All three of them were at en empasse.
The girl froze, her mouth open in a silent 'O' of terror, the sound trapped in her throat. Below him, Merelao didn't struggle. He didn't plead. He just watched Marcus with those cold, blue eyes, waiting for the assassin to make his next mistake.
Gone was the initial confusion of a man woken from his respite with a dagger at his throat, now all that was present in them was a clarity of intent.
With the third presence in the room, Marcus was put in an awkward situation.He had after all a plan, now that one had gone off the cliff and whose corpses was being railed as he breathed, which meant that he had to do the next thing he hated most. Improvise.
He felt the sweat slicking his grip.
