โ Scribed by Cronshaw, Jon
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
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Kat sunk her head into her hands, tiredness spreading along her flesh as the safe house's air ducts hissed and wheezed around her, echoing the ebb and flow of her strained thoughts--the knowledge that she had made the correct decision followed by doubt and regret. She glanced up at Scram with one eye open, trying not to sneer at his disapproving stare.
Shuddering, she examined her hands, flexing her fingers. Why did she feel so guilty? She refused to kill because killing was always wrong.
Scram's lip curled and he pulled down on his beard.
Part of her wanted to launch herself across the table and slam his head down. How dare he judge her like this? The rest of her felt like the time she had once stolen a silver conch shell badge when a dignitary from the Southern Isles left his housecoat resting on a chair in the palace's long hall. She could picture her father sitting at the other side of an oak desk, tracing the reliefs of cups and swords as his disapproving gaze bore down on her. They sat in silent tension as her father weighed up her punishment.
She narrowed her eyes at Scram. "What?"
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