Lion Head Mesa a whispering god

one look into the moonstone eyes unraveled senmut — but he thought then of isetnofret and how he had denied such beauty entry into akashingo. it was from a sense of protection, no matter how misplaced.

a wan and humorless grin clung to his mouth for a moment. "we have already spoken treasonously," he said with cerise chin jutted toward the entryway, as if to defy any spying ears. "i will not say what i intend to do, if only to spare you whatever comes next."

plausible deniability. his eyes asked that machiavelli understand, paw turning to cup that palm against his own. eyes shut for a moment; senmut tilted his head back and drew a steadying breath. "you must preserve yourself now; seize the opportunity to leave. wait for eset. i speak as your prince and your — and your companion, machiavelli. i would not see you hurt again for this realm."