[ Her eyebrows knit together. There are no wounds that have reopened; no new damage that might cause such a reaction from him. What hurts him must be of emotions or the mind then. A frown touches her face as she looks down at him once more. They are not wounds or troubles she can heal.

Comfort, however, she can most certainly give.

The hand on his chest turns to hold his. She hesitates for only a moment before sliding her fingers between his -- stopping halfway in case he should wish to pull his hand away. Her head lowers to press a kiss to his forehead once more. Perhaps the notions are too bold and too familiar... but she can think of nothing else to help ease the surge of emotions in him. ]

You are Pharaoh, my dear. You represent Egypt in all her facets. If the land and people must recover... so must you. After you sleep I will send for your Priests.