Voren Ashkael was not Corvine, and he certainly was not one of her gentle adopted parents who allowed her clever traps to unfold without crushing them before they could bloom.
Even before the game began, Seraphine already understood that the odds were not leaning in her favor, and the thin, satisfied smile curling along Ravyn's lips only sharpened that realization until it felt like a blade pressing quietly against her pride.
The sight of that smile stirred something inside her that burned hotter than reason, because she wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face and replace it with the stunned disbelief of someone watching their certainty crumble right in front of them.
Voren's voice drifted across the room from where he sat on the couch, calm and smooth in a way that made the words sound almost courteous even though the meaning behind them carried an unmistakable weight.
