Lion Head Mesa Sessho-seki

siptah was with him more often each week. pharaoh found himself rising earlier with an anticipation he would not admit, to walk the halls upward with his son and heir, to meet akhtar there for the rites which welcomed the sun god.
satsu had not come this morning. ramesses had thought it would be a lovely portrait: pharaoh and queen and prince, strolling the red land outside the palace, ever-attended by dutiful servants.
it seemed no longer had he sent a coyote to find her that the poor thing skidded back to him, eyes wide and throat almost stoppered by a scream; that the royal lady was dead and there was no sense of who had done it.
ramesses stared hard at the fellahin and then he was running, racing, upwards toward the open-air throne room and —
"satsu?" his voice, garbled, gone to nothing; he crouched over her and found his heart pounding in head. pharaoh's gaze searched round for any sign. if siptah had followed, he did not know it. ramesses cried out a great and mournful cry that carried through all parts of akashingo.