“I hear you thinking over there,” said the stranger, a grin behind his words. “What do you suppose you’ll do? What schemes are unfolding in your head? I hate to do it, I really do, Your Majesty, but… I haven’t a choice in the matter.” “Who sent you?” Elma said, now certain that this man was an assassin, and loquacious to a fault. With luck, he might talk. “That’s a boring one,” said the stranger, shifting again in the darkness. She caught a glint of moonlight on steel and knew he’d shifted that way on purpose. “Who do you think sent me, Queen of Frost?”
