“I do, however, believe in sporting chances,” Shanka continued. “I will give you one week to prepare your army to meet me on the Steppes, far away from both of our nations to spare both sides undue casualties.” She stepped forward, steps slow, hips swaying, and for one moment she was Kana again. She reached up and wound an arm around Rastaban’s neck, leaned in, and for one moment he was frozen, sure she was about to kiss him.
Kana had never kissed him.
“Sweet Rastaban,” she whispered. “Your mother was one of our finest warriors. What would she think?”
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