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qiao's words had been sent with an archer's masterful aim; that they shattered their target brought a subtle smile to qiao's often emotionless countenance.

belen spoke true, and ramesses had made it known to qiao the moment she stepped within his keep. often, she imagined she saw sly glances from the fellahin. perhaps these stolen looks were conceived from a wellspring of bitterness.

but is that what you want? qiao asked, half-lidded gaze constricting around the fair-faced belen like a languidly uncoiling snake. each of us has a use, and each of us has a talent. these concepts are not mutually inclusive. perhaps you would like something different out of life?