A disgusted growl emerged from her throat when the "food" came out, and her hands gripped the edge of her chair in a death grip. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat, and the hot saliva which often signaled the imminent and oncoming arrival of her previous meals.
The man next to her tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear, grimy fingers smelling of urine and unwashed male flesh. Tugging at the woven tip of her ear, he attempted what she believed he thought was a whisper, but which was easily audible to the entire table. "Odd ears you got, perhaps you want some good 'uns. That'll win me get a chance t' see that hot little box o' yours, eh?" He looked pointedly down at her lap, before grabbing a ladle in the pot and fishing about. He plopped some of the stew into her bowl, and well enough, there was an ear floating about in the mix.
When she didn't move to eat it, his voice grew a touch louder. "What? You don't like the food? I worked so hard to pick out your favorite part." Kieta continued to ignore him, looking straight ahead, though the muscles in her jaw twitched in agitation. He speared the ear with a fork and pried her hand open, forcing the fork into her hand. "Eat it."
She gave no indication of her next move. Feeling a fresh breeze enter the room, she stood swiftly, kicked her chair back, and savagely plunged the fork deep into the man's trachea. Before he had a moment to react, because stabbing a man's trachea wouldn't kill him, she extended her hand to the source of fresh air. Manipulating the air, she used it to suck all of the breath out of the man's lungs. She stood, panting, hand gripping the knife set out for her, shoulders squared and ready to fight.
But none of the other men were moving. They all looked to The Bull, who sat at the head of the table, a small, curious smile on her lips. The room was silent, all for Kieta's panting and the gurgling of the dying man, dying with an ear-skewered fork in his neck. The Bull broke the silence, laughing, clapping her hands madly, and while Kieta remained stiff and alert, the Bull continued to laugh. This continued for what felt like forever, before the Bull wiped tears away from her eyes, and slammed her goblet raucously onto the table. "THIS! This is why I wanted this one, boys! A right little killer, she is! Those wild fae types!" She waved her finger wildly at Kieta. "Look! I think she'd tear any of your throats out with her teeth! The savage little bitch!" She chuckled again, "Now sit. You don't like the food, you don't have to eat." Kieta remained standing, frozen.
The Bull became suddenly serious, voice dropping. "You and I both know I can drop you like a fly with that collar, should I feel like it. Now." She gestured to Kieta's seat. "Sit."
Slowly, Kieta returned to her seat, sitting even more on edge than before, the knife still gripped tightly in her fist. That was right... The Bull could have killed her with the poison from the collar. Could have, but didn't. Which meant that, at least for the moment, they had moved beyond threat of death. It also meant that The Bull was even crazier than she had suspected. She had literally just killed one of her men, and it had merely amused the woman.
They were in even hotter water than she had imagined.