"Nor will I forget you, Lord Evocatore," she said, her voice soft but edged with an unmistakable sharpness. "We will meet again soon enough."
The words hung in the air, like a thread pulled taut between them, and for a moment, Lyan wondered if the room itself had frozen. The air felt thick, and despite the coolness of the stone walls, he could feel the heat of her gaze like a brand on his skin. What did she mean by that? What game was she playing?
His mind raced, but Lyan kept his composure. He had dealt with far more dangerous people than Anastasia, but there was something about her that unsettled him—something that made him pause, made him question the ease with which he had navigated this world before.
