Rosewater Oasis i

both.

molten eyes do not stray. forelegs unfurling, each step shaped by a hand not idle. never idle. and as he speaks, gold remains turned to what lay ahead. his oasis.

he speaks and it is the rumble of honeyed falls.

i was shaped by the gods, born under their blessing. destiny carved in stone. but destiny alone does not command kingdoms. one must bleed for it. burn for it.

his eyes flick to her briefly and search for understanding.

and you? you have went from slave girl to pharaoh’s servant. that is a feat. he trails off, as if suddenly detached only momentarily. that grandeur slipping to something darker. he knew that his family; father, brother, uncle—were cruel. cruel to their subjects.

not all flames survive the desert wind.