Luneshale Pass good fortune

he could turn away this cup from himself.

he need only fall in humility, explain to his beloved queen that he was unfit to be pharaoh, that he quailed in the face of controversy, that he was meant as food for the gods, sustenance for all her wants, never as her equal let alone ruler over all of akashingo.

that his blood was rich dark sludge compared to her godlit veins, good earth in which could be grown a good servant but never a deity.

he could, senmut thought dizzily, marry the princess. she would be priestess and princess both then, and surely this would satisfy claims to the throne, which their queen could then pass to her husband.

he was sick! he paced!

and when her attendants found him, they would find their prince owlish and disheveled, hardly becoming of his catskin nor the marking on his forehead. senmut straightened himself as best he was able, and followed, and when he had come into her royal presence, flung himself down in the white dust as if he had never been so eager to grovel.