Lion Head Mesa Primrose

"she should dance. not only for pharaoh but for the gods," khaemwaset purred, settling deeper into the ragged stone of the red seat.

choosing that moment to look toward neith, he was affected by her loving regard, the way stars stood in her beautiful eyes. his own kiss then was quick, his smiles reserved in part for her alone; "they will throw garlands of flowers to her and sing her name, for Hathor's glory must be renewed again and again."

was it the priest who had taught him this, or did he recite from some ancient tome, opening just now to his holy might.

his palm, warm upon her cheek, a somber cloud falling hard between them.