Lion Head Mesa Days fade into a watercolor blur

The priest rose, but it was unhappily.

The princess, the unruly girl, she threatened tradition in every way imaginable. He had never subscribed to the rigid gender of royalty, but even he knew that to do this was to scour the court and the other royals.

This was not even to mention the newest children. What of them, when they grew? Would Makono decorate the steps of the palace with their blood as she had the horse? Leave them strewn on the floor in her childish bid for a power she believed she understood?

Foolish.

He respected it.

Akhtar was organizing his things when the fellahin girl woke. He offered her a thin, reedy hum.

You are awake. He spoke, voice guttural with alcohol and his own hangover.

Did you sleep well?