"Are you a virgin, girl?" Moragon asked.

"Yes, High Lord," Amber said.

All of her hopes rested on him believing her.

"And where are you from?"

"I'm from Altura, High Lord."

"Ah." Moragon grinned. "An Alturan girl. This pleases me, knowing I will be taking one of the enemy."

Amber's heart raced. She had to do this, she reminded herself. It was the only way. She had seen the promise of death in Hugo's eyes.

Moragon leaned back in his chair. "Come yet closer, Amber of Altura," he said.

Amber moved forward until the desk was barely a pace in front of her. The melding had yellowed eyes, she could see now. It made him look feverish. His teeth were sharp and jutted in different directions.

"How much are you worth, Amber of Altura?"

"High Lord?"

"How much did they pay for you?"

"They… they said I would be given more food, and warm blankets, and the guards wouldn't trouble me, and I wouldn't be taken to wherever the others are disappearing to."

"And you shall have all that," Moragon said.

Amber inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She had accomplished one of the things she had come here for.

"Provided you please me, of course."

"I will, High Lord," Amber's voice trembled.

"So, a proud Alturan girl — for I can see you are proud, Amber — gives herself to the enemy for nothing more than some scraps of food and a blanket to keep her warm at night. It's good to know Alturans value themselves so little."

"Yes, High Lord," Amber said.

"Remove your shoes and your dress," said Moragon, still sitting at his desk.

Amber heard the command like a stone hitting her stomach. Lord of the Sky, she could do this. She kicked off her shoes, and then slipped the strap from her left shoulder, followed by the right. Swallowing, she reached down and pulled the bottom half of her dress up to her hips, revealing the small scrap of white underwear she wore underneath. She then gathered the dress and pulled it up and over her head, letting it fall to the ground.

Amber heard Moragon's breath catch as she hung her head, her eyes closed, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her bared breasts. It was cold in the tent, and she felt her nipples stiffen.

She opened her eyes. Moragon started intently at her, his eyes travelling up and down her form, from her calves, up to her thighs, at the white undergarment that covered the area between her wide hips at the fork of her legs. His gaze ran over her flat belly and narrow waist to the pink nipples at the tip of her breasts. He finally looked into Amber's eyes.

"Turn around," Moragon said. "Let me get a good look at you."

Amber slowly turned.