Blackfeather Woods March,

Something passed through Rashepses’ yellow eyes. A flicker that was finite.

“I will raise this army, wife. Until the day our sons come of age.” His eyes surveyed her. “You are overtired. You need water.” It was a long way to the blue palace. Too long for a woman of her status to walk.

And as much as it pleased him to see how she sharpened on the march, he feared. A pair of fellahin kept close by their master’s order, to see her feet were tended and meals provided. One stepped dutifully forward now to water his Pharaoh.

Rashepses’ gaze was steady over Toula. “Muat-riya has fallen into chaos.” It suggested many things, least not the need for structural reform.