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it.
    I liked less the look on the Liaison’s face. I turned from him and knelt before the low chest beneath the windows. In it were the clothes I had brought with me from Astria. I stripped off the jerkin and threw it aside. The silence screamed its message. I freed my hair, and it fell around me.
    I rummaged in the chest, finding at last what I sought—a comb and two gold clips, and a length of embroidered Koster silk.
    These I laid beside me on the pile rug. I sat on my heels, naked, and with the comb I went to work on my ratted hair. Through the curtain of its strands I saw M’lennin’s booted feet appear in front of me.
    “M’len—” I said, before his hand twisted in my hair and pushed my head hard to the floor between my knees. I felt with my hands for him, but he caught them up behind my back.
    “Did you think I would give you the chance?” he, growled as he used me so brutally I cried out. “Did you think I would wait while you read my mind and manipulated me, while you witched me again? No. This time you will take what I see fit to give you, my way.”
    It did not last very long. When he let me go, I rolled over and looked up at him. To use a Silistran woman so that the precious sperm is wasted is a great insult. I would have, had he wished it, made love with him. He had not wished it. It had been painful, the more so because I could not move to ease him.
    He stood above me, already buckling his gold-studded belt. I would not give him more satisfaction. If I could have avoided it, I would not have cried out.
    “I know the way to the dining hall,” I said. “I will meet you there.”
    He looked down at me as I lay there, on my back on the Torth pelt. For a moment I thought he would speak. Instead, he turned on his heel and in three strides was out of the room, slapping the lock without looking back.
    “Have I hurt you so deeply, M’len?” I asked softly of the empty room. It appeared that I had. I explored myself with my hand, and finding no blood, rolled to my feet.
    As I made my way into the adjoining washroom, I picked from the pile of silk my bone comb. In the shower I attacked my ratted hair section by section. When it was tangle-free, I lathered my body and leaned back, letting the steaming spray run long over my aching buttocks.
    I flipped the knob that controlled the shower’s temperature, holding my breath as the icy needles struck.
    The cold was invigorating, but it did not cool my inner heat. I was still much aroused. I smiled to myself, thinking of M’len. I hadn’t thought him capable of such ferocity. That was my mistake. It lies waiting in all men. I had made the novice’s error of allowing my conception of the man to blind me to his needs.
    No one is perfect, I decided as I padded on squishing feet back into the apartment. It had turned out the better for my surprise. By surrendering control of the situation, by expressing my pain and humiliation, I had gained an edge. And perhaps I could exploit it.
    I stood on the Torth pelt wringing my hair dry. The smell of the room, of star steel and damp clean body, of my own need, excited me.
    Finally I was dripped dry enough to dress. I wound the Koster silk, all embroidered in gem tones, around my body, and clipping two ends at the neck and the others at my hip, drew it taut over my breasts and hips. Then I regarded myself in the mirror behind the couch. My skin gleamed from the needle spray of the shower. I tingled all over. My image reassured me. Even with my hair still damp, and parted simply, I looked well. There were no toilet maids to dress me here. I would have to get used to caring for my own needs. I had done it in the past. I reached back and took the curling mass of my hair where it fell over my hips and squeezed once more. The drops ran down my legs and dripped on the rug.
    I inspected my reflection once again. Good enough, I thought, and tossed the bone comb on the couch. The rust silk set me off to my best advantage. There