“Aren’t you?” she asked. No part of her moved, not her mouth or her hands at her sides, but a strangled sound bubbled up Octavian’s throat in response. His hands flew to his throat, nails digging in on either side as he dropped to his knees. I watched in horror as his face turned red. “What’s that? Witch got your tongue?” Imelda stared down at him, turning her head to the side and leaning forward as if she would be able to understand the babbles coming from him.
lmfaoooo
