In four short hours, Chrystal had been jeered at, mocked, attacked in a one-on-one fight, and had been made to sit on the forest floor, with nothing more than the sky as her chamber cover.
That whirling sound in her head turned into a deafening roar.
Her left hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger Castian had given to her.
Darius was still speaking, his gaze on the only threat he had measured. “You’ve caused quite the mess,” Darius continued caustically, his attention on Castian.
“Running off with a traitor. Do you have any idea what this means?” he droned, speaking to Chrystal, but facing the fighter.
Doing that thing he did often to those lesser than himself. That thing Chrystal had witnessed many times but had dismissed. Had filed under words like ‘power,’ ‘rule,’ and ‘authority
