Holt

out of the m

nastic, but it was mine. It was quiet. It

root, the rhythmic motion of the pestle

pen, slamming a

s eyes swept over my workbench, the neat rows o

said. "These little potions won't win wars, A

t they balance the ledgers that pay for your w

darkened. He crossed the

xpression softened into one of condescending pity. He thought th

e that of a man placating a difficult child. "I had them r

continuing to g

. To be ignored by a Dragonless, by his own

bbed m

my arm. The mortar slipped from my ot

he was a beast. "How long will you keep this up? Do you think shaming

body was a cage of muscle and heat. The stench of wine and h

e growled, his voice a low threa

head, his mou

e him. He clamped a hand on my jaw

d, his golden eyes burnin

of my fear and humiliation, a st

eading was useless. It would

still. I met his burning gaze with e

pressure on my jaw lessened slightly

n, his lips just

I sp

t was not a scream. It was a

yn P

g in the air betwe

nul our m