Lion Head Mesa bread & beer

Toula did not have the same eye as he, but had enough sense to understand, as the Mazoi looked at her, her mortality. divine though she was, it was a mortals flesh that the royal inhabited. but be that as it was, she was unafraid of death. not in that reckless, devil may care sort of way—but in a way that, as she looked upon him, would plainly reveal that her end was a thing to be embraced. it would not be the permanent end, and perhaps she like her father might ascend. 
her gaze was still soft, not moving from him. unflinching in the face of what she saw, she saw it all unfold. yes, yes, she would die—I know, those soft eyes of hers seemed to say—as all things did. 
but it would not be today. go, then, she bid, gesturing to the halls where a fellahin awaited to lead the way. now her gaze turned Akhtar; she gestured nearer to her, where yet another set of furs were set down for him. but she would not speak until the sounds of the newest Mazoi’s departure faded to nothing.