[She hadn't felt such emotion before; for her it was either fear or anger, never both. She felt sick, like she wanted to shake herself or him, and without realizing it she could feel wet streaks along her face.

Even his voice doesn't steady her, however she can't bring herself to throw anything at him anymore. Instead she grabs onto a chair to steady herself.] I don't know. I don't pretend to know the will of the gods.

[Who was she to figure them out. Right now, she felt less like the daughter of warriors and more like the scared, angry little girl she was.] But I know that you can't give a false gift, and expect the person to thank you for it. Why should it be different for the gods?