a far crueler fate awaited her—a long, torturous existence as a slave, if lucky, to a merciful master. Nor could this unfortunate soul have realized that, until she was sold, her life would belong to the very same invader who had just slain her father. The old hornbearer’s actions had fractured something within Fuerte, leaving a void that he did not fully comprehend. Now, all that hatred, all that emptiness, had passed onto the daughter, as if by inheritance.

Mentally praising himself for this false nobility, the tormentor chose not to interrupt this spectacle. Instead, he savored the sight, letting the new slave's misery soak into his skin like a balm.

With grim satisfaction, he focused on the woman’s features. To the average person, a woodland maiden might have seemed strange, her ang...

Please subscribe to keep reading.