The gold of her irises went to sharp, narrow slits—the look of a woman staring at a locked door she knows has something infuriating on the other side, deciding whether to pick the lock or kick it down.
Neither, apparently.
"...Fine." A beat, and then her chin lifted. Clean pivot. "Then what about Ytrisia?"
He blinked.
"Why did you bring her here?"
No edge in the question. Just crisp, clean curiosity—the surgical kind, the kind Lira used when she actually wanted information and wasn't going to be distracted from getting it. Her hands had settled on his chest, casual as anything, fingers resting over the slow drum of his heartbeat.
He exhaled. Long. Steady.
