Nargazor

[Nora Saint-Clair]

The name sounded Aiel. It wasn’t that interesting a name either, until he suggested she could call him whatever she desired. That made her pause and look a second time at him. There were hints of beauty. A fine jaw. A muscular body, but the eyes were too flat for her preference. He was a husk of a man; all darkness, all violence. While the edge of danger and power was always a thrill to Lythia, she liked some spark in her men. A spark of passion, if that passion was for her all the better, but passion for anything would do. Plus, this one was quite battle-worn. She did like a man more beautiful than rugged. Then again, at least he was better to look at than Amogorath; though as she glanced at the nearby Chosen, she admitted that wasn’t saying much.

But what ground he earned was quickly lost by the follow up question. “What should you call me?” She scoffed, trying to decide exactly how offended she was. How would one of the other Chosen handle such disrespect? Did this dread lord not know her identity? The longer she examined his face, she wondered if perhaps he was actually ignorant of her identity. In the end, she decided not to just slice his throat then and there and offer a second chance. “You should call me ‘My Lady’, “Chosen’, or ‘Lady Sylvena’” She lifted a brow, awaiting proper deference and apologies while she decided how he might entertain her.