The carriage moved.
I sat in the back, my legs spread, my head tilted against the cushioned wall, and I smiled the way a man smiles when he has done something terrible and gotten away with it. The merchant's estate receded through the rear window — the stone walls, the broken gate, the dark stain on the cobblestones where goblin blood had pooled and dried. The house where a father had lived and died and where his daughters had been devoured. Not by monsters. By me.
My eyes slipped downward.
