Alone with Nive, Ayla once more dropped the charm which held the curly haired brat in stony thrall. Nive virtually exploded with rage, her violet eyes blazing furiously as she stood, hands clenched into fists, face taut with an expression which mirrored that of her far-off father.
“You,” she said, drawing a hissed breath between her teeth. “Do not know who you are dealing with.”
“Neither do you,” Ayla replied quite calmly. She smiled patiently, seeming to enjoy the conflict. “You do not know how many times I have been through this very process, taming wild young women. Waifs and strays with attitude to burn…”