Lion Head Mesa stele

Without as much of a blink after learning of her home and leaders, he shifted the conversation—swiftly, almost, and in a way that appeared openly friendly, as if simply curious and looking for amicable discussion. Meadow knew better.

Reyson had claimed to be courting her—he wasn’t looking to keep their relationship a secret. It had been her request to the tawny wolf to court her, slowly, but surely… and he had done so without pressure.

Courting, however, did not seem official enough. Permanent enough. And so, she allowed with a soft smile: “I am his and he is mine,” she commented, forcing herself to relax more, reaching for his offer of the sweet liquid.

She would take a sip—a soft hum of appreciation given, forced, yet still genuine. Reyson had warned her of its effects—but she had a feeling the Pharaoh’s invitation was less suggestion and more insistent. “This is divine,” she offered, determining now two could play this potential game—whatever it might be. Flattery seemed a safe route with the man before her. “Can you share with me how they make it, Lord Pharaoh?”

A pause, she demurred another smile to the man who was very pleased with himself right now. “A battle in the sunspire? I would love to hear more. She paused, eyes grazing over him. “Am I too bold to believe it victorious? I’m a healer, you see… I don’t see any past injuries that would speak differently.”