Ishara averted her eyes, staring down at her chained hands, her lips trembling slightly. "Valerian... Valerian is not a man who plays with cheap illusions. And he's not known for grand lies," she muttered, the confidence in her voice crumbling into a hollow, melancholy rasp. "He is a man of iron and iron laws. He does not waste breath on idle fairy tales."
"Exactly," Sylas whispered, his smile lingering inches from her face. "Which is why his lie becomes absolute truth the moment he speaks it before his people. And it is indeed a proven fact that the lady's curse has been broken. She walks. She bleeds. She breathes without pain."
Ishara faced downward, her dark shoulders sinking as an overwhelming weight settled over her. A profound look of melancholy washed over her features, her hands curling tightly into the cold links of her chains.
