Lion Head Mesa meadowlands

The acceptance undams something inside her, and the intensity wets her cheeks in full. She knew she’d have to send him away soon, so she can be alone. It’s as though the attendant has given his goddess permission to feel.

Her paw smooths the flecks of corundum underfoot. My stone, she thinks. My land. Her eyes move over Charmion, his head lowered with just enough deference to show respect without appearing cowed.

My regent.

She approaches the coyote, discharging him with a small touch to the sepia shoulder. “It will be done,” the amiirad smiles.

He would learn all manner of things– of the deities and how best to honor them; the history of Akashingo and the delicate political balance of her parents’ kingdom. All of which would be relayed to his princess. She may only ever appear as an emblematic jewel beside Pharaoh’s throne, but she and he would know better.

Neith settles before the lunch so tenderly displayed, clasping her tail over her paws. “This is our business, Charmion. I think it is important that we are discreet.”