Lion Head Mesa they feed on temple grain ☥

It is only the two of them.

Ichor and lily drench the air, thick as bee’s honey. Rivulets of molten gold and jewels texture the seats of Pharaoh and Consort. A striking pulse afflicts her veins. She takes a careful step inside, unsurprised to find the cathedra opulently maintained even in mother’s absence.

On one wall the relief of grandfather Pharaoh Ramesses looms above Khaem.
The resemblance is preternatural.

Rising forcefully before Merneith is the Queen's dais. Her chest fills and falls in thoughtful silence.

Beside her, Khaem is grounded in his stance. But his eyes glint keenly, wide with passion. The princess has never seen this look before, and she does not know whether she can trust it.

“When that day comes, it will divide us,” Neith whispers solemnly. “You know this. I know you do.”