Lion Head Mesa stele

ramesses wondered if meadow's flattery was practiced or unknowing. she wrapped her tongue around such words as he would like; she seemed to place them down between he and she, somehow aware and yet he saw nothing malicious in the clear hue of her lovely eyes.
"perhaps after this i could prevail upon you to stay a while longer, and come with me to see how it is made for yourself?" her face filled his eyes, but reyson corrupted his mind. "unless, of course, you must return to your betrothed. i would not keep you from one another."
how had such a brute captured her heart? pharaoh could not help but feel that meadow simply knew no better. she had come from the mountains, and what sort of wild land was kept by a greek mercenary and his flighty wife?
"victorious indeed," he confirmed, shifting but no closer. yet his gaze reached for her own, twining a hot moment and then flicking to the decorations upon the redstone wall above them. "this painting details it." perhaps she might see the wolfish representations as he did; perhaps not. "i had it done not long ago. the young priest-in-training, senmut, is a fine artist as well."
pharaoh watched meadow once more. "am i to believe congratulations are in order? how long your courtship, lady of epoch? akashingo is well-positioned to host the weddings of those allied with our gates."
his rich laugh was easy, but it probed.