The next thing Blaise heard over the phone was Lyra's laughter. It rang in his ear, sharp and fragile. It was like a glass threatening to break. It wasn't the sound of joy and Blaise could tell. It was anger and pain hiding under a mask of pretense. It made the hair on his skin stand.
"Your wife?" she asked again. This time slowly, dragging out each word like she wanted him to bleed from it. Then, all of a sudden, the laughter stopped. Her voice dropped, low and heavy. "Since when did your wife matter this much to you?"
Blaise frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Her breaths shuddered, trembling against her lips. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what you said to me"
"Lyra-"
"Don't you dare Lyra me!" Her voice cracked as she shouted into the phone. All she felt was anger; anger breaking into pain. "Tell me, are you playing with me?"
His chest tightened. "What?"
