'What would Nazli do?'

A ridiculous query for a situation that had been entirely avoidable, had she only been a good daughter and a proper princess; or if the boons of the priesthood had flowed through her in the same way as the holy blood of both her parents; or if she had trusted the gods with the loyalty and adherence that they were owed—Aiesha could not fathom what her mother would do. All she had to go off of was a fading memory that she had deified for too long.

Had she been wrong to think she deserved freedom? Khaemwaset had looked at her in such a way—!

Sighing, falling to one side among the furs that were stale with dust, it wasn't until Senmut's voice broke the disquiet of the empty room that Aiesha sat up again, startled, mindless—and she saw him, finally.

Up she flowed, magmatic—crowding in to Senmut for a much needed hug.

I messed up. I messed it all up! Lamenting in to his furs, which were as dust-choked as the last.