Lion Head Mesa the darkest side of me

Eivor, too, had not taken kindly to the assumption of her status—a downplay to her strength and prowess, as if she were only here—as others had been—to look pretty upon his arm. She did not disappoint in addressing the man before them—and his cold eyes swept over Senmut, looking to see just what her words inspired within the man.

Nothing was mentioned of it—the Erpa-ha citing the assumed whereabouts of the cartel—located so close to Muat-riya. Again, convenience? Or a trap?

His tongue slid across his teeth and he pushed himself forward, closer to the man now—the click of claws upon the sandstone ground the only indication of how much he had to control himself to keep from throttling the life from the man before him.

He had told Eivor to continue as if nothing had happened—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could.

“We take no mazoi with us. The Valley packs are not units in which Akashingo will control. It is in our own best interest to rid the danger that is close to our homes, and we will keep Muat-riya and Akashingo aware of any findings we have.”

He paused—lengthy—a tick in his jaw—Silvertongue’s teary eyes flashing before him once more. “Unless we have no reason to trust you and yours. Tell me, Senmut. Is there reason we should not trust you, or anything you have told us in the past?”