Laughter erupts among the council. Part of me wants to hate them. Another part, a part I do not recognize, unfolds under Lunetta's touch and gives in. How can I want someone in the middle of this strange, public, almost violent ritual? I pull against the chains.
Her mouth a breath away from between my legs, she pulls back and smiles, small, intimate, wicked, like someone who has read a private page. “There’s something there,” she murmurs, smoky and low. “I’m sure of it.”
Her fingers unclasp the cloak from around her neck, fabric swirls in the air then lands over my skin, covering my body from the hot, all-consuming gazes of the others. In one fluid motion, she unlocks the shackles. I am free, but more exposed than ever. I sit up, rubbing my wrists; my skin feels raw where the metal bit.
