Lion Head Mesa it's the same old trick, they played their hand

“We agree to an audience,” the obsidian concurred, for in his dreams he too knew the craft of the late Pharaoh Ramesses. The spread of Aten’s rays, of Mereo’s rebirth blazed in his mind. “But nothing more. The moment she passes into the red palace, she is at our mercy.”

The soldiers were doughty as of late, and so was the king. They would make short work of a wayward coyote woman with demands upon the tongue.

Rashepses raised his fiery golden eyes from Toula’s fingertips to her face, framing her chin within his palm.

“Allow me to kiss you, goddess of thrones,” he whispered in egyptian.