If anyone had anything to say against this statement, their tongues hid behind their teeth from a single glance at Yvenna's furious face. I, not intimidated, but more interested now, inspected her with refreshed eyes.
She had a lean, muscular build, only half-hidden by the leather armour and the simple clothes she wore. Another part of her skin was covered by bandages—places where she was wounded yesterday—but not much. Most of her wounds were bruises, and these she didn't hide, letting them pepper her skin with greens and blues. Even so, she was beautiful—like any woman with all limbs in place, not half-starved and with a face that one didn't need to put a sack on. If only the prettiest women didn't tend to have the worst personalities… And men were so rarely interested without a lot of coercion…
