Chalice.
"Why did you start the fire, wench?!" The guard whose mouth smelled of booze and decay spat in my face, his features a mixture of ugliness and filth as he stared straight into my eyes— so deep that I wondered if he could see into my soul.
His hands fastened around the whip in his hands and he raised it over his head. But hell, I didn't flinch. For the life of me, I could swear that I didn't even notice him.
Why?
Because I knew that he could never hit me with it. That he was afraid that I still possessed a bit of power around here— estranged Luna or not.
This thought was what fueled me to shake my head and smile at him, revelling in the way his nostrils flared and retracted.
He was mad. That I was sure of. And his anger was what I intended to use against him.
"My cell was cold," I spat, "…I needed a little heat."
