Senna pressed the tip of the dagger down, just enough to leave a small, white indentation on the skin. She could do it. One quick, slashing motion.
And then, she laughed. A cold, dismissive sound.
THUNK.
She plunged the dagger, with sudden, violent force, into the silken mattress, the blade sinking deep into the fabric just an inch from Marissa's face. The vibration of it, the sudden, sharp sound, made the maid flinch.
Senna pulled the dagger free and gave it back to her maid, Esme, who stood waiting.
"No," Senna said, a new, colder, and far more terrible smile spreading across her lips. "Just destroying your face would be too boring. It's too fast. And," she added, her voice full of a new, sharp, practical cunning, "it might earn you his pity. And pity... pity is a stronger bond than desire."
