Lion Head Mesa [m] signet

nazli did not cease in her toil.
ramesses was coming to appreciate the jeweled look of what makono had seen in her always, the carefully chosen words, the care with which she whisked the wellspring from him with a dedication to her work always apparent.
nazli looked for a moment as if she would speak, and then the fellahin did so. he saw the work of Thoth's thinking in the way she arranged her words, as if they were lines upon a papyrus.
the gemstone glory of his eyes flickered; darkened. did she mean to be forward? pharaoh did not believe so.
but a servant said what their lord wished to hear;
"you could." a tiny mist of water as one ear flicked sideways. "i could order it. you come to me whenever i call you. and i enjoy that very much."
the noble mouth was caught by humour.
"but," ramesses exhaled in divine patience and affection, "i give this to you. a choice, in honor of your lifelong service to this palace." did she now see?
speak, his eyes bid her.