Pretension

Anastasia gulped in panic and her hand went to her medallion as she thought about Ileus. She wondered that if she pulled it out of her neck, would it again blast her elsewhere. With eyes she waited for the queen to say more. It was better to stay quiet.

Og'drath continued. "My servants are going to paint tattoos on you, which will make you darker. That way you will blend better amongst us."

"I am not a spy…" Anastasia said. "I don't even remember who I am or where I've come from." 

Og'drath threw her head back and laughed. "You see Natsya, I don't care whether you remember or not. What I care about is the reason I've called you here." 

She was dumbfounded at Og'drath's blunt admission of purpose. "And what is the intention?" her voice a mere whisper.