The hidden courtyard was quiet except for the faint rustle of wind against the carved stone columns.
The man before Lysera was still kneeling, bound and gagged, his wrists tied behind him with rope that bit into his skin.
Even in the dim torchlight, she could see the sweat trickling down his neck.
She had dragged him outside, far from the sleeping quarters where Kana and Irielle rested.
The moon hung low, its pale light cutting through the darkness, glinting faintly against the steel of the dagger she idly twirled in her fingers.
Lysera's voice was calm—too calm.
"Let's make this simple. Who sent you? And what are you doing here?"
The man shifted uncomfortably, his breathing uneven. She could almost smell the panic rolling off him, though he tried to disguise it with a smirk.
"Even if you send me to prison. I'll be out before long. My sponsor will save me."
He said with forced bravado.
Lysera tilted her head, watching him like a predator might watch a wounded animal.
