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Luck was something Goleeta had always had in abundance. When her family was murdered, she alone survived. When her people were scattered and slain, she alone remained.

During that last Gurza raid, hidden beneath a wooden trap door buried under a thin layer of sand, she had been sure her luck had finally run out. With such flimsy protection, it seemed certain that this time the Gurzas would find her. This time she would be captured and dragged before Tormack to face the punishment for her failure to submit.

She'd been wrong.

When she climbed out of that basement, spoiling for a fight and determined to die before allowing herself to be taken, she found not a band of Gurza dogs but a man called Galtar.

Galtar, who had made her a wary ally and then, slowly but surely, a friend... and had been showing her ever since just how lucky she really was. He shared her courage, her determination, and her desire to see Tormack dethroned and order returned to the land.

He cared for her, protected her, and made her feel strong. He made her feel like a princess again, even when nothing remained of her kingdom but a wasteland and a dream. A dream of peace and justice. A dream of vengeance: of Dindal restored. A dream that had once been an impossibility but now seemed more like a maybe.

As Thork galloped across the desert, Goleeta held a little tighter to Galtar and smiled. Maybe it wasn't too much to hope that she should live to see the day when she might take her rightful place on the throne.

After all, she'd always been lucky.