What is your greatest strength?

People tend to underestimate me. Admittedly, a lot of that is what I work for. I wore the Green instead of the Grey when I worked, or no Jewel at all. I'm small, thin. I look delicate. I look weak. I wear flowing things designed to seduce that soften the lines of muscles well trained. By the time men touch me, they are too inflamed with lust to note the hardness under my skin instead of softness of untrained muscle. They comment lewdly on my flexibility, without realizing what it means in battle.

They do not know of the hours I spend training, pushing myself endlessly to increase the capacity of what my body can endure. They don't know the accuracy of my knife throws. They don't realize the precision with which I can cut.

They look at me with lust in their eyes. They see a soft, seductive whore.

They see what I want them to see.

They never look further, and that gives me every advantage when I drive my dagger through their hearts.

Betrayal

Her eyes were gold, like his, but soft and gentle where his were hard. Sharp. They had a vicious edge to them that I'd seen reflected in the mirror too often. I relished it. Relished his strength, tempered with respect. He knew I could obliterate him. He knew if he harmed me, someone else would. And yet he took me fearlessly, confident in his own ability, arrogant in his own status as a Warlord Prince. Almost disdaining the thought that even a Grey Jeweled Witch could destroy him with Craft. He wore dark Jewels. He was a Prince. What had he to fear from me?

It gave our play an edge of danger, that line we walked, breathless and panting. Clashing together in a battle of wills and skills and never sure who was the victor.

She was the opposite. A Healer, gentle and kind. She tended those we saw as prey. Soft hands, warm heart. She smiled, her eyes downcast. Modest. Appealing. Sweet to me even in a genuine way, though I searched for malice in her. There was none. Her eyes lit when he entered the room. She flushed when he glanced at her, longing sharp and the scent of her desire for him almost overpowering.

He stood taller when she was near. His smile was softer. He growled less and his movements were protective. Gentle. He never spoke sharply to her.

He took me even harder, an underlacing of contempt showing through.

I left before he could betray me further.