ETAN
Etan's ears rang suddenly, his pulse throbbing in his head. Images flashed in his head of Ayleth, opening her arms to her mother, only to receive a knife between her ribs. "Y-you can't be serious. You would kill your own daughter?"
"I would happily kill her if my only remaining choice is to leave her with you. I will not see her made… Summitran," she spewed the word as if it tasted foul. "I will not see her provide you an heir! Do not try me, you childish pup. Do not convince yourself that I am not ruthless enough to do it."
"I do not doubt your ruthlessness," Etan snarled. "I hoped that your love for your daughter would outweigh your hate."
"Then you are almost as naïve as my daughter. And you would do well to learn from me: I foresaw this day, or one like it. From the day you attempted to take her, I have prepared."
"Prepared what?" he demanded. "What vile work have you done?"
