His father had been at the height of his power, his mother still alive and beautiful, his sister not yet even a dream.His mother! The inescapable blac... wedge driven through the houses Lei and Menadin: his father would not speak of her, his sister had only memories of their step-mother, his grandfather Rau had died from grief, and his uncle Ramad had never quite stopped trying to place the blame. Iordan often felt that he alone carried fond and loving memories of once-princess Psiolia Menadin. Her anger flashed across her nice-looking face, she thrashed about in violent effort to free herself. I spat a thick stream of slobber on her face. She tried, in vain, to get the foul spittle from her cheek.My own pain subsided. I’m a tall, muscled man, built to hand out pain. She’s a small woman. No, she’s just a girl, couldn’t weigh an ounce over 90 pounds. The whore had no chance, not against me. Not with any man, not ever, bitches are bitches and nothing more. Clasping her hair, I yanked. More

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