Naaghai Lowlands [m] Bitis

good meat in his belly, the drink turning veins to fire. khusobek, who had left the next rotation outside the queen's chamber to another guard, now lay in spinning pleasantry upon a rough-hewn floor.

eset's voice reached for him, through the stupor, the flesh-buzzing, the tiny knifing to imagine inji and rashepses together: a gift and a pharaoh. had he ever wanted that?

his eyes were open now, blinking toward the servant's pointed face. there was no fatal urgency that might indicate the queen was in danger, though khusobek came to his feet all the same. 

was there a new shade to the gaze above the collarless throat? the crocodile was still, waiting for what he did not understand, for her voice in a way had been its own order.