Lion Head Mesa Isle of flame

His greeting for the sand-silk lady was a fanged smile and a rumble of invitation. “Join me, Lady Tadihor.”

Rashepses pushed through patches of reeds and descended into their sacred waters. The sun floated on the green surface, shattering and reforming as the king’s body punctured its shape. Searing golden eyes watched her from the shallows, running down over her legs and back up her hips.

“The court will select a suitable husband for you from our allied kingdoms, Nebet,” he informed. At two she was beginning to lose the value of her youth, but she would make a handsome bride still.