A Dish Best Served Cold
“Sit,” Aeron Bastual ordered, in Common.
“No.”
His hand lashed out and slapped her violently across the face. Bjorke wiped the blood from her mouth and grinned at him.
“Sit!”
“No!”
His green eyes flared, and his hands began to glow. “Feel my power! You will obey!”
Pain seared behind her eyes. Bjorke bit her lip trying to resist, but the urge to do his bidding was too strong. She sank to her knees in front of him.
“To think my sister was killed by someone so weak, so pitiful.” He sneered at her. Read the rest of this entry »
