Upon the mountain of mutilated demons butchered like cattle, Reina sat like a goddess of war, stained as red as her hair. Her golden eyes fixed upon Laros on one knee, too weak to stand. She stood in her contempt, stunning without flaw. She slid down the bodies on a severed gnoll arm and trailed past him.
Panting and gasping, his lungs ablaze by hardship, Laros pushed down on his sword to aid him up.
"Eight months, and this is all you can do," Reina expressed without much regard. She left, returning to her pavilion to the hot bath Talia had prepared for her. Scorching hot, Ren couldn't have torn off her armor fast enough as she sunk in, blissfully moaning a breath of relief.
"Gods, I needed this," Ren hooted, cresting her head against the wooden rim of her tub.
Treading her finger through her hair, Talia began untangling her matted hair. "Are you missing, Master? It's been about a week since they went to meet up with the Sword of the King."
