The sound of her voice echoed through the courtyard like the brush of an icy blade against the back of his neck.
Damon's eyes widened and he whirled around, his spear in hand instinctively raised in guard.
Behind him, standing in the shadow of one of the courtyard's columns, was Ester.
Her crimson eyes were half-lidded, watching him with the unwavering air of someone who had already judged and condemned before even hearing explanations. The woman's cold beauty made his heart race, but not with desire—it was the same sensation as standing before a superior beast, staring him down only to decide whether or not he was worth crushing.
"Esther…" he began, his voice breaking slightly, still breathless.
But there was no time for words.
She took a few steps forward, her gaze roaming the spear in his hands, the cracks in the ground, the sweat on his skin. A soft sigh escaped her, heavy with disapproval.
