“Yes.”
“Before you came here?”
“The moment you woke.”
Her gaze drifts briefly to the shattered window.
“Someone threw a stone.”
“I know.”
The quiet certainty in my voice draws her attention back immediately.
“You know?”
“I found him.”
Something sharp passes through her expression.
“What do you mean you found him?”
“I mean,” I reply calmly, “that the man responsible will not be throwing stones again.”
Her breath catches.
“Threxian…”
I do not apologize.
“I warned them.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just burn people alive.”
“He frightened you.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“It is to me.”
Silence stretches between us. Her eyes search mine, conflict shifting behind them as she tries to reconcile the demon before her with the man who just held her steady through panic.
“You can’t solve everything with fire,” she says finally.
“No.”
The admission surprises her.
“But tonight,” I continue quietly, “it was appropriate.”
She exhales slowly, clearly deciding that argument will accomplish nothing. Then she studies me again.
“You look different.”
I glance briefly toward the faint reflection in the shattered glass scattered across the floor.
The infernal form has manifested fully without conscious decision. My wings stretch slightly against the small space of the cottage, black flame curling along the edges of their vast span.
“Happens when I am angry.”
