Lion Head Mesa [m] Sidewinder

The Prince joins her. Wine is poured into a shallow bowl and set to his right, then she lowers herself into a sit before him. She smiles, looking across at him, closely watching his eyes and the tempered question flaring there.

“It is. I regret we have not met sooner, my neb,” though she has watched the prince of sun and sand sands vaunt himself about the palace grounds. “Is everything to your liking here, Lord Naberius? Your meals, and your chamber?” She questions sweetly, lifting idly her paw to trace a finger across the dome of one red pawn.

She begins assembling the pieces upon the low table. For Naberius: white, and for herself: red.