Lion Head Mesa a whispering god

"and who said these things?" senmut asked, attempting to keep his voice moderated for both their sakes. his palms skimmed the shoulders of machiavelli once more, but now he moved round to sponge desert dust from the soft chest.

"eset left muat-riya to find you, alone. you return to akashingo alone. where does that leave her?" he did not hold suspicion, only an abiding, haunted worry.

at last he stilled, holding those eyes with his own gemstone stare.