Lion Head Mesa stele

they played quite the game. and meadow seemed a natural at this verbal senet. he looked back toward the painting as she praised it, nodding once. "it is important to me that akashingo treasure art and medicine alongside pleasure."
his eyes traced the shapes. "i have had two lavish weddings here, lasting three days each." his lips quirked but he did not look toward her now. "the saints had taken the vale but we came to the canyon. we routed them from all of it, akashingon and mereo beneath my helm."
his tongue was loosened; his eyes were bright and interested once more, having moved back to her. "it is good to see someone so devoted to her work. before you go, i will send you with three leaves from our most precious tree. guard them well."
he still did not understand what she saw in the man, but ramesses knew to pry no more. his limbs were filled with the hot cinnamon fire of the drink. a vow was not a marriage. and she seemed scholarly. ramesses was adept at discovering one's temptation. "i must give you gifts for arsenio and tamar. tell them of akashingo, of the favour you will carry back to your home."
his own. the lazuli eyes tested.