Lion Head Mesa the heart

Inji eagerly lends a listening ear. All the details, the ways in which the princes have charmed her, even if some had met with her only briefly, and she nods assuredly.
So Thutmose had begun to court her properly — grand gestures and the like, and briefly, Inji wondered what that would feel like. To be dated, to be cherished; but that was not the life of a fellahin. And Senmut, the erpa-ha; he, too, had written. Whispers had come about that he was also to be considered by the Queen, but never before had she heard it so blatantly.
Well, her chin juts out as her teeth run across her lower lip; the altar of Goddess Sekhmet now at their feet, and Inji silently heeds the unfinished state as well as the strange pile of dirt just adjacent to it. I met Thutmose. He was nice, I think, did Naberius count? She supposed, perhaps, he did not, and so he went unmentioned — the Queen would surely not want to hear what happened between them, anyways. but what matters the most is how you feel around them, Divine One. How well they treat you.