Rashali’s heart pounded; finally she would learn what her fate was to be. During the last two days, she had wanted only to find out, just to get it over with, but all at once she wished she could go on wondering a little longer. Delaying the knowledge wouldn’t change her fate, though; the only thing she could do was face it. “I assume that if you meant to imprison me or put me to death, I wouldn’t be in that room. Therefore it seems more likely that you mean to make me a slave or a concubine, though it would seem strange for a slave to be given such a room.”
“A concubine, then. Is that what I should do with you?”
Her face burned, and she found herself shaking; whether more from anger or fear, she couldn’t tell. “I’d rather die than be made a harlot.”
“Would you really?”
She didn’t want to die, but there was no other possible answer when being given such a choice. Her heart pounded harder, and she swallowed as she tried to gather her courage to say yes.