Nico
Slowly, I stepped out of the line and pulled down the mask I wore, letting it slide past my nose and mouth before hooking it loosely under my chin, allowing him to see my face fully.
The air between us shifted.
I was amused.
"The king? Who exactly is this that you serve?" I asked him, my voice calm, almost too calm for the situation we stood in, not surprised when his eyes widened and recognized me.
Recognition always came the same way.
First disbelief.
Then fear.
His hands began shaking almost immediately, not violently but enough to betray him, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides as he struggled to get a hold of himself. His jaw tightened, unclenched, then tightened again as though he was physically forcing the panic back down.
For a moment, the struggle was there—to lie or to be honest.
And I so desperately wanted him to lie.
There was something far more satisfying about forcing the truth out of someone than having it handed over so easily.
