Evangeline's gaze turned to cold steel, cutting through Chester's jagged laughter like a physical blow. "They won't expect anything," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying, flat tone. "Because by the time they realize I am there, their tongues will already be nailed to their floorboards."
She raised a languid hand, a dismissive flick of her wrist that seemed to broom the very air of their presence. "Enough. I require rest. Begone."
Without a sound, the two jesters melted into the shadows, leaving her to the suffocating silence of the grand bedchamber. Evangeline sank into the silk sheets, but there was no relaxation in her frame; her body remained taut, a bowstring pulled to its breaking point. Staring up at the dark, heavy canopy of her bed, she raised her hand toward the ceiling, her fingers clawing at the empty air, twisting as if they were closing around a phantom throat.
