turn His face from this murder. turn His heart from this hatred, Lady of the Temple, nebet of our house.
sitamun might have continued the litany were it not for the garbled word sounded behind her. she whirled in graceful rise, ears up, eyes hardening. his blunder had nearly cost the priestess her footing, and now she glowered at him with the all righteous anger of her role.
the man was travelworn and did not look well. juxtaposed against the velvet of his tongue, his appearance stirred something in sitamun. he had not meant to stumble, nor to call out. his intention had not been to disturb her.
the fellahin put her head to one side in consideration, pursing her lips.
you have come very close to the travel-camp of satriya. our great royal wife has a kindness for wanderers.but the iron eyes had not yet softened; she took him in with a cool appraisal.
now you have seen me. what has befallen you?
she could afford to be kind in light of such a smooth apology.
seeing that his eyes were gold, that he was slim-built with what she felt was desert grace, only then did her annoyance become intrigue.