What about Aunt Khora? Is she alright? Marish wondered. He didn’t ask it aloud. The only one who would give him an honest answer was Itana, and she was not in control of herself right now.
Sekheret produced a long, thin knife from a sheath up his sleeve.
Marish heard a sharp intake of breath from Itana. Apparently, she recognized the weapon, and not in a good way. For his part, he didn’t see any cause for excitement about the weapon itself—it would get the job done quickly, and probably painlessly, if Itana didn’t fumble it.
But to die at her hands...that part is going to hurt, Marish admitted to himself.
“Could I ask you a favor?” Marish said to Sekheret.
“You can always ask,” Sekheret said. “And maybe if you grovel hard enough, beg hard enough, and the request is not too inconvenien
