¬ Hiln
I watched him writhe, and I felt nothing but cold satisfaction.
"I am not doing anything. This is all you."
He glared at me. "You lie!"
I glared back. Even if I was lying, it wasn't like he deserved any honesty from me. The connection between us pulsed with every beat of my heart, and with each pulse, I pushed my fury into it. My hatred. My grief.
He deserved this.
He deserved worse.
Fashire collapsed fully, both knees hitting the floor, then his palms as he caught himself before his face could follow. His whole body shuddered.
"Stop," he gasped. "Hiln—"
"Stop?" I crouched down to his level, watching the sweat bead on his forehead, and the tendons in his neck strain as he fought to keep his head raised. "You wanted me dead. You announced it to the entire court. You gave them permission to tear me apart, and when they—when they nearly—" I shot back to my feet and covered my face, trying to control myself.
