Holt
out of the m
nastic, but it was mine. It was quiet. It
root, the rhythmic motion of the pestle
pen, slamming a
s eyes swept over my workbench, the neat rows o
said. "These little potions won't win wars, A
t they balance the ledgers that pay for your w
darkened. He crossed the
xpression softened into one of condescending pity. He thought th
e that of a man placating a difficult child. "I had them r
continuing to g
. To be ignored by a Dragonless, by his own
bbed m
my arm. The mortar slipped from my ot
he was a beast. "How long will you keep this up? Do you think shaming
body was a cage of muscle and heat. The stench of wine and h
e growled, his voice a low threa
head, his mou
e him. He clamped a hand on my jaw
d, his golden eyes burnin
of my fear and humiliation, a st
eading was useless. It would
still. I met his burning gaze with e
pressure on my jaw lessened slightly
n, his lips just
I sp
t was not a scream. It was a
yn P
g in the air betwe
nul our m
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