Well before dawn, Hessa opened her eyes and groaned. She didn’t want to slip from the heated blanket. In its embrace she imagined she was still in her dream, safe, loved, precious to someone. But rise she did. She washed the sleep from her eyes and pulled on fresh clothes-a simple dress of unbleached cloth, and underbreeches. She slipped on her leather shoes. In the cracked looking glass she examined the scars on the side of her face as she combed through her black hair. Her skin was darker than most from spending midday in the sun, raking up the animal dung behind the pits. Her teeth were bright and white when she smiled. Hessa tied off the braid in her hair and took a deep breath, hopeful at what this morning would bring.

She went to the kitchen stores to fill her bags of food for the prisoners. The cooks were busy preparing for the day’s festivities to feed the crowd that always came to watch the fights. Men against men, men against monsters, it was whatever appeased the bloodthirsty populace of Bisura, and already being murderers, that task proved a daily challenge.

The sun rested just beyond the horizon when she stepped into the hall of cells. She passed out her food and hurried down into the darkness. All of the men there were still asleep-save one. Her warrior rose from his pallet and came to stand at the bars to greet her.

“Hessa,” he whispered, a smile parting his lips. He reached out his hand to her, and she set the bread in his palm. His other hand shot through the bars to cup her cheek. “Did you dream last night?”

She nodded.

“Of me?” he asked, his voice devilish.

She blushed and pulled out the cheese. He took that as well and set both provisions on the small table in his cell. When he returned to her, Gunnar reached through the bars that parted them and threaded the fingers of his left hand with hers. Heat spread through her from his touch, radiating in her body, and waking her completely to his presence. She breathed deep and smelled his scent, warm and musky.