The cat-mask came back, different face beneath it now —narrower eyes, tighter jaw. It struck for Mia's head; Thea took the blow on a plate and let it slide to be what it wanted: loud. Her old woman second flicked a pinch of talc up into the mask's mouth. The assassin did not cough. He did not breathe. He pivoted, blind, and stabbed exactly where Mia would have been if Mia had not already moved. Seven stars do not wait to see if a trick worked. They assume it did and keep going. That is why they stay alive.
They still bled.
