More than frightened, Nive was also thoroughly annoyed. She had been just hours from being a princess when the brutal warrior had single handedly dispatched her escort. She hadn’t known any of them, of course. They were a gift from the prince of Iskendar, but still. It was not pleasant seeing their demise, nor did she feel comfortable in the presence of the woman who caused it.

It was all completely maddening, she thought as she scrambled upright, her rear stinging from the application of the warrior’s palm. Merciful treatment, she supposed given what the woman was capable of.
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“Why are you sulking?” The toe of a dusty boot met the rump of a prisoner with relative gentleness, a nudge more than a kick.

Furious violet tinged blue eyes blazed up at the warrior in response to the stimulation of the captive’s half-covered posterior. That morning several maidservants had painstakingly dressed her in her best finery before she was conducted to her carriage. She was no longer wearing any of it. Upon capture she had been stripped of everything. The warrior had cut away her gown while she screamed in rage and taken every ring, necklace and jewel on her person.
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