Lion Head Mesa Sessho-seki

Sayf met his mistress' gaze and stared back with a knowing of his own. He would need to find some way to move the meet to her quarters without ingesting any of it himself. Maybe in a pelt or something. 

The pharaoh seemed to ignore his offer, which filled his chest with a pain so intense, he thought he might vomit. He wondered if his master would ever trust him again—the idea that he wouldn't made it difficult to breath, though he tried to keep the escalating panic to himself. This was not the time nor place. 

Instead, he would wait silently for instruction.