“The dinner is because Narkissa thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know our guest better,” Cassian replies.
An unpleasant weight presses on my chest when I hear him say her name and watch how she looks at him with infatuated eyes and silly fluttering lashes. Her sharp, red-painted nails rest on Cassian’s forearm as she strokes it seductively. He does nothing to stop her.
“I don’t know what you want to know about me—I thought my reputation preceded me,” Nymera says while cutting her steak into small pieces.
“I’m curious why you became a witch.”
“Well, I’m curious how a random Halfblood ended up regularly riding that one over there.” She points at Cassian with her fork. “But unlike you, I don’t ask indiscreet questions.”
I gape at the Blood Wraith, who wears a triumphant,
