Lion Head Mesa threw it away, but now i say

just like that, qiao felt confident she’d discovered something along these little threads. she had given it a hearty tug and look how the seams unraveled!

khaba was insistent in guiding her elsewhere. why? their last encounter he’d done everything short of spit in her face. to what end did it serve to steer her away from the crown prince? to deny her passage after she made it clear it came from ramesses’ bidding?

the wheels in qiao’s skull began to churn.

qiao would sooner displease the crown prince than the pharaoh, for her bloodpact laid with ramesses. qiao cared not one fig for the sniveling orders of a pup. she straightened, distrustful of the man who now sought to prevent her from carrying out the pharaoh’s wishes.  if she was not so sick of men and their swinging, overinflated egos, she might have commended khaba for the spectacular set of balls he displayed by threatening a higher ranking wolf.

jodai, you will forgive my insistence. at this she bowed deeply with a smile that almost seemed harmless. but it is most improper to tell me that i cannot carry out the pharaoh’s wishes. either explain to me the meaning of you blocking my egress, or answer to it tomorrow when i inform the pharaoh his command could not be carried out because his jodai committed treason.

qiao’s glittering gaze now fell upon him hard as anvilstrike.