After nearly half a day inside the velvet-draped chill of the luxury carriage, Greta finally began to feel something like comfort, strange, considering how far she was from Ehrenwald.
Across from her, Matthias sat with his usual elegance, one perfectly arched brow lifting as he studied her. Greta hadn't looked away from him once, not since he started talking.
"If I asked," she said, voice low but steady, "would you actually tell me everything I want to know, Your Grace?"
Matthias gave a lazy shrug. "Who's to say? If I felt like it, I'd answer you straight. No riddles. No games."
Games. That was the first thing Greta had learned about Matthias Von Ignaz the moment she sold her soul for revenge, against Dietrich Maximillian and his oh-so-virtuous wife, Inggrid Anneliese.
