Soon after my mind returned to Vetra.
Her frost slowly melted from the windows in rivulets that caught what little moonlight penetrated the clouds.
She was becoming desperate.
That realization settled into my bones with the kind of certainty that came from years of studying her methods, learning to recognize when her careful control was slipping. The Vetra who'd raised me would never have confronted me so directly, would never have shown her hand this clearly.
Which meant she felt cornered. And cornered predators were always the most dangerous.
Taking her out directly would be simplest. One command, a handful of loyal guards, and the problem would be solved permanently. I could win that confrontation... brutally, decisively, with enough force that no one would dare question the outcome.
But it would also make me exactly what I'd sworn never to become.
Soreth.
