Lion Head Mesa For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

He knew?

Of course he knew. They must all have known; this secret that wasn't a secret, except to Nazli. For she who worked herself to near-death, and worried over silly things like preparing meals, and the state of the rooms, and which color appealed to which piece of divinity among them; but this was kept from her and Nazli was aghast.

Was she not trusted, then?

Makono - did she trust her, truly? Was that a lie as well? Perhaps the princess did not know of this; but she was divine! She knew of things Nazli had no hope of ever learning!

But you do not have to stay and serve in such a way, Nazli, Senmut was speaking upon it as if he understood. When had he been given such a warning? Had he been trained in this? He was a priest! He was not permitted. Too precious, too holy. Nazli was neither. She was starting to think of herself as disgusting.

He had once spoken of marriage.

Nazli's mind reeled at the memory of it.

Your mistress . . . she cares for you . . . That rising pitch of static in her ears came, blocking out some of what Senmut was saying. For a moment all Nazli could hear was the sharp whine of the tinnitus inside her head. She saw the way he searched her face.

I do what is asked of me. I do all that is asked! She hates the probing manner of his gaze, or maybe that he looks upon her now at all, she cannot decide what is to be hated, only that for an instant it is there and it is a vitriolic, potent thing. Is that why you spoke to me of marriage?

Do you see me as something that needs to be kept? Am I some prize like Makono says, or -- am I a thing to be given away, a prize to someone like, like you for -- good and loyal service? Her eyes are shining and black and full of tears she refuses to spill. Her skin feels too tight. Nazli hadn't meant to, but she'd stopped working at the task he'd given her and had stepped back as if horrified by it all.