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

hunting for the queen. so noble a string of words together. what ideal in this world could conjure in its singular essence a more vibrant and rich culture whose ancient tradition lay in blood: from the pale rosepetal to the butcher's block -- all for the single whim of the queen. qiao had met several queens in her life, but her true experience lay with the men that adored them: behind every soft-eyed and soft-spoken woman was a killer who would die to protect her.

qiao wondered if this man too, would die for his queen.

"comfrey has many uses, but its best is in helping wounds heal. nettle is for me." qiao allowed a little smile. "steep it in riverwater for two weeks, and it becomes quite different from its living cousin. now, who is this queen?"