Luneshale Pass fifty-third

again he spoke of queen and kingdom. senmut did not respond. it was not poise which led him, nor blankness; it was his bluntness against courtly jibe, those of which he did not know how to return. the prince understood only that taking rashepses from the queen's court for a time would allow the people to settle.

if he hoped for more to join his camp, it was an idle thought, not fitting for a priest. he trusted the Divine Wife implicitly; he only wished she would come to see the man before him as senmut did.

chaos. churning.

"leave by sundown. i will bear your report to the queen." he could be obstacle at her door, and meant to be. 

inside was a boyish shifting of fear and anger coalescing into nausea; he would be sick later, another thing unbecoming of a godly ruler.

"Amun keep you."