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My magic shifted to the color of my fleeting moods.
It takes a scoundrel to know one.
But I’d never excelled at resisting temptation. Especially when it came to showing a man what I was capable of.
Maybe I do want to start something tonight.
“I’m only a quarter Bonespeaker, love,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine before they flickered, taking in the rest of me. “I assure you I have plenty of other tricks, but you better get going. It’s almost Reaping Hour. You never know when one of the spirits might drag you into the Soullands for good.”
“I’m the Daemon King’s son, Sersa, love. Come with me willingly, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you straight to the citadel.”
“I neither brought you here to frighten you nor to hurt you. I do, however, wish to speak to you about something.”
“Giant. Monster. Do you have any other endearing names for me?” He nudged the teacup closer toward me. “I don’t want your gods-damned poisoned tea, I said.” “You have a real mouth on you, you know that?” “You have no idea.” “No. But I am enjoying the learning process.”
