Nacht snorted and pranced behind her, his dark eyes rolling. The scent of blood was still unfamiliar to him and his instinct was to flee, but his stronger training was to stay close to the predator he knew as protector. A compromised was reached in his retreat from the trio, closer to the edge of the village where he could flee. The horse was of no concern to Salvia now—he would not flee Salsola, having never gone outside of it. Her attention was solely on the woman under her body and the shape coming towards her.
There was instinct in her too. Traitor hands reacted before she could stop herself, striking out and grappling with her mother’s thin wrists. She did not see if she stopped the blow to the slave. A part of her did not care. Green eyes glazed over with battle fury, but there was a pressing and terrible intelligence in them as well. “Not anymore,” Salvia hissed. She took a bold step forward, putting herself between the Auxiliary and the slave. Her stance remained solid, loose. The last time she had fought she had nearly died, and she felt no fear. She could not, now that she had looked upon her own mortality.
“Take another,” the Arbiter went on. “She’s mine now.”
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