"How did Velthrone find out about the disappearance of those witches?" Varric demanded, crushing the report in his hands until the paper hissed and folded beneath his fingers.
He was seething. Anger curled through his body in hard, visible waves, jaw clenching, knuckles whitening on the parchment.
"Those disappearances were supposed to be the first strike of my plan," he spat, voice tight with fury. "I meant to pin the whole affair on those despicable vampires and watch the uproar. Before I could even light the match, Velthrone turns up a hero, saves them and ruins everything."
Garran, who had been standing just inside the door, swallowed audibly and shifted from foot to foot. He knew the prime minister's temper; it could shred men.
