V I V I A N A
“Thalia, was it?” I ask as I walk a few steps ahead of her, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor as we move through yet another corridor that looks nothing like home, and I'm not yet sure if that's a good or bad thing.
“That’s right,” she answers easily, her voice calm and unbothered, like she isn’t escorting an unwilling fiancée through enemy territory.
I lift my chin slightly and face forward, letting my gaze roam over the high ceilings, the art lining the walls, the subtle but very intentional placement of guards at each corner, every detail filing itself away in my mind, whether I want it to or not.
“How long have you been working for Dante?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral and conversational, as if this is nothing more than polite curiosity.
She doesn’
