Hatshepsut was no fool — when the man spoke what underlaid his inquiry, it was clear to her what he sought. Njal would depart soon enough, and in the interim, perhaps those around him thought him untrustworthy. And yet, it was not the Sveijarn who had proven himself thus, but the man of smoke and bated breath.
Shadow. The Egyptian did not believe that was his title, nor would she place stock in anything else he would say. Suspicion had been instilled in her mind at a young age; as Regent, as Pharaoh, she could afford to trust no wolf, for many would hate her for the title she held, as what was between her thighs did not support her claim to a hereditary throne.
"And what right have you to such knowledge?" Hatshepsut rejoined in the same gossamer voice, now baiting the male with a crass writhe of her lips. With no intention of discussing the information Njal had shared, the Regent settled in to toy with the greyscale mouse.
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