"Are you truly a goblin?"
My brow furrowed at once, the muscles pulling tight across my forehead. I stared at her, trying to decide whether she was mocking me or if her words carried some deeper suspicion.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended, but edged with a sharpness that betrayed how unsettled I felt.
Her lips curved faintly, not into a smile exactly, but into something that carried a trace of wry amusement, as though she knew she'd struck a nerve and was gauging how I'd respond. She repeated herself, but twisted the blade in a way that made the air between us suddenly heavier.
"Are you truly human?"
This time my brow knitted even tighter, the confusion clawing deeper into me.
The way she asked it — calm, deliberate, and with no hint of jest — didn't sound like a careless remark or some wild guess.
No, it carried the weight of certainty.
