Lion Head Mesa akhet

little by little, pharaoh relented. gucci spun a world beyond his whims, and slowly he released the image of delicate, green-eyed lilitu. she was such an ornamentation as he would want on his arm, but she did not care for the palace.
mermaids. blackwater. witches. "a woman from the islands once came to me," ramesses said with a tone that remembered. "she never said the name of her land, i do not believe. only that they were druids who lived a solitary life. she offered trade terms and arrived as emissary. we spoke for a long while."
his teeth flashed in a grin of elegant lechery. "the lady marina was wild in my bedchamber as the sea from which she hailed." he recalled the scorch of her, the way she had given voice to her pleasure and he to his. "i sent the beautiful belen with her, to be used in whatever way the druids saw fit."
pharaoh sighed. "a waste to hear that they are gone. and where is belen? gone also, a trained courtesan." 
he wondered, pointedly and suddenly, what stirred his companion. gucci spoke easily of women rich and bountiful as grapes, but never of his tastes. 
he smiled. "perhaps i should send you next, vizier, to find a Second Great Royal Wife. you have the mind for such a choice." he toyed with a small red stone.