The scent of youthful indulgence wafted like incense across the room. It sent a ripple of discordance through Hotep's innermost parts, which he struggled privately to tamp down.

Yes. It was good that Pharaoh and Queen belove one another. Soon, the work of making heirs would begin, and they would benefit from the attachment in this coming spell.

It was the throne room, not the temple. Purifications were meant for those intending to stand in the presence of divinity, not, necessarily, the other way around. He supposed.

And they were young! (Though not that much younger than Hotep, who held ritual and manner so paramount in all his activities.)

So indeed there was a moment of conflict in the High Priest's heart, wherein he wished to be supportive of his god-heir dynasts, and still could not evade a measure of disappointment at how carelessly they took their seats before a sanctified guest he had only just praised them so highly to!

Well-guarded features would not reveal the dissonance. He unclenched his jaw and made the proper obeisance, and in response to their acknowledgement, spoke clarion, You know that I labour in your name to return Ra's light to the sky, against the agents of chaos which seek to destroy you.

He looked to his companion, From this endeavour, El'Zeath was reborn in sacred flame. But whether she was sent by the gods, she cannot say. So I bring her before you, the highest of priests, to make sense of what has happened.

Though his features might remain impassive, his tone measured and respectful... an ear accustomed to the subtleties of court might intuit the reminder of decorum folded into Setemhotep's explanation.