Sighing angrily, Abir Olaya got down from her carriage helped by her servants, looking outside that square at all the bodies piled up, of all those citizens and guards who had fought on the spot. And looking at all the blood on the ground being spilled, she could only think angrily of that precious red liquid, which was being wasted by being poured on the ground like that, preventing it from being drunk or used in any ritual.
—A waste of resources —Abir whispered, looking at everything angrily.
But not wanting to be bothered any further, knowing that this was inevitable, Abir continued on her way, lifting the skirt of her long black dress slightly to prevent the fabric from reaching the blood and dirt on the ground, walking through the sun to the church. Stifling a groan of pain, Abir hu
