11.

fright

Johara was not frightened. Her bravery had been her only companion as a child, and she saw no reason to cast it aside as an adult. Her bravery made her unafraid of the armies that came for her, made her sure that they would all lay down and die, like sick dogs.

The silver bars of her cage sang of loyalty, and how to secure it. The sapphires nestled within the great wrought flowers gently let their secrets of love show in the moonlight. The tattoos that slowly appeared on her skin like a stain whispered of desire, and what it could make a man do.

'All you must do is ask,' they said, 'and they will do what you require.'

By the time the first warrior found her, she had become a master at seduction. The bars and jewels and other cold things shivered with joy when she commanded her first kill, and found it was easy, so easy, to make a man die.

The only thing that could crack Johara's bravery, her mask glued in place by her determination, was the idea that one day, she would meet a man who would laugh at her lofty requests.