Tamara studied them both, her gaze switching from one to the other, and she saw Wild Edric draw his short sword from a belt of gold around his waist. He was not a ghost like those Tamara knew, but a man cursed to be nothing but a spectre until his services as a warrior were needed once more. The fingers he flexed around the hilt of that short sword had felt solid enough on Tamara's skin, and she knew the blade would be no less effective. But it was not meant for her.
""As a matter of fact, I have run out of girls in Blackbriar-" he began.
"Oh, that's enough!" Tamara snapped. "You just shut your mouth!"
Never in her life had she spoken that way to anyone but her brother. But Wild Edric had gone too far.
"Quiet, you little strumpet," Godda hissed, marching at Tamara with her sword. "Sorceress or no, this doesn't concern you. Not any more. You're just one more blood stain now."
Before Tamara could say another word the Faerie Princess attacked. Her
