Lion Head Mesa gilded breath

Sabah’s suspicions rolled in her stomach like an eldritch sea. She wanted so many things in that moment. To run, perhaps. To sprint into the horizon and vanish from sight and mind, never to be seen here again. To watch Ramesses’s fur saturate with red blood, staining that royal facade forever more, face bedecked in a death snarl. To laugh, and laugh, and laugh like she had never laughed before, high and wild and crackling mightily in the Mesa so that in the dark corners where Pharaoh took his concubines, the sound might still echo there.

Instead of any of those things, she simply stared at Ramesses for a while, before nodding.

I can do that. Queens-guard had no reason to deny the throne.

Would you like to discuss anything else?