Heena tilted her chin up slightly, letting the faint crimson light from the high balcony lanterns above catch the razor-sharp curve of her smirk.
"If you break my legs tonight, the Madam gives you a pat on the shoulder and maybe fifty extra coppers to buy bandaging cloth," Heena whispered. "If you stand back, keep your hands off your clubs, and fetch me a clean cushion when I visit this alley next week... you eat meat from my table instead of chewing on salted beef tendons in the dark. Think carefully about whose dog you want to be when that door opens."
The three thugs stared at her, completely thrown off balance.
