Zyren moved to stand directly in front of her, the blade in his hands gleaming menacingly beneath the glow of the hanging lamps that lined the marble-pillared hall. The steel caught the light like liquid silver, polished and cold—unforgiving.
Aria's eyes fixed on him, refusing to waver even as his towering frame loomed above her. He stared down at her without blinking, his gaze sharp, invasive—like a predator enjoying the moment before the kill.
But it was his next words that shattered the fragile stillness in her mind.
"Little flame…" he began, his voice almost soft, but dripping with venom. "Do you know who could have done such a thing?"
Aria's breath caught.
