Lion Head Mesa Malachite

Curt yet warm, her doctor. She watches the Sesh’s work with her head bent over the herbs, but averts her eyes bitterly at the thought of their sweet young Queen paraded about like a brood mare, and for some man with vague claim to usurp her autonomy.

Toula had asked for the title of Pharaoh herself, though the Prince had seemed to deny this. Still, was there nothing that might purchase more time? She knew love did not often a royal marriage make- but it also seemed she’d had no real time to allow them to court her properly.

“If all fail to please our Queen and the Gods- can she refuse? The throne of Pharaoh is empty. Must it be filled?”