“Let go of me.” He didn’t. He reached his other hand to my shroud instead. “Please, Diviner, all I need is a sign—” And then he was thrown backward, falling with an ungracious thud onto the floor of his stall. I felt a presence at my back—saw an armored arm. When I turned, my shoulder hit a breastplate. Two eyes, unfathomably dark, combed my face. Gods.
Yessss my fav dont touch her trope
