The heavy, suffocating silence inside Silver's private quarters felt thick and icy. Silver sat sprawled lazily upon his velvet armchair, one long leg draped casually over the carved armrest. He twirled a slender silver dagger between his fingers—a mesmerizing, blinding blur of steel—while his piercing blue eyes fixed on Cecilia with a terrifying, predatory amusement.
"Allow me to remain here with you," Cecilia repeated, her hands tightly folded beneath her velvet mantle to conceal their trembling.
Silver let out a low, dark chuckle, tilting his head with maddening, theatrical nonchalance. "Now, why in the seven hells would I grant sanctuary to my dear betrothed... in my own private quarters?" He brought the flat of his blade to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with sharp malice. "Unless, of course, you've brought me a gift exquisitely entertaining enough to purchase my hospitality."
