Luneshale Pass Cerastes

And they had different reasons to fear Rashepses and what his reign would be capable of; she knew this.
Eset, a fellahin. A servant. She had no power, no say; if he commands, she must answer; give her body to whoever he says she must. She is the gunk under his proverbial shoe, and Zaahira knew it in the way he looked to that innocent desertland wide-faced girl.
Zaahira, too, would have a body no longer hers, but in pearls of crimson and not white. A queensguard, a soldier of the highest power; and even still, his words growl in her mind like a lick of thunder. You will bow to me.
I trust her, yes, her throat closes and she forces her voice to roll and clear, eyes brimmed with glass. but what if he uses her? Tricks her? She is young, Eset. Blind to the true malice of the world. When we went to war with Greatwater, she sought no bloodshed and I am still amazed it was possible with a man like Khaba was. Her eyes narrow as her brows knit her face. And what if he takes us by force if she chooses Senmut? I fear we do not have enough mazoi to fight his men. I do not know if it is worse to let him in and bear it, or to fight him with what we have.
One paw slinks outward, skirting the sand in search of Eset's; ash against fire. I would die for our Queen, Eset. I would die to protect us. You.