Several she-elves lounged about the simple room. They were scantily clothed, revealing every feminine curve. Vínmorr forced himself to look away.

Prochk, who had already started drinking from a new flagon, sauntered toward the she-elves. He bowed with a grand flourish.

"Ah, my ladies! What a pleasure it is to see you here, looking so splendid."

They giggled in response. Two of them rose to embrace Kherr Prochk and led him back to their seats. He revelled in their attention, making bawdy jests and laughing.

"Come." Movv Khaia placed a hand on Vínmorr's shoulder. "Take your pick."

Movv Khaia swept a hand outward, gesturing to the other two she-elves. Vínmorr glanced up, but barely allowed his gaze to rest on them. The one on the left looked horrified, as if the thought of spending a night with Vínmorr would be a form of punishment.

"I would prefer to return to my own bed."

"It's already dark. Stay, enjoy some company."

"Listen to him, my friend. I've tried tellin' you, life is more than your infernal beasts and studies. Live a little, Vínmorr. These she-elves know what they're about; they'll treat ya to a good time."

"You're drunk."

"You're missin' so much, Vín." Prochk rose from the chair, a subtle sway making him shuffle to the right. Once steady, he moved to the other two she-elves. "Right, my dears? Show him what he's been missing."

They shrank back. The kherr, however, laughed and grabbed one of the she-elves by the wrist. He dragged her across the short distance and shoved her against Vínmorr. The elandhin steadied the female lest she should fall, and took a step back to regain distance.

Prochk released a grating belt of laughter, which did little to ease Vínmorr's annoyance. Meanwhile, Movv Khaia watched on, revelling in his discomfort.

"Am I now permitted to leave?"

"Very well, you may abstain from the revelry. But I insist you stay here. I'll have a room prepared for you."

Vínmorr had already pushed the limits by refusing Movv Khaia's gift. It would be of no benefit to anger him before they were even sent to the battlefields. "You have my thanks. First, I'll tend my mount."

Movv Khaia smiled, a cold and calculated expression void of joy or humour. "Of course. One should care for his beast, that it may serve him all the better."

Vínmorr bowed – revealing none of the seething rage stirring within him – and left the room. The Elandhin knew the implication behind Khaia's words; he was no more than a beast to be used by its master. There was a warning in the movv's words, too: Vínmorr should be careful of his actions or else be eliminated.

Vínmorr purchased meat from the tavern and returned to Shígra, who was lying exactly where he had left her. She wiggled in excitement. Whether it was from seeing him or the rotting meat in his hand, he did not know.

He fed and sat with her for a while, enjoying the peace and solitude of the night after the chaos of the tavern.

A she-elf's scream and a chorus of laughter drifted from the shuttered windows. The lerecht snored beside him. With a final sigh, Vínmorr stood, stretched his aching back, and returned to the oppressive tavern.

His room was at the end of the hall, as far from any other patrons without being holed up in the single stall at the back of the building. Vínmorr shut the door behind him, leaning against its hard surface.

"How, in Khaman, did I get into this mess?"

Vínmorr pounded his head against the door. His cursed bloodlines would never allow him rest. Was it really so strange for an elandhin to desire peace, solitude, knowledge of things beyond fighting and whoring? No, he had been made for a purpose, and his creator had no concern for his wishes. He was a single scale on the Serpent's hide, praised for its use, but quickly disposed of.

Vínmorr sat on the bed. "Serpent's fang; that's all I get."

Hands reached out and rested upon his shoulders. Something warm pressed itself against his back. "Poor beast."

"By the Snake!" Vínmorr leapt from the bed, disentangling himself from the she-elf's embrace. His heart pounded in his chest. As he faced the shadowed form, she continued to speak with a voice like a clear, mountain stream.

"Your burdens are great. But I can help you forget them for the night."

"Out."

"Your master wanted to reward you for your choice to serve the Serpent."

"Get out." Vínmorr's voice came out as a growl. All the wrath he had been filled with moments before surged again. Though he knew she had been given no say in the matter, Vínmorr felt an itch to harm the she-elf.

"But your master's already paid the fee. Demanded I give you the best treatment."

No longer able to hold back, Vínmorr moved toward the rothnak and gripped her neck in his hand. He could sense her terror in the rapid pounding of her pulse. "That filth is not my master."

"Please..." She coughed, fighting for breath. Her hands clasped Vínmorr's, trying to pry his fingers from her neck. He released her, and the she-elf dropped to the bed, gasping.

Vínmorr pushed away from her, wincing when his shins hit the edge of the bed. He reached for the outline of a candle, fumbled to light it, and finally whisked around to hold its glow against the she-elf.

He faltered.

She was young; probably no more than sixteen summers. Her auburn curls hung about her face and her dark eyes were filled with tears. She was curled up against the wall beside the bed, trembling.

He was overcome with pity. Vínmorr extended his hand, and the girl cried all the more, flinching away from him. He pulled away and retreated to a chair on the opposite side of the room. "Quiet now, child. I won't harm you."

The young she-elf looked at him but did not seem to believe his words.

Vínmorr frowned. "I apologize for hurting you."

"It's not the first time."

While Vínmorr was not altogether surprised by her words, he had not anticipated the jaded tone in which she spoke them. He sighed. "Leave now. I don't need your services."

"But...he told me to stay." She appeared frightened; only this time, her fear did not stem from Vínmorr.

"What did he tell you?"

"Said I must entertain his 'war hound'. Told me if I stay here 'til morning, he'll take me away from this place."

"And if you fail?" Vínmorr felt certain there was something more to Khaia's conditions. He was not surprised, then, when the girl's face paled.

She burst into tears. The girl scrambled to Vínmorr and clung to the fabric at his feet. "Please, don't send me away. I know I'm young, but I'll try my best. Only don't make me leave. I don't want to..." She trailed off. The girl shuddered before continuing. "Or better yet, kill me now. Death'd be better than that fate."

Vínmorr lifted her off the floor and gestured for her to sit on the bed. Clearly, she misunderstood his intentions. The moment she lowered herself onto the mattress, she began lifting the thin fabric covering her bosom. A wave of nausea struck Vínmorr. His head pounded. He turned away from the girl. "Not what I had in mind," he said. "You sleep on the bed; I'll rest here. In the morning you'll be free to leave, and I'll inform Movv Khaia you pleased me."

Vínmorr settled into the chair once more. He crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and settled into quiet. There was a faint rustling of fabric, and knew the girl had finally lain down.

Hours passed. The elandhin drifted in and out of a half-sleep. The girl left the bed in the early hours of the morning. Vínmorr stirred at the sound of her approaching footfalls. He kept his eyes closed, even as her presence warmed the area before him.

There was a rustle as she shifted and drew closer. He forced his expression to remain unchanged, despite his growing discomfort. He could feel the intensity of her eyes studying him.

Come to look at the monster, have you?

For a moment, Vínmorr thought to frighten the girl by speaking or opening his eyes. He almost smiled at the thought. So it was – when she rested her hand upon his and gently kissed his cheek – he felt perplexed and more than a little apologetic.

"Thank you."

Her whispered words held all the torment she had faced in her short life. Vínmorr listened as she glided to the door and left the room.