"I don't belong to anyone," she hissed, also rising to her feet but moving the wooden chair in front of her, the cup full of hot tea clutched in one hand. "I'm not your slave, and you will not touch me again--markings or no markings."
Her body was tensed, waiting. A chair, a cup of tea, and possibly the fire from the fireplace were her only possible weapons in this scenario. On his side he had everything she had, plus his monstrosities, plus his magic which was capable of doing who-knew-what. Either way, the odds were horribly against her, a fact that she was very much aware of.
"And I'm not a whore, you have no idea what my people are like. They'll accept me no matter what," she said, though she knew it was all untrue. She could no longer be accepted as a warrior in their eyes, especially if she came back while with child.
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