Page 43 of Bound to the Dreadlord

I should be looking at the bodies.

I should be considering who sent them.

I should be focusing on the threat.

Instead, I focus only on her.

On the way her hands tremble—not from fear of the assassins.

From herself.

From what she just did.

I tilt my chin.

"Do it again," I murmur.

The words slither into the space between us, something unspoken curling deep beneath them.

Her throat tightens.

"No."

A refusal.

Interesting.

I take another step.

The assassin—the one still trembling, still locked beneath her invisible chains—whimpers again.

I ignore him, stepping over his body.

Sera is still watching me.

Wide-eyed.

Conflicted.

A creature standing at the precipice of an abyss, staring into something she cannot name.

I finally understand the feeling of wanting to solve something that isn’t handed on a silver platter to you.

I exhale, slow and deliberate.

"Your voice did that," I murmur, gesturing lazily toward the assassin still shaking at my feet.

She swallows.

Says nothing.

I take another step.

She stiffens.

She is still too close to the wreckage, to the blood soaking into the floor, to the bodies surrounding us.

She should be looking at them.

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