Larentia bristled as Beartooth referred to the brownish daughter as a runt. The child was anything but. She thought, Muninn and Huginn sound like male names, before she shifted to get out of Beartooth's shadow. 

"Shall I send in the man who could be set up as Nadia's future husband to get a good, up close and personal visit with her traitor w h o r e mother? And just a quick little food for thought . . . He likes the taste of blood and flesh." Beartooth's cackle, nor this pronouncement, fazed Larentia. "Maybe, I'll let Ares in with him. The boy could learn, and we all know you're experienced enough." Larentia ignored this jab, rising to her feet, careful not to disturb the sleeping children. 

Do it, then, she said softly, in a slightly menacing voice. Aren't you the king? In truth, Larentia wasn't scared of being f u c k e d. Not anymore. She had had her fill of fear. She'd seen how Beartooth's philosophies worked. They had cost her everything, and in the process, forged a femme whose heart was slowly becoming as cold and snowy as her pelt, her cunning mind working through dozens of theoretical dilemmas a day just to keep itself busy, her mind telling her heart it should feel for her new daughters, but her heart was slowly sealing itself to them.