“I understand your offer,” he said curtly, and moved to step back. Shanka let him, but she didn’t sheathe her knife.
“And your terms?”
“What are yours?” Rastaban asked.
“We will let you live if you stop warring on our nation.” Shanka kept her chin up, and her golden eyes glinted in the dying firelight.
Something in Rastaban stirred. She wasn’t - quite canny.
“What, precisely, is your nation?”
“You know it well,” Shanka said. “Your men have raided it for the past twenty years.” She tilted her head to one side. “But then, long ago, you were part of it.”
1 comment:
Well, I am finally caught up and very interested in what is happening. Shanka is wonderfully cruel and beautiful, and then of course there is the unfolding mystery of what exactly this nation is and and the allusions to what really happened in its history.
Post a Comment