Two Eyes Cenote Woven Road

Their prince was distracted. He reclined on the provisional feasting couch in the company of his nomarch, a paw traced absently along the cream-tipped tail of fox about Mesen-Ka’s neck. Soft. Toula.

She existed there on his wrist- and on his mind. He was only half listening to his men and his turn to face them was delayed.

“Siatum hungers only for palace finery,” he comments, one half of his mouth lifting to show teeth and grabbing at a limp hare, though he does not bite into it.

“I will seek out the Queen tomorrow at sunset. See that I am given a moment alone with her,” he ordered. The guards would know their task is to occupy hovering mazoi, or the ladies maids who desire to pry into their courtship.