Frisha began to wonder how much money Rezkin really had and where he’d gotten it. She and Tam had concluded that Rezkin probably had very little to his name. Frisha truly hoped he was not spending everything he had on her. She worried, now, that Rezkin might think he had to buy her love to try to keep her from marrying a noble.

After gathering the wet clothes they had washed in the creek, the two young women began walking along the bank back toward camp. When they came around the bend, their forward motion came to an abrupt halt. Frisha thought it had to be the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Thick, cut muscles curved around a graceful, fluid form. The warrior turned slightly away, and she could just barely make out the slight dip between the muscular cheeks of his backside peeking above the water. His silky black mane, now wet, clung to ridged muscles flexing beneath, and rivulets of water ran down the dips and valleys of his back. The warrior turned toward them as he scrubbed at his other side, and she could make out a light dusting of black curls across his chest that trailed a line down his carved, taut abdomen to the water. Muscles clenched and rolled as he contorted about in his ministrations, and his pale skin shone in the sun like the personification of a god carved in alabaster.

Frisha was mesmerized. Reaylin was, as well. Neither girl could take her eyes off the sight until Reaylin opened her mouth. “Now, that’s something worth fighting for,” the self-proclaimed warrior declared.

Frisha scowled over at her. “You stay away from him. He’s not yours.”

Reaylin laughed, “He’s not yours, yet. Until you are married, he is fair game.” The girl laughed again and said, “Actually, a man like that never really belongs to one woman. He could get any woman he wants, whether he marries or not. Do you really think he’ll be satisfied with just you?” Reaylin gave Frisha a disdainful look that told Frisha exactly what Reaylin thought of her.

Frisha screamed and launched herself at Reaylin. Reaylin was completely unprepared for the sudden violence emanating from the pretty little pretentious prat and lost her balance. Both women tumbled into the creek, but their anger and animosity toward one another did not abate. Somehow, whether it was the circumstances leading to the fight, the mind-numbing rage, or basic female nature, neither girl remembered to employ any of the fighting techniques they had learned. The confrontation devolved into a brawl of slapping, scratching and hair pulling. Reaylin got one good shot at Frisha, socking her in the eye. Frisha scored deep gouges that stretched nearly from Reaylin’s jaw to collar bone.