Hearing his proposal, Dasha burst into laughter. It wasn't light or mocking it was loud, piercing, splitting through the eerie silence of the night. To her, it sounded like the most absurd thing she had ever heard; it tore the air like a cracked bell and left ringing questions in its wake.
Veythor's face turned blank, expressionless, unreadable. He didn't move, didn't flinch. He simply stared at her, the crimson in his eyes steady, waiting for her laughter to burn out as if it were a small, predictable flare. The bonfire threw loose sparks and the night drank them down. Around them, the embers sighed and the trees listened.
"Don't like the offer?" he finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, deliberate too soft for the danger beneath it.
