“I curse you, Prince Brendan,” shouted Sienna. Not a niddering, simpering maid or a tyro in the world of magic, she locked eyes with Prince Brendan and spat at him. She struggled against her captors to free her hands, but the men held on tight. Her anger allowed her to complete her bane without gestures. Her auburn hair spilled across her face as she bent her head forward to take a deep breath.
“You faithless dog.” Sienna spat at Brendan’s bare feet.
His black hair in disarray, he still looked enticing to Sienna, especially in his nakedness. She would teach him to spurn her.
“Down on the ground with you and spend the rest of your life sniffing for the love you crave the way you sniffed after me.” Sienna cackled, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She collapsed in the arms of the soldiers. A roan colored bitch lay in their grasp. The guards fled when a black dog sniffed at her tail. The man, Prince Brendan, no longer occupied the room.
This incident faithfully recorded by Brogan, amanuensis to Emperor Emyr.
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