Two Eyes Cenote sixtieth

this conversation was not new.

this dance of servant and prince was not new.

senmut, unsure. nazli, accomodating.

it was where they had ended. they had progressed no further. he saw the slats of her poor exposed bones standing in stark relief, and all senmut remembered was nazli's unending sorrow which he had not stopped from ending.

in this, and this alone, was his queen mistaken: senmut was not free, for nazli was not.

"i wished only to see you." his breath hitched. "khusobek tells me that you have many physicians tending you. please be assured that their medicines will be supported by constant resupplying, and they need only ask for anything, from desert to flatland, and it will be found."