Rona is determined to destroy the evil emperor, but must learn that evil can only be destroyed by the power of love.
“Tell me about your father,” he demanded with a mouth full of food.
Rona looked at him. He was studying her seriously with his dark, blue eyes. She wished that he would not have asked her anything. She didn’t want to talk to him. Yet, with the fear of making him angry, she quickly answered him.
“His name was Hallen Ulandis,” she explained, “he was a soldier in your army, so he wasn’t home much. When he did come home, it was only for a few days. He would tell me stories of all the places he saw-”
“I am finished, slave,” the emperor interrupted.
Rona watched as the woman quickly made her way to the emperor and carefully cleaned his dirty plates from the table. They were all empty, not even a crumb was left behind. He drank the rest of his wine from one of the golden grails as the woman worked. After she retrieved the dirty grail she left. Rona wished she could follow her.
“I will send someone to give you a bath and clean clothes,” he said. “I will return momentarily. You are confined to this room until I return.”
The emperor stared at her silently. He slammed his fist upon the table and Rona jumped with a start.
“You will learn manners while you are in my presence,” he said furiously. “I expect you to agree to my terms by saying yes, Master.”
“Yes, Master,” Rona said fearfully.
The emperor ran his right hand over his face as he leaned back with a sigh. He glared at her for a few minutes longer before he finally stood up and left the chambers.
He was in a better mood when he returned. The slave girl that was sent to give Rona a bath and another clean gown was as fearful and silent as the rest. No matter how she tried she could not get them to speak back to her. She supposed they were commanded not to, for some reason, so after a while remained in silence during their presence. The gown she wore was blue and it fit perfectly just as the last one had. This one had a higher neck line. Rona was thankful for that. The emperor smiled when he saw her. She didn’t smile back, but watched him fearfully as he disappeared into the archway. When he came out he had no shirt on. The whole upper part of his muscular body was covered in various types of tatoos. He halted as he studied her, then his grin dissipated.
Ouch! Poor Rona! There’s something about the way you write that reminds me of my writing style, leaving aside the profanity (although my fifteen-year-old protagonist would’ve thrown the anonymous emperor through his own bookcase long before then, especially in defense of a pretty young lady!). Could it be that we both have some issues to work through in our psyches, and that writing fantasy is how we deal with them? 
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