Lion Head Mesa A neat tucked slice

qiao was unused to such attention. this man knew her for mere moments, and already she could sense the devotion radiating from him.

ramesses certainly employed a type. qiao did not begrudge sayf his unflinching devotion -- if anything, it seemed endearing to the bitter crone who had learned long ago no wolf was worth anything save for what their hide could be used for.

thank you, sayf. qiao's smile was indulgent. ramesses had said sayf was her personal fellahin, was he not? she could see no other filling his role so perfectly. there are several things i will need to prepare for the pharaoh's children, and these i may ask after in the coming week. but mostly, i need your knowledge, sayf. qiao's smile evaporated and her gaze became sharp. who in akashingo do you trust implicitly? what is it an outsider like me needs to know?