Lion Head Mesa barque

ramesses watched satsu's small paw envelop the stone and listened to the air between them stir with her consideration. she answered him with the same regality she wore around her slender body, a length of fine-grade linen that veiled her only in a deflective mist.
but pharaoh had been prepared for the light insult and the rejection that came from satsu. "because in a place such as akashingo, one day a man will ask you for the price to your purity." she might follow behind a visitor, pale, understated glow against the cinnamon fire of jawahir, or the limestone desires provided by maggie — but satsu was always noticeable. 
"does your answer change if you understand that i seek to give you a far greater respect, and in full acceptance of never consummating this union?" pharaoh asked next, lightly. he knew why exactly satsu demurred, and had each time he had teased her in lust. she had never succumbed, and it was not for this that ramesses asked now.
"say you are queen of akashingo and no man would dare. choose a retinue; take the girl mouseberry as your handmaid. and not even she need know the truth."
a gambit. he readjusted his proverbial pieces upon their gaming-board, and waited.