12/8/2025, 8:37 PM
Thin, wavering, the voice is still hers.
“Setemhotep talks too much,” jodai whispers at last with no gruffness to hide what tremor relieves his word. Feet shift on the reed matting, restless. Useless. The bower is dim, sharp with pulp of healing plants and the sweetness of breath. Sitamun's silhouette is thinner now, fragile in ways that anger him and half-swallowed in a fur. Sapair steps inside as she rises.
“Lie back,” a soldier’s voice is too jarring for the small chamber, “your head…”
Eyes lower to the edge of the bedding where one scarlet wrist lay exposed.
“Setemhotep talks too much,” jodai whispers at last with no gruffness to hide what tremor relieves his word. Feet shift on the reed matting, restless. Useless. The bower is dim, sharp with pulp of healing plants and the sweetness of breath. Sitamun's silhouette is thinner now, fragile in ways that anger him and half-swallowed in a fur. Sapair steps inside as she rises.
“Lie back,” a soldier’s voice is too jarring for the small chamber, “your head…”
Eyes lower to the edge of the bedding where one scarlet wrist lay exposed.