The fire had burned low, only embers now, bleeding orange into the silence Arabella left behind. Vivian stood too long, maybe much too long, just staring, her mind chewing on words she couldn’t shake. The last warmth we share tonight.
It didn’t quite sound like a threat. Not exactly, anyway. It sounded more like… like a warning she hadn’t wanted.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Wren muttered, dragging her cloak tighter, almost strangling herself in it. “You heard it too.”
Vivian’s jaw tightened. “I heard her. But I don’t know if I should fear what she meant—or pity her for saying it.”
“Pity?” Wren let out something between a laugh and a cough. “You pity a dog, maybe. Not her. She’s playing both sides and she’s—good at it. Too good.”
Before Vivian could reply, the chamber door slammed so
