Lion Head Mesa taken care of

"in the desert." nazli looked well enough, and so he pulled away and took up a post nearer the doorway.

"our queen wants a coronation palace. we obey." he had not taken his eyes from her own. they were obsidian pools, lambent with some inner fire unquenched by her current physical state.

"they are having a fine time. drinking. rabble-rousing. engaging in their endless foolish politics."

he gestured at her, sensing less esteem in her rank than he had originally thought, and growing comfortable. "why are you ill?"