"Call me the mistress."

      That was the appropriate name he could call her. He hadn't thought of another name. He couldn't had used any other. What would he had said? His expectations were severed. He wasn't king over them. He was to make a chain of choices and that of course who make a mole outta a molehill. Probably when she arrived he'd fleshen his contention. But he knew he'd want more from her. Probably feed his pored pleasure. Or when had he become a grievous sin to suit what was made right to the sewn sense? Probably some religious codes wouldn't cowtow. But that didn't matter to him. There were more things to revere.

       Two days ago, he'd gotten to the fort in a haste to ascertain whether or not truly she'd locate it. Getting to the fort, he'd asked some of the gladiators who he accosted if a strange or new lady came to the fort. Or whether or not the

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