The mask fell out of Anna’s hand, landing on the red carpet. Before her, a broken man knelt with his head hanging. She knew what she would see when he looked up, but she still couldn’t believe it.
A handsome man with a goatee, Shindraso wore his short, brown hair parted in the middle. She had seen his face a hundred times, and each time, she had mistaken him for an insignificant bureaucrat, a minor functionary who carried out his boss’s orders.
“Matao Zaranthel,” she mumbled.
“Hello, Anna.”
The Prime Council’s chief of staff was actually a terrorist with a corrupted Nassai. How many times had she exchanged awkward small talk with this monster? Hadn’t he wished her good luck right before she left for Salus? Had he known then that he would travel to that world and try to kill her?
Her m
