Lion Head Mesa ninety-seventh

He watched the way her eyes lowered, the way she went still and attentive in her kneel, voice soft and floating from the foot of his throne.

Beside her, the holy man’s gift was plain and semer-wati would prize him for it– later.

“Peace has held in Akashingo since our reign,” he praises of their illustrious kingdom which needed no elaborate coloring. “My wife grants a choice to her people. In what capacity will you fulfill your service, Nasima?”

Arching his head, the vivid yellow of the king’s irises traced freely down her narrow coy-features, though he was not averse. Canines glinted in a lazy grin.