Evriana's composure cracked the moment the hall doors shut behind them.
Her hand was locked around Viktor's wrist, her fingers white-knuckled, dragging him through the entrance corridor with the desperate urgency of a woman smuggling contraband. The guards stationed along the passage straightened at her approach. She signaled without breaking stride. A sharp flick of her wrist. Two fingers raised, then a downward cut.
Leave.
The guards obeyed. Boots echoed on marble, retreating, fading, gone.
The hallway emptied. The noise of the humiliated hall behind them faded to a muffled murmur. Evriana stopped. Released his wrist. Turned.
Her brown eyes were fire.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. The words came through clenched teeth, each syllable bitten off and spat like venom. "Do you know what you have done? You just— you simply—"
