Rastaban took a step back. “How do you know that?”
“My scouts are very good at what they do,” Shanka said. It was an implication, but not a real answer.
Rastaban studied her face, her dark skin and her uncanny golden eyes. He’d seen her before, he was sure of it - and not just on the steppes.
“Who are you?” Rastaban curled his hands into fists, felt his fingertips trace the sign against evil against his thigh.
Shanka stepped back, sheathed her knife, and tipped down her helm. “I’m two of a very special kind. For now. Keep your terms.”
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