Buttery light spilled into the courtyard, and Hannahanna brushed through Kigal’s tangle of hair as they lay stretched out on a plum blanket. She worked through it with an ivory comb, going from the ends up to her scalp, cursing every windswept and matted knot along the way. Kigal sighed and tried to enjoy it, though the tugging made her wince. Fine. She would take whatever pain came her way, if only to distract her from her own thoughts.
After Kigal had returned to Ganzir, she could scarcely speak of the Anzu, no less the things Nergal had confessed to her. Though curious, none of her friends had pressed the matter.
Pashmi however had insisted on a bath, and submerged Kigal in enough steaming water to match the flow of the Tigris River. And scrubbed her with enough salt to deplete a mine
