Greta stirred awake, dragged back into the world as if against her will. Her head felt heavy, and for a moment she wasn't sure where she was. A ceiling of ivory-colored fabric embroidered with faint golden thread greeted her eyes, an opulent tent, far too lavish for a battlefield camp.
A small lantern flickered in the corner, its flame low and steady. Outside, muffled voices carried, the soldiers' footsteps, the grind of armor, the hushed bark of restrained commands. Dawn hadn't fully broken yet, and Greta's mind reeled back to what she had done with Matthias the night before.
She drifted, staring blankly at the ceiling. It wasn't the first time she'd given herself away. In her past life, Dietrich had stolen her innocence with cruelty and scorn, treating her like nothing more than a woman sold off by her family to serve as a concubine.
