Lorraine's voice rang out, steady and unwavering, each word slicing through the damp silence of the dungeon. Hadrian regarded her with the detached condescension of a teacher correcting a misguided pupil.
"You're hypocritical if you say you wouldn't do the same, if someone's presence threatened the empire you've built beneath the city," he said, his tone laced with cold certainty. "House Arvand is bigger than one woman and her cursed daughter."
Lorraine scoffed, the sound bitter, dismissive. "You were wrong about me in the past, and you're wrong about me now," she said, her voice thick with disdain. "Nothing… and I mean nothing. There is nothing I wouldn't lose for my husband."
She spread her hands, sweeping them outward, her gaze encompassing the ancient stone walls, the flickering torchlight casting elongated shadows. "This empire…" she continued, her voice low and deliberate, "it is dust compared to those who are loyal to me."
