Luneshale Pass Night poem

It wasn’t just that she came for the throne.

Many had. The three princes jockeyed for it, devolving what would be a proper courtship into a game of forcing hands, softly cloying words and gifted goats. A fourth raised from the sands tomorrow would hardly warrant a second glance; toss him into the crucible, it would scarcely a splatter make.

But this was no farflung royal, this was Toula’s sister. Her own blood, who upon resurrection had demanded not to see her mother, or father, or siblings- only for absolute monarchy.

And as the evening drew to a close Eset was quick to ward off courtiers and whisk @Toula away to her bedchamber where she could exist for once in silence after her bath.

“Would you like to be alone, my Queen?” There is hesitation in the threshold. She had prepared the sovereign’s room with the usual customaries, but some light touches, too. She’d clipped some acacia to fragrant the new chamber for a little reminder of home. She’d fixed her bed with the finest of pelts, and also on the floor where her paws would step first on something soft.

There was much to think about. The fellahin would not crowd her, but she worries.