“Do you trust me, my beauty?” Isidor asked her, watching the knife, flicking another.
“Yes.”
Isidor put the knife on another button, pausing. He let the blade trail to her breast, touching her n****e over the dress with the knife, just the tip, carefully. His eyes flashed to her face.
Winter sucked in his breath, realizing what Isidor wanted. Winter had thought about it before, fantasized about it. A knife was one of the most important things a Siblin owned, an extension of his body. It was an all-around tool, yes, and besides some Siblin who used the bow, it was also their only weapon.
He and Isidor had known how to handle a knife by the time they were ten, learned to fight with it shortly after, both of them having scars to show for it, and they never stopped handling one. He didn’t
