Aiesha turned with the warmth and openness meant for her father, only the man speaking to her was not Senmut. She recognized the gilded shadow flanked by his own monolith; Aiesha's expression faltered—an immediate confusion and then concern shifted her from Senmut's double to Nazli's, doe-eyed for that singular sharp breath.

It was—good. I enjoyed it very much, although the meeting with Shenlei was pushed to the bottom of her list of priorities.

She drew closer to him. Trying to remain deferential, respectful—but unwilling to let him lead the conversation. What do you mean, 'come back'? Where did he go?

Why did this feeling of ignorance burn in her throat so badly? Aiesha didn't know how tense she had become, or how tight the frown.