woman stumbled over her words and felt disorientation flood over her. Her vision fuzzed, and it felt as though her spirit extended from the top of her head to roll like a great cloud forward and down, while her feet felt firmly planted.

She was not truly moving, but somehow the world rolled and she swayed back, and down, and her eyes went half-lidded. ...oh,

unthinking, khusobek caught her against one hard forearm, and if she lolled for a small moment, he would take notice of things he had not before: the coyote cast, the way she was a perfect comingling of each, appearing wolven in one moment and feral in another.

but she was weak, and firmly the crocodile steered her back the way she had come, into the room. "that crisp old woman seemed as though she would take my hide if anything happened to the girl she was guarding. nazli," he remembered, a grin curling his face.

He helped her immediately. Ushering her in to the room again, where she sank upon the furs there, sighing, reluctantly thankful that she had not made it far in her wandering after all.

When she heard her name spoken she gave another sigh; as much as she appreciated Gil and her work, there was a certain... rebellion sparked at the reminder of the doctor's necessity.

Yes, well, she knows best. A few moments to breathe, to let the vertigo settle and the rest of her to come back to some sort of cohesion again, and she looked to the man — the first she'd seen in a month, at least.

Where—where is everyone? Tavina, Senmut, Toula, surely they were alright?

"in the desert." nazli looked well enough, and so he pulled away and took up a post nearer the doorway.

"our queen wants a coronation palace. we obey." he had not taken his eyes from her own. they were obsidian pools, lambent with some inner fire unquenched by her current physical state.

"they are having a fine time. drinking. rabble-rousing. engaging in their endless foolish politics."

he gestured at her, sensing less esteem in her rank than he had originally thought, and growing comfortable. "why are you ill?"

It was good news. They had not been chased from the land but they had gone freely, and it was in Toula's interest. Nazli was glad to hear these things and relaxed considerably; of course this meant Gil had been correct, again.

I do not know the words for it, exactly, began Nazli in regard to her condition: but from what I understand... It is a complication of my starvation, and something older, deeper. She did not like to think of all the things she used to do but could no longer, and much time and conversation had been wasted coming to terms with it as she had spoken with other women of the healing collective; these things Nazli would not share.

The stress of my life has been too much for my body. I... think of it as, my spirit is weakened. If I do too much then I lose some piece of it. And so she was considerably limited—likely useless as a fellahin, but she dared not speak that in to being.

Her jaw set tightly for a moment, and her eyes dropped from his own, to watch the earth. Please, do not... tell anyone. I fear they will not welcome me back— but she muted herself and shrank.

"who would turn you away and who would i tell?" khusobek scoffed, though his scorn was lightly said, and not true to its sound. he was curious more than anything now of her origins. who had let her starve? who had let her remain ill?

or rather, shut away with this illness? surely she needed light and air. the crocodile was not a physician, but languishing in a palace could not be easy upon a restless mind.

"were you a servant before?" he asked from his place along the wall, guessing, assuming.

Yes. An immesurable pride flooded that single word. She sat up a touch straighter.

Then my friend Khaba left, and I went with him. I did not think it would be so... destructive. I made my way back—I even hunted for myself as best I could, she was proud of her efforts even if they hadn't helped her much in the long-run. And then I worked with Tavina for a time. When she could not help me, she sent me to Gil.

And back again, to this place of dust and shadows. Echoes in the halls. Stagnant air, and worry.

proud? of servitude? khusobek considered the general satisfaction of the servants. he firmly believed it was because they attended a queen and not a pharaoh, a man who would demand more of them.

in truth, he did not wish to see them so shaken. but blood demanded blood and godhood demanded godly heirs.

"khaba, the traitor. that means you committed treason and were still allowed to return." the icewater eyes searched her own. "someone must care for you indeed."

Where once she might have defended Khaba, now Nazli would not. She knew she had done wrong by following him. That she had been confused, subservient, and afraid; that he had been punished, and she had been punished, though they were different. He was a prisoner for a time while she had punished herself—and has lasting illness as a result.

The comment from Khusobek after that made her smile thinly, knowing also that she was deeply fortunate.

I had hoped to return to my work. I do not think Gil will let me, though. Between her and Tavina, I fear I have made myself obsolete because of my choices. What else could she do now? She would wait and heal, mind the palace, and once Toula's coronation ended she would have to figure things out. Until then, she would haunt these halls.

"then choose another role." at last khusobek pushed away from the redrock wall, sauntering toward nazli. he took in the detailing of this room, of the fur quality upon which she lay, but did not come near to her sleeping-couch.

"if you cannot return to your work, then do not allow yourself to become obsolete. find another way to serve." this time the sliver of ice-eyes squinted by a grin glinted toward nazli over the hard curve of his red shoulder. "i was soldier. i was queensguard. now i am mazoi." a pause. "servants exist to adjust at the pleasure of their betters."

Yes, of course, there were options. She need not choose the most dire of them and be so presumptuous as to think she was trapped in any way; Nazli had already grown from servant girl to gardener, to an acolyte of sorts beneath Tavina. If she could not do those things—or really anything physical which might wear down what limited reserves she would forever be relegated to—then that only left her mind, her heart, her spirit.

If she could not serve in the old ways, she would find a new way. A smile drew across her face then—slow to dawn, but so warm. Nazli looked upon the mazoi as if they were old friends.

I could learn from Akhtar, if he would permit me. Or... Senmut, she hurried to tack on his name, and felt a thrill that made her skin feel too snug. If I can not do the physical tasks then I will find another way to serve. It is all I want.

the grin that lit the wan and pretty face reflected again the unfed fire inside the lilac attendant. coyote-blood she might be, but her bearing and careful words suggested a training that had come from nobility.

he was now even more intrigued about nazli, this lovely wisp who did not seem to belong to any man, who looked now toward khusobek with a new friendliness and spoke of a future that lacked any visible ambition.

senmut. akhtar. she knew the priests, and silently again he tried to discover her previous role. "there is a priestess among them now, a woman named melody. she serves the returned princess." and here he watched his test unfold in the sloe-eyes.

He probed with a name, not that Nazli would have noticed. She ruminated over that a moment and her brightness did not diminish; the name was familiar, in a vague sense. Oh, yes, I think I met her—.

Oh, but—what caught more in her ears was his mention of a princess, returned. Makono? At once the warmth that she carried was replaced with surprise, and this transitioned hastily in to a well-steeped hope! Breathless, for that moment. Please, tell me she's come home!

"ashikaga, the sister." now here was something which interested khusobek.

the crocodile now stepped toward nazli with a direct step; he crouched before her couch as if he were only an animal, an inanimate beast; save for the flat gleam of his eyes raised up toward her own.

"how did you serve the pharaoh makono?"

Ashikaga...?
The name might have been familiar but it did not evoke the same connection, and immediately Nazli's countenance dropped, darkening. A heartbroken aspect lending shadow to the sunken nature of her face.
She did not take offense to the advancement of the mazoi, if she even noticed.
I—we, were, are, friends. She's... Like my sister. And her heart swelled at the thought! Her tongue wagging without consideration to how this might be perceived, or if it might be offensive. A fellahin and a princess could be nothing more than servant and served, in the end.

a servant girl. a royal daughter. raised together. he had seen it done many times, binding a fellahin almost at birth to a divinely-blooded child around the same age. this ensured a lifetime of complete loyalty to a princess, for example, and he could see it in nazli now, that strident devotion.

his eyes watched her lavender face in the darkness, beautiful. stricken. what had befallen her? she had been ill and that pharaoh was no longer here. 

shadows pooled in the angularity of a thin face. "when the prince and queen know you are here, you will be summoned."