zoya-nazyalensky:

Zoya ruffled her hair, let her kefta slip down from one shoulder, and eased into the king’s arms. The charade was necessary, and it was an easy role to play, sometimes too easy. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “How is it I smell like goose shit and cheak whiskey and you smell like you just ran through a meadow of wildflowers?” “Ruthlessness.” 

for @kamalakahn