Two Eyes Cenote ninety-third

"what is this?" and senmut's voice gathered anger, and surprise; eset would not have left machiavelli like this.

surprised then, to have outreached hand perhaps scorched, scorned by teeth in a swollen mouth;

this was not the grinning, glint-eyed beauty who had accompanied the prince on his long march. machiavelli had become a monster.

"eset told me what occurred." his voice held a worried frown, his face a stricken look. he could smell the fever in the addled skin, and reached again; "let me remove these thorns. then we will speak."