Lion Head Mesa ashes

I would have you look at me, Arsenio said to her, confident and rough against his throat as he spoke it. Your gaze is not likely to entrance me. I am a mercenary, not a savage. Was it fear that guided her eyes to the ground, the walls, the distant moon each time that he was around her? The auburn wolf did not understand what she believed he might do to her, without the permission of those she belonged to.

Tamar spoke of the dark wolf, calling him a royal physician. The Greek chuckled softly at the charming little title, such a frivolous thing for a timid creature like Crowfeather. Arsenio wondered for only a moment what the dark wolf and the lady queen could be learning from one another.

Ah, the man nodded his head, understanding and unoffended at the autumn maid’s words. Arsenio did not even consider himself a true member of their pack.

Tamar, you are familiar with the ways of these wolves. How is this?

The misthofóros had paid attention too, but he did not wish to show what he knew. He would prefer for the maidservant to think him a fool, a brute, rather than a spy.