“They’re beautiful, are they not? Pure white hair and made for pleasure. We only feed them once a day; they’re far too weak to fight. The princess would be utterly safe.” Slödava. Elma had seen the elusive northern men before, captured spies and assassins from that remote enemy enclave. Slödava was a city-state swathed in shadow and ice, a place that Elma might not have believed existed at all were it not for the prisoners she’d seen.
