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The best and worst ideas are made at the bottom of a bottle. --- Kormar Proverb
Karin sat naked on her bed, her back against the headboard and her eyes focused on a spot three feet in front of her. She couldn't sleep despite her aching eyes, her buzz, and the exhaustion that plucked at the back of her head.
It had been two days since she stormed away from Lilard's and she couldn't stop thinking about Lilian. It wasn't fancy dreams of sex and fun, but the countless possibilities of what Tristoh had in mind for her.
He was going to use her. That was too much clear. Nothing in their shared past would hint at love or romance. Even his offer, which had set off a fire of gossip throughout the city, was too large for anything besides one more of his investments.
It had to be Lilian's singing. While she was definitely a beauty, the way her songs brought back memories and ignited emotions. She had a gift, one that Karin could too easily see Tristoh wanting to use for his own profit.
What she didn't know is how. Would he put her on a stage and force her to sing? Would he sell her voice to the highest bidder? Or just rent her out until her eyes were dead and her throat ruined?
Karin pressed her lips tightly together.
Tristoh's next step was to marry her. The ceremony was in a few days. No one seemed to know what would happen after that but she couldn't imagine the rich man moving from his comfortable estates in Tarsan to a muddy town in Kormar. No, he was going to take Lilian away where she had no family, no friends, and no support. She would be helpless.
With a shaking hand, Karin lifted the mug in her hand and sipped at the rotgut that had pooled in the bottom. It was warm and the acrid scents burned her eyes. She closed her eyes to focus on the burn as it ripped down her throat.
She drained the glass. Looking at the bottom for a moment, she reached out for the bottle but stopped when she noticed it was empty. Her half-eaten dinner sat next to it, the bronze plate bright in the candlelight and a fork resting on the edge.
Annoying at Lilian's struggle, she set down her glass on the table and picked up the plate. She was surprised that the inn had metal plates, but it was fortunate for her. With a tap, she emptied the contents into the garbage can by the bed before bringing the plate to her lap.
With a smile, she thought about the metal serving trays at the bakery. As she did, she felt the edge began to warp as the beveled edge flattened into a sharp edge. She didn't need any pressure or even to touch it, metal sharpened with her thoughts. Absently, she ran her finger and enjoyed the makeshift blade. She continued to sharpen the metal until the entire rim was a killing blade. Karin continued to focus on it as she sharpened it even further, honing the blade to the point where the bronze itself couldn't get any narrower.
"Fucking asshole," she muttered. Gripping the plate carefully, she drew back and threw the plate at the wall with all her might.
The bronze disk sliced into the wall. It plunged deep into the plaster and wood; with a blade so sharp, it didn't need much strength to bury it. The plate vibrated from the impact.
She smiled as she listened to the ringing. Her ability to sharpen blades in the middle of the fight made her a valuable member of the Rat Hunters. Without her, the armored beasts they fought would dull or nick the blades in only a few strikes.
Too bad it was murder if she attacked Tristoh. But it would be defense if she wasn't the one who initiated the fight.
A bad idea came to mind.
She smiled. It was time to go back to Lilard's.