Aquí tienes una traducción fiel al inglés, manteniendo el tono, estilo y crudeza del original:
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"They're going to kill you!" A voice whispered in his ear, making him shudder.
Cedrid brushed the air around him with irritation and nodded. "I know."
No one had to tell him — he wasn't an idiot.
He could see, feel, and sense the tension hanging in the mansion's atmosphere.
He was already fourteen and nearing the time for his ritual. Cedrid had made his preparations in case the worst were to happen.
And what was the worst-case scenario?
Being too talented.
Cedrid let out an ironic smile at the thought that if he turned out to be talented, his life would be at risk.
He was the fourth son of Count Flebergh. He had no right to inheritance — not even close. But if he turned out to be talented in the art of Harmony, there was no doubt that his older brother and his stepmother would try to kill him.
The only way to survive was to be completely mediocre — or worse.
