The figure turned the metal over in his calloused fingers, the rough edges of Malachi's counterfeit key catching the thin starlight. He was waiting for someone.
Dry twigs snapped near the footpath, followed by the soft rustle of skirts against dead brush. The man went rigid, dipping low with one hand sliding to his belt, but he abandoned the stance the moment a familiar silhouette stepped past the crumbling pillars.
Liora walked into the center of the ruin like she owned the soil beneath it. There was no sweet smile on her face now, no wide-eyed innocence, no gentle tilt of the head designed to make boys trip over their own boots to carry her bags. Her posture was straight as an iron poker, her features drawn into something cold and thoroughly venomous.
The man dropped down onto one knee against the gravel. "My lady."
Liora stopped two paces away, staring down at him with pure disgust. "Corvus. Stand up before you make me sicker than I already am."
