...exposed his left boot to Marron’s swatting paw, but the old bear only struck the ground beside it and puffed in the ringmaster’s face.

And simply done! – And, quite satisfied with her morning’s business, Khoreia strolled like a high-summer tourist. She even batted her pretty eyes at one of the King’s shining soldiers that she or her brother might kill in ambush some other time. But not this fine morning. Not now that she could keep the beargirl for herself.

But. Not even midday. Upstairs at the Pig and Bee. Exercising a restraint she did not guess she possessed, rather than shrieking, Khoreia sat on the edge of the reeking bed, for the moment merely surveying the small room empty but for herself.