Élisa fixed her gaze on the man before her. His assured smile was so infuriating she felt an almost irresistible urge to smash her fist into his face, to silence him once and for all. But she restrained herself. This man, insolent as he was, was her superior—the very leader of the squad to which she'd been assigned.
"An offer, you say?…" she replied slowly, almost contemptuously. "And why? No. First, I want to know… how did you discover that my companions and I bear stigmas?"
Zirel tilted his head back slightly, as though amused by her caution. His eyes gleamed with a brightness too sharp to be honest.
"Well, as I told you, I belong to the guild of the Windflower," he said, with a touch of theatricality. "I was taken in by a clan that was part of it. My entire childhood I grew up among stigma-bearers. So… let's just say I developed a certain sensitivity."
He paused, leaning forward slightly to seize her gaze.
