Lion Head Mesa thirty-seventh

his head was beginning to swim. senmut fought the indicative slurring of his tongue. "the only one here who posed any threat to lilitu has been dead for a long while."

that horrid eve; he remembered the way ramesses had drunk down the draught in full knowing before he and the daughter who became pharaoh thereafter.

to swan, a glinting smile. "child of a warlord. it is no wonder you found company with that roman."

those dark secrets were not the man's to know; he understood only the natural enmity of akashingo's blood against that of germanicus.

the woman, staring at the man with the gold-yellow eyes in such want it began to heat senmut's own blood.

"i did not know his origins, only that he was a sort of plaything to ramesses."

did swan want this of taltos? the prince found his breath warming to spiced wine in his throat. "i might leave you to your discussion," was his next invitation, for surely they both would fall to fire when he had gone. "tomorrow, an audience with the queen."