"And those luxurious silk martial arts robes you sweated in? The expensive imported ointments you used for your muscle aches? The literal roof over your head that kept the rain off your 'honorable' shoulders?" Heena's voice began to drop, losing its melodic cheer and turning as cold and sharp as cracked ice. "Who paid for every single drop of your existence?"
Soram's face turned a violent shade of red. He clenched his fists, completely humiliated. "That... that was my right as your future husband! I offer you my protection in return!"
"Protection?" Heena genuinely laughed this time. It was a cold, piercing sound.
She gestured lazily over her shoulder toward the towering, silent mountain of muscle standing right behind her.
Without even breaking eye contact, Heena reached back and smoothly drew Samuel's heavy steel sword straight from its scabbard. The metallic shing rang out clearly in the quiet courtyard.
She leveled the tip of the blade directly at Soram's chest.
