Creon’s scarred eyebrow twitched up ever so slightly. Not an attack. If anything, it looked like an invitation. I could swear even the walls were holding their breaths around us. ‘First of all,’ Tared said, and he spoke the words with such visible effort that I wondered if he’d spent half the night rehearsing them to himself, ‘I owe you some overdue apologies.’ Creon’s expression didn’t change.
