““But she couldn’t help glancing at the rug before the desk—a movement Arobynn either noted or expected. “A new rug,” he said, looking up from the papers before him. “The bloodstains on the other one never really came out.” “Pity,” she said, slumping into one of the chairs before his desk, trying not to look at the chair beside hers, where Sam had usually sat. “The other rug was prettier.” Until her blood had soaked it when Arobynn had beaten her for ruining his slave trade agreement, making Sam watch the entire time. And when she was unconscious, he’d beaten Sam into oblivion, too.””
