Shammara gathered a large handful of the princess’s long hair and yanked down on it hard. Princess Oma’s head was jerked back so she looked straight up into Shammara’s eyes with her throat completely exposed. She started to cry out, but stopped when she saw the cold glare of Shammara above her.
“Now you will listen to me, O pampered cat of a mixed litter,” Shammara said in the same quiet, icy tones. “Your opinion of my son is your own affair, though it could scarcely be lower than mine of you. Your lower-class, harping complaints and petty tyranny show a lack of intelligence and breeding which I trust you’ll correct. Whether you love him or not, whether you honor him as a husband, is your concern and I will not interfere. But I’ve worked long and hard to arrange this marriage, and it will
