Torin
A shadow fell over me. Yvara appeared above me, looking down with that same predatory smile.
"You aren't a very smart person, are you, Torin?" she asked. "How the hell did you get close to the King? Did you just flatter him until he got tired of listening to you?"
She sighed and came low. She grabbed me by the collar of my velvet doublet, her fingers twisting in the expensive fabric. She pulled me up effortlessly until I was sitting, my back against the wooden partition. She didn't even break a sweat.
"I already told you what Irina did," Yvara said, her voice dropping to a low, lethal hum. "Around here, black magic is strictly prohibited. Especially the kind of strong, filthy witchcraft your Queen was using."
She laughed, a short, sharp sound.
"If anyone—even a child in this keep—found out there was a witch among us, she would be killed before she could draw her next breath," Yvara said. "We don't tolerate that rot in the North."
She leaned in closer, her face inches from mine. I could smell the leather and the cold iron on her.
"And I know you're not supposed to care what happens to her," Yvara whispered. "Because here you are, literally saving your own skin, abandoning your Luna while she’s trapped in the dark. That is a disgraceful act, even for a Southerner."
She gripped my hair and yanked my head back. "I want to kill you, Torin. Truly. You are a coward, and nothing makes my skin crawl quite like a man who won't stand his ground. I want to skin you while you're still alive and feed the rest of you to the pigs. They like a different taste occasionally."
I felt a trickle of warm urine hit my thigh. I couldn't help it. I was a dead man.
Yvara shook her head, looking disappointed. "Unfortunately, I can't do that. I don't have that order. Yet."
She stood up with a heavy sigh, letting go of my hair. "So, this is what we are going to do."
I watched her, my breath coming in short, panicked hitches.
"I’ve come across a lot of dark magic in my time," Yvara said, pacing the small space of the stall. "And if there is anything they all have in common, it's that there is always a physical manifest. A binder. A spell like the one Irina used doesn't just hang in the air. It needs a tether to keep that guard's face from sliding off his skull."
I stared at her, genuinely confused. "I... I didn't even know she was a witch until ten minutes ago. It's bizarre. It's insane. Aldric... Aldric certainly isn't aware of this. Was he?"
Yvara ignored my question. She turned and looked at me, her eyes tracking the movement of my hands.
"You are very close to Irina," Yvara noted. She paused, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Close enough to have been fucking her royal pussy for months. I can smell you both on the sheets from the hallway."

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