Lion Head Mesa crook & flail

what could zaahira want with his sense of loneliness?

now a half-dozen images of hatshepsuun inundated the mind of khusobek, in those chambers where he had not been a guard and she no pharaoh, only two individuals who found something to answer in the other. "most of us are foreign. but we are akashingo also."

a tensing chased itself across his muscular shoulders. "pharaoh is invested in assuring an heir is born. it bodes better things for her when it is time to journey for the Land of Reeds."

loneliness. khusobek fought the question silently until the quiet stretched too long and called for a reply. "no. i have my work. unless you are asking if my bed is empty and i wish for it to be filled." 

now, a smile, or something that wished to be, slitting the dour line of his mouth into something toothy as he glanced at last toward zaahira. "are you?"