’ Teare’s voice spoke softly over the wind. He had lowered it so that it was meant for her ears only. ‘I don’t, after all it is what I am now.’ He nodded but he didn’t take his eyes off of her. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘I’m alive.’ She said with a shrug, trying to feign indifference that her body just didn’t feel. She was not ok, not by any means. But she didn’t have the luxury to wallow on all of her misfortunes. Things had gone from one disaster to another, but she was still alive, and she should be grateful for that. She stopped playing with the dragon buckle. She was afraid that Teare might see her fondness of it. It was the only item that reminded her that there was still beauty in the world. It was also the closest she had come to receiving a gift in years, even though it was not hers to keep. ‘He really didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that.’ Harriot looked at Teare, it seemed to really matter to him that Ivar had upset her. He cared about what Harriot would think of. Another recruit had died at the hands of Sergeant-Major Blondell: he'd had a psychotic break and foolishly tried to kill the Amazonian black-belt. That meant she also now had a fifth female concubine, who was even more traumatized than the others as she'd seen him kill her sister-concubine. Samantha had recommended that the Colonel have some officer drag Butch over to the Officers' Mess and get her dead drunk. Greg, Butch's male concubine, came over and picked her up after she had consumed the requisite amount of alcohol. At least all of these newly unassigned concubines were solo – none had a dependant to worry about, being three more cases of low-scoring sponsors thinking with their little head instead of their big head when picked up.Samantha was rapidly learning about life and her fellow human beings. Some people, she had discovered, were just not very nice.And in the week following the big party at the Beauty Saloon to welcome in the new Filles du Roi, a number of the ladies,.
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