Eira worked one of her arms free and her hand flew on its own to connect with his cheek as he mentioned her father and Lord Bennington. It crossed his face with a satisfying smack, but as soon as that clap was over, a stinging-ache overtook her palm. Shock set in a moment later, because this was not the sort of action she usually engaged in, but the way he had spoke of the dead and Lord Bennington, as if she had chosen to come here, stoked some fire with in her.<br/><br/>"Rough and nearly murdered are two different things.  And do not speak of my father as if you knew him well.  Don't speak to me like that again."  Tears had welled up in her eyes, but there was something more interesting about the blue hues of her irises.  They almost seemed to glow, as if fueled by the anger, sadness and frustration she felt, but it was even more than that.  Her pupils were no longer rounded orbs, instead they had shifted in shape to the distinct slit of a reptile.  No other changes were perceptible, but that was clear the sun at noonday.<br/><br/>"If I die, my line dies with me.  If you slip and go too rough, it's over.  The man that killed my father and all the people I cared about, wins.  I do not take this lightly, but I will not have it be over before it even started."  She pulled against her arm and tried to shake herself free, but his grip was sturdy.  "Let go of me, Ylrid.  Now."