Two Eyes Cenote iii. ḫp ỉb

There’s a sharp jolt when she looks down to see his hand covering her own. Eset pulls her paw away, shooting him a startled look. She is not so naive to believe it an accident, and certainly not when followed by the careful wording of his next, despite the interposed apology.

“It’s all right,” she allays habitually. When she looks into his face again she tenses to see something like hunger there.

She is obligated to serve her kingdom’s neb, to see he is taken care of here. Innocence was a luxury, and Eset knew her gods did not demand it. But she was no longer bound to entertain the courtiers in all ways, and so before where she would have expressly offered the noble man a bath, Eset only inclines her head politely. She no longer feels as though she might break apart at any moment. She is not so fine, and not so fragile.

“Of course. A bath can be prepared for you later, my Lord,” she continues with the tour, escorting him now into the ballroom. “What has brought you to our Kingdom?” She asks, turning the subject.