✿ Embers of Deceit ✿
"A Whispered Knot"
> There are lies that bloom like roses—soft, red, alive,
Their thorns conceal the hand that tugs the string.
Where petals fall, the footprints of the guilty thrive;
Where silence keeps its watch, the coldest secrets cling.
A promise splits beneath the moon's thin eye,
And every shadow learns to wear a face.
The proud will fashion crowns from other men's sighs,
While truth, like embers, waits to scorch the place.
✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧
"Don't tell me you didn't hear about the accident at Ilizue," Derek demanded, voice sharp as he leaned forward across Clinton's gilded table.
Clinton folded his fingers, slow and calm as silk. "When did it happen?" he asked, as if the timing were a trivial thing.
Derek's impatience flickered. "Some days ago. Horace Donovan—he nearly tore the city apart."
