Meadowlark Prairie waiting on the planet to turn to me, dark side

The herbalist spoke to him in a curious way. There was no political toying, nothing that bordered on questionable or uncertain. The sharpness of her gaze was plain sparked with an intelligence that spoke of her years on the land. Arsenio relaxed a bit more in the woman’s presence.

She spoke of kings and queens who bled their people dry. The Greek man thought of Tamar and Sayf with an ache in his heart. She said that he would be bled dry, too. Arsenio looked to her with a weary glint to his gaze. He smiled, only halfway and then breathed a huff of a sigh into the chilly air. What the woman said was correct and he would not argue it with her.

I would not care if the queen were killed tonight. I care even less for her husband, he remarked with a smirk and a shrug of his broad shoulders. You and I share these beliefs, fýllo mágissa.

The cool blue in his eyes shifted to her features, inquisitive and searching.

Is it only nettle and comfrey that bring you to these lands? Or are you seeking more?