“I am going to kill you for this,” Sima muttered a little while later, as they stood in a Dwarali practice yard, curious horsemen watching as Raziya strung her bow. A few maids had gathered to the side, and a group of Dwarali women were milling about. They carried bows of their own, and one of them had set herself the task of setting up the target. “Or shave off your eyebrows. Something unpleasant, you wait and see.” “Think of it this way. You never would have done this as a maidservant.” “Both eyebrows. And your hair,”
