Lion Head Mesa Voice of man

"i have had no word from the roman, great one," senmut answered in a muted tone, divining for time. racharra should have taken his carefully laid arrangement with hearthwood. as prince, and hereditary at that, his word came second to that of rashepses and third to the final say of pharaoh.

she would not enjoy the haughty, beautiful Consort to the First God ordering her future, and yet it had come to this. the scarlet priest held no more sway over this matter, and in some small way he was relieved for it.

he himself would not have considered the moon villages, and perhaps his haughtiness had made him a poor tactician. with great wealth and strong connections, protected routes and many fighters, they would be a ferocious ally to have and an even greater enemy.

he thought of nazli; ached for her.

"i will inform the nebet of what has been decided," senmut assured, letting out his breath as knowing paws began their second knead, this time upon his own shoulders. 

pharaoh had not seen fit to marry off her priest, and for this was he grateful. he wondered; at his rank, would a wife even be a right of his? many high priests could not balance both.