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am Bry’aan Dufeur, defender of Awisha. We have reports of fifteen missing women. How many others are there who have no one to report their disappearance?”
    Another defender raised his hand. “Daffyd Soduur, defender of Mikkant. My world knows of twenty missing. Again, how many are there who have no one to grieve for them?”
    Marti looked at the only other defender she knew. “What of your world, Ga’brial? How many women have gone missing?”
    Ga’brial leaned back in his chair, his expression grim. “Too many. Our count is higher than most others at forty-five.”
    Marti knew from experience that there were hundreds of imprisoned women on Katkari. Women the men of that world had stolen from their homes, their families and their lives. How many could go home and live as though nothing had happened? The way she saw it, none of them could. Marti didn’t know if she could ever feel normal again.
    She shivered at the thought that she could have been married to someone on Katkari years ago. She could have had children who would have tied her to that world. How could she ever leave a child to live there without her love and guidance?
    That was the real trap and the men of that world knew it. If they could impregnate a woman, she would stay willingly for the rest of her life. What woman could ever bear to leave her children behind on such a backward world?
    She rubbed her arms with a shiver. Just the thought gave her goose bumps. Kyl, on her left, removed his light jacket and wrapped it around her.
    Marti fought the urge to pull it tight against her and take a deep breath. She inhaled the spicy scent as his residual warmth seeped into her. What was it about his smell alone that made her stomach clench and heat settle in her womb?
    He was handsome, yes, but he was also arrogant. She could see that by the way he treated his servants. He didn’t treat them badly, he just treated them with the air of a man with a sense of entitlement.
    Glancing at her brother, she realized that Artu had that same bearing and wondered if she, too, had felt so superior because of her standing as a defender’s daughter and the new defender’s sister. She hoped not. Now that she had lived on the other side of the master and servant coin, she could see how much of a pain in the ass she had been.
    That would never happen again. Now that she was under her brother’s protection again, she would remember to thank those who served her. She would also remember that they were people, too. They were people with lives outside of their work, with families who needed to see them more often and they were people who deserved to work to live, not live to work as so many of the upper classes seemed to think.
    What were the upper class anyway? They had money and a sense of entitlement that made her ill. They were people, just like her, like the servants they disparaged. Money didn’t make a person better. A good person was a good person because of who they were, not because of their affluence. No amount of gold could make a jerk anything but a rich jerk. It hadn’t taken Marti long to figure that one out.
    Another glance at Kylar caught him staring at her. Marti’s cheeks burned with mortification. Had he watched her shoveling her food into her mouth like some sort of burly construction worker?
    Turning, her head, she looked toward her brother with the hope that he didn’t see her face turning red. The last thing she wanted was for the man to think that she cared what he thought about her. She didn’t give a damn what the Fates said, Kylar was too arrogant. He was not the person for her.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Kyl watched Marti’s face redden as she turned away from him. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek and she froze.
    “You’re red. I think you might have a fever. It is not uncommon for someone who is dehydrated, such as yourself.” He frowned down into her face as he searched her gaze. He refilled her glass. “Perhaps you should have more to