"In this world, Grezans are prized as exotic captives, on display in households of the wealthy.
And the cruel.
Tulano was saved by his Master, saved from a life of arena fighting, slavery, or worse. He's trained to be a warrior now, acting as bodyguard to his benefactor. But when his Master has to court his constituents, how far will Tulano have to go appease his Master and the wealthy who fund his campaigns?"
Tulano’s striped hand passed over the scene, trickling blue sand. In his painting, the zycroatan tore from the river, its muscular tail propelling onto the bank, its scaly hide filthy with muck. Huge jaws glistened as it snapped at the two Grezan boys. One threw a spear at the water monster, the carved wood piercing through froth and waves. Tulano ran one finger absently over a broken horn and gazed down at his artwork. Primal memory for Tulano: the sand painting covered most of his patio area. The colors were astonishing even in the moonlight: vivid turquoise for the water, a dense cocoa shade layered with light gray that lent dimension to the reptile’s armored skin, a rich gold of sunlight that matched Tulano’s eyes. Green, red, and yellow sand smeared Tulano’s brown and golden skin. I
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