Esmaris was going to kill me. That bastard. A fire lit within me. As I heard the whoosh of Esmaris raising his arm over his head, I flipped myself over, ignoring the agony that ignited as my back touched the ground. “If you want to murder me,” I spat, “you’re going to look me in the eye as you do it.” Esmaris’s arm was above his head, the whip slicing the air behind him, a cruel wrinkle of disdain over his nose. My blood flecked his shirt, melting into the burgundy brocade. Something barely visible wavered in his face. His eyes lowered from mine. “Look at me!” I didn’t make it this far just to
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TELL HIM.
