3
“So if I tame him, you will let us go?” I asked my dark-haired captor the next day. He seemed in a playful mood, presenting my breakfast with a flourish, calling me “milady.” He even brought me flowers. As if I could be charmed by a few blooms.
“Perhaps,” he said with a wolfish grin. “Perhaps you will not want to go.”
My glare spoke my answer. He just laughed.
I rose to my feet, cheeks ruddy with anger. “You must take me to my sisters. I want to see for myself that they are safe and well cared for.”
“My men are keeping them safe. I visited them just before dawn, and I give you my word--”
“I do not care for the word of a man who’s chained me in the lair of a beast. You have no honor.”
His smile fled, leaving a cold look on his rawboned face.
“Tread lightly, little witch.”
“Do no
