Lion Head Mesa Whoever lets himself be led by the heart will never lose his way.

She inclines her head, waiting first for the Sphinx to turn before stepping in beside him, struck by his height and the width of his shoulders in so narrow a space as the servant quarters. As they ascend the tapering passageways and out into the main concourse she settles her nerves with a look to his dignified profile.

“Have you been enjoying the Rose Poinciana, my Lord?” She asks of the red blooms which had been plucked off the mesa and gathered into arrangements for the Prince’s bedside.