“The sting marks were solely located in this one spot,” Portia said, a ring appearing around the blistered red sting marks on Radcliff’s chest. “And some biologists claim the norian wasp stings erratically, that it wouldn’t sting in a localised place repeatedly unless it was held in place by magic, or perhaps a jar-” “Preposterous,” I blurted, waving a hand at her as heat flared within my limbs. What the fuck was this? Was she accusing me of something? This was meant to be my night of celebration, how dare she bring my brother’s death into it?
