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Suddenly she leapt on man, coiling on his shoulder, her hot breath like wet poison air on his neck.
Karayan sighed in mild exasperation.  “Darling, there is no need for such actions.  I’d never lay a hand on you, you’re being unreasonable.”
The creature made a soft growling noise.
“No, I am not lying,” the vetala retorted, sounding somewhat affronted.  “Not everyone is out to get you, my dear.  You can’t just attack every person you come across, that is a very poor way to make friends.”
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“In either direction you go you will both have an equal chance of finding it. Good luck. Your first clue will be within the doors.”
Þorunn’s eyes darkened at the announcement.  Her Pawns had left the room for various purposes so she was alone for the moment; a bout of anger seized her and she hurled a glass at the opposite wall, shattering it and scattering shards across the room.
Startled, one of her Pawns reentered the room.  “Madam, what was that?”
“Frustration,” Þorunn said bluntly.  “This castle irks me.”
The Pawn chuckled lightly.  “Oh, throwing a temper tantrum anytime the castle challenges you will do you no good,” she said chidingly.  “You’ll never win that way.”
“Yes, thank you,” the shieldmaiden murmured curtly.  Behind her back, out of view of the irritating Pawn, she crushed another glass with her hand and selected a large piece.  “I truly had no idea.”  As she spoke the shard of glass sailed through the air, narrowly missing the Pawn’s eye and instead cutting a furrow just above her ear.
Reflexively, the Pawn covered the cut with her hand.  Terror crossed her features as her fingers came away warm and wet.  “M-madam, what-?”
“Never patronize me again,” Þorunn told her flatly.  The shieldmaiden turned sharply on her heel and burst into the main hall to find whoever Chantara and Connel were.  She did not look forward to working with the overgrown catty troll called Karayan.

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