Two Eyes Cenote linen

"love and tradition are uncomfortable bedfellows, prince," ramesses said, perhaps softly insistent on the final syllable. for the riverman from ta-senet knew that was what he would always be; surely he knew, that prince was forever his title, Consort, Beloved, but never the inheritance and wealth of lineage which ramesses had passed to his children, a chest of jewels to which toula would add her own names and hand this to her chosen heir.
and rashepses, no part in it.
unprecedented, indeed. "my daughters come from pharaohs. her sister was already crowned here. it seems our young hawk-in-the-nest has come to Ma'at's knowledge in her own way. only blood may displace blood."
ramesses turned grandly, scintillating in gold-dust between worlds. "i do not need to tell you that i shall petition Osiris Himself to curse you with waking death, should you betray your words to me this evening, rashepses."