“Wait!” 
			           
			Mattox stopped in 
			his tracks and tried to smother the smile coming over him. By the 
			time she caught up with him, he was able to present his stern face 
			to her. 
			           
			“I think we’ve 
			gotten off on the wrong foot.” She stopped less than a yard away 
			from him. Holding out her hand, she identified herself. “Let’s start 
			over, shall we? I’m Caralas Edge, Battle Princess of Vega City.” 
			           
			
			
			“Princess?” 
			The word came out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop 
			himself. Worse, his next comment made him sound even more like an 
			idiot. “You’re Edge’s daughter?” 
			           
			She batted her 
			eyes a few times in confusion. “Well, yes. What did you think… Oh!” 
			Caralas laughed, amused by his misconception. “I hope you meant that 
			as a compliment.” 
			           
			“In what way?” 
			           
			“You thinking my 
			father married a woman half his age, and not that I was some gold 
			digger trying to cash in on a battle lord’s position.” 
			           
			He lifted an 
			eyebrow at her. “To be perfectly honest, the second possibility 
			never crossed my mind.” 
			           
			She scoffed at his 
			remark. “Are you telling me you’ve never encountered a battle lord 
			with a pretty young wife who wasn’t using her position for her own 
			vainglory?” 
			 
			           
			“Personally? No.” 
			           
			The woman accepted 
			his answer. Unfortunately, his next comment only made matters worse. 
			           
			“But I’m sure 
			there are princesses out there who are just as guilty of doing the 
			same thing.” 
			           
			That spark of 
			anger returned to her eyes, and she pressed her lips together to 
			form a thin line of rage. He wondered about her next action, 
			debating if she’d go stomping off in a huff, or stand her ground and 
			continue to verbally battle it out. 
			           
			Her hand came up 
			and slapped the side of his face full-on. It was the one tactic he 
			hadn’t expected, and it caught him by complete surprise. But what 
			surprised him more was the fact that his first instinctive move was 
			not to strike back. Instead, he walked past her, toward the square 
			where the merchants were preparing for the day and influx of 
			visitors. He no longer cared if she followed him or not. 
			           
			He kept going, 
			ignoring the cries bidding him hello, welcome, and good day as he 
			continued past them. He had no idea where he was going. The walking 
			felt good. Cleansing, almost. 
			  
			           
			Reaching the 
			second gate which separated the main part of the compound from the 
			smaller, adjacent one, he passed through, still ignoring the hails 
			from the soldiers and others who spotted him. No one said anything 
			about him not returning their well wishes. They were used to his 
			temperament, and brushed it off, especially when he wore that 
			bright, red-eyed glare, and knew they were not the cause of his 
			anger. Long ago, the populace had learned that whenever the battle 
			prince was in a fit, he took it out on no one. Instead, he usually 
			went to the practice field and vented on one of the poor dummies. 
			           
			He’d almost 
			reached the outer gate when he realized someone was behind him. 
			Coming to a sudden stop, he whirled around to discover Caralas had 
			been tailing him since they’d left the square. “What do you want?” 
			he demanded, not caring how she took it. To her credit, she didn’t 
			back down. 
			           
			“I want to talk to 
			you.” 
			           
			“About what? I 
			thought you already made it clear you took offense to what I said.” 
			           
			“I did.” She 
			nodded once. “But after thinking about…what I did, I think I 
			misconstrued what you meant. You weren’t talking about me, were 
			you?” She took a step closer. “Were you?” 
			           
			“No. Now go back 
			to your father. I’m sure he won’t appreciate you keeping company 
			with D’Jacques’ Mutah son.” 
			           
			That seemed to 
			touch a nerve. “My father has no say-so over my actions, my 
			thoughts, or my intentions. Nor do I pay attention to what he has to 
			say about the friends or company I keep.” 
			           
			Mattox made no 
			attempt to contain his snort of derision. “I bet he has many 
			sleepless nights, worrying about you, then.” 
			           
			“As a matter of 
			fact, he does.” She motioned toward the outer gate. “Where does that 
			lead to?” 
			           
			“The practice 
			field.” 
			           
			“May I come with 
			you?” 
			           
			“It hasn’t stopped 
			you so far.”