I swallowed, keeping my words in my chest so they wouldn’t flood my head and become angry spells, but they slithered and snapped, and I stood, unable to trust myself to contain them. The king’s advisors shot to their feet, parchment and scrolls falling to the floor. I acknowledged them, just a stiff jerk of my head, and moved swiftly toward the door. “Lark,” Tiras called after me. I ignored him.