Freda Pov
The metal was cold against my skin. Silas was shaking, and I could feel the vibration of his hand through the hilt of the knife. He had me pinned against the pantry wall, and the smell of old dust and spilled flour was thick in the air. I kept my chin up because if I lowered it, the edge would bite into my throat. Across the small room, Urdon stood like a statue. He had dropped his blade, and his hands were open at his sides.
"Don't move, Urdon," Silas said. He pulled my hair back harder, and I had to stand on my toes to keep my balance.
"I am not moving, Silas," Urdon said. His voice was very flat and very quiet.
"You think you're still the boss," Silas said. He let out a short, wet laugh. "You think you can just tell me to leave and I'll go. Viktor told me you'd try to talk your way out of it. He said you were weak."
"Viktor isn't here, Silas," I said. I tried to keep my throat steady while I talked.
"Shut up, Freda," Silas said.
