Frustration increased to fury when the man atop the table sicced the other men on them and Navia’s attention immediately jumped over to them at the same time Théadan spoke to them. They did not seem to care about what he said and she had to wonder if they all even understood what he’d said. One of them must have, for their leader had spoken in the common tongue and they’d reacted, but none of them answered Théadan’s point he was not a threat to them. They likely didn’t care and only wanted revenge on any Mes’Mo’Tanian, not caring whom that Mes’Mo’tanian was. She could tell Théadan was preparing for the confrontation too, his stance becoming tenser and his positioning obviously an attempt to keep the men from her. She didn’t like it, didn’t like any of it, and glanced around the room for another option than conflict. “Théadan, don’t—“ Navia started to say after he threatened to break the hands that touched her, but the advancing men had taken action.<br/><br/>“Théadan!” Navia gasped as she watched in shock as he took on the four men. She knew he was superbly trained despite his kind and gentle demeanor, was confident he could take on any of those men, but actually seeing him so efficiently dispatch their new foes was still surprising. She’d seen him fight before, but never so many people at once. It almost appeared effortless until they were all toppling over a table and landing in a wrestling pile. Empowered at seeing the Mes’Mo’Tanian having fallen onto the floor, more men were leaving the bar to join in on the fun and Navia knew something had to be done. Wanting to at least try dragging people away, she started forward, only for her upper arm to be grabbed.<br/><br/>Having jumped down from the table to collect his part of the plan, the Khluri ex-soldier sneered down at her and gave her arm a harsh tug to pull her away from the tussle, further separating her from Théadan. It sent a wave of panic through her; the very thought of someone managing to separate them making her queasy and fearful. “Release me,” Navia demanded scathingly despite the terror that leaped into her mind, turning to face her attacker head-on as his other hand clamped down on her jaw to hold her still. His dark eyes were slightly lighter than her own, his skin similarly so, and he leered down at her with an unsettling expression of lust and hate in his eyes, completely ignoring her hands trying to push him away. He forced a kiss upon her, the disgust apparent on her face as she tried to twist away.<br/><br/>“We heard you last night,” the man laughed at her, smugly looking in Théadan’s direction in hopes he wasn’t too busy not to notice what he was doing, “We know you give yourself freely to that man. It’s time you learn you only give yourself to your own kind, starting with—“ He suddenly groaned when Navia’s knee connected with his groin, his hold on her tightening as he fought his way through the pain it brought him and she tried to wrench away. “<i>Vezya!</i>” He yelled in her face, hand forcing her to look up at him, “Who do you think you are that you can deny me what I want?”<br/><br/>It was then she remembered, while she hatefully glared at yet another arrogant man who thought her to be a plaything, that she was no longer in a country that would ridicule her title. “A Thakur,” Navia answered loudly so the others would hear, “Who do<i>you</i>think you are that you dare touch me?”<br/><br/>The man released her instantly, eyes wide as he took a step back, hands rising up in surrender, “Thakur? But—not the<i>Mahesi</i>…?”<br/><br/>“<i>Sitvati?</i>” Another man’s voice questioned from the bar, drunken eyes owlish on his own scarred face, clearly another ex-soldier, “Stolen away to Mes’Mo’Tan…and he’s…a Mes’Mo’Tanian!”<br/><br/>It changed the energy of the entire room. Hate had been apparent, the air thick with tension and the threat of violence. Confusion was now rampant, with many of the men rising up from the floor and away from Théadan to stare blankly at her. Some of them were murmuring to each other in Khluri, others lifting their hands to rest over their hearts in a sign of allegiance to the crown, a couple even dropping to a knee. She’d been told before the mere uttering of the royal name would grant her safety, but she’d never seen it happen or been in a situation to try. Navia cared for none of the attention it brought, but was willing to take advantage of the sudden stillness of the room. She hurried forward to Théadan, wanting to help him from the floor. “Let’s go,” she urged quietly, worriedly looking him over to try to see if he had been injured, “Hurry, before they get over their shock.”