Assallya almost had everything.  She'd been so close.  She'd been trusted confidant, advisor, seer, and occasional lover for the greatest man alive.  True, King Baelnorn was not a great man but he was a great king.  She was about to be married off to an esteemed lord or duke close to the throne (likely one that wouldn't mind sharing her should the king desire was her assumption) where she would have vast power and wealth, expansive lands and attentive servants.

In all this the emphasis being on "was".  Now she was next to nothing.  Dorian did not value her skills and why should he?  Most of the tools of her trade lay trampled in the tents when they were overrun.  None of the King's lieutenants saw the value in having someone able to scry ahead, or soothe the lines and eliminate fear while bracing for a charge.  A war was man's work and the work of soldiers and not saucy tarts with potions and pans of water.  Indeed, he seemed resentful her very presence seeing her as disruptive to his men's discipline and consuming supplies better suited to keeping his men strong.  Many regarded her only as an opportunity for one last desperate tumble before they were cut down by Vyshaan's minions.  She would have deserted but, though a mûl, she had not the slightest inkling of how to survive in the woods. 

When one of Dorian's goons came about, gathering the expendable and the unwanted, Assallya was not surprised to be addressed and counted amongst them.  She was also unsurprised at the string of crude epithets concerning her status as a mongrel bastard and a wanton whore.  With a sigh she rose and made her way towards the assembling group lest Dorian get it into his head to solve his problems by accusing her of desertion and hanging her from a nearby tree.  When a man had lost like Dorian had they often took great relish in the small petty victories so Assallya was not going to give him the chance.