Lion Head Mesa twenty-first

no. he had not seen it, and shock drew him downward into another bow.

senmut had not seen this for he had not wished to see how the transition from daughter to heir to kingkiller to pharaoh had hardened makono, aged her. how she held all the glitter of youth but was limned now in the mien of Sobek's own cold scales.

fear and admiration raced ice through his veins, mingling and warming into the fire which propelled his loyalty to her and always had.

"i would have suggested you end her as well, had your love for her not been so great."

let pharaoh see too that senmut carried iron inside him, a steel furnace that burned to do her bidding. a mother to bastard princes might raise them one day against the throne.

"a sleeping draught, when the time comes. she will remember little. and your will shall be done, great one."

now senmut was silent, aching in a sheer agony for nazli, for the pain she bore and must still bear, all by the status of her low birth.