"Fear is a sharper weapon than any blade, especially when wielded with laughter."
The corridors of the kindgom still reeked of fear when I slipped out into the colder night air. Fear clings. It clung to Seraphine's silence, to Selene's clenched jaw, to Thalia's twitching fingers, to Maelis's steady-but-not-steady eyes. Even Torvik, that swaggering brute of a commander, looked like he wanted to crawl back into whatever shadow spat him out.
And gods, how I loved it. I was still laughing under my breath when I made my way through the eastern halls, heading toward the manor's guest wing. Guards passed me with sidelong glances, but no one dared stop me, and you did not bar the path of a Seer, not unless you want to know how many days you have left to regret it.
