Circe's breath caught as the words settled deep into her bones. Her gaze snapped back to Dena, who had delivered the order as casually as if she were sending her on a mundane task.
She gulped nervously, grateful that Dena had her back turned and could not see the uncertainty that flickered across her face. Her fingers curled instinctively at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she fought the urge to retreat.
"I asked you to teach me how to defend myself with my powers," Circe said, her voice tight, "not how to murder with them."
Her gaze strayed back to the hare despite herself. The small creature sat helplessly atop the stone platform, its sides rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Sickness churned violently in Circe's gut at the sight of it, worse now that she knew exactly what Dena expected of her.
