The Shark got on the nearest horse that belonged to him, once outside the inn, and against his better judgement, he pressed in his heels and set the animal off on top speed.

Shira had been the one locked in, but he was the one feeling caged. Honor had never restrained him in the past, the way the sight of Shira’s tears restrained him. She seemed a gentle flower, innocent, pure, one he was tainting with his crude methods and devices.

She was also a warrior – a human and female no doubt, but she had been trained in the art of war. He could not fault her swordplay, and...