"So tell me, where is that man of yours?" Wendy purred, the words sliding out like a knife as she licked her lips, tongue flicking over her teeth in a slow, predatory motion. "He must be somewhere in this castle, yes? Yet— despite knowing you're in danger— he's nowhere to be seen. Strange. He doesn't strike me as the sort to hang back just because you asked him to."
Arabella said nothing. The blackness between them only thickened, and Wendy's curiosity sharpened into amusement. She could sense movement— an awareness of Arabella's presence shifting like a shadow— but with a shattered ankle and a knee still slick with blood, the motion should have been impossible.
Logic bent and snapped in Wendy's mind. What was this foolish girl attempting? What clever little trick was she playing now?
