Ninety Nine

 Amber had done exactly as Tunde had said she would—she'd tried extremely hard to become close friends with Tasha. But when that hadn't worked, she had instead taken to trying to provoke Sansa with sugar-coated insults and backhanded compliments that had been so cleverly delivered they sounded totally innocent to most people. Tala, however, knew exactly what Amber was doing. Whereas

 Tasha's response to Amber had been to act sickly sweet rather than snap—which would have made her seem unnecessarily bitchy and hostile toward Amber —Tala was much too direct to cope with her shit. And now the bitch had done what she knew would piss Tala the hell off: She'd touched her mate.

 Amber threw her hands up in the air. "All I did was touch him with my fingertip—I was trying to heal the cut on his hand!"

 Tala sniggered. "Well thanks, E.T., but I can heal him myself! Touch him again, and—"