My heart began to race wildly as the man approached. Instinctively, I pressed my back against the cabinet, glancing at him uncertainly. His face was hard to make out in the darkness; his arms were clasped behind his back in that familiar, rigid posture as he strode toward me, finally stopping a few meters away. Then, without a word, he turned and walked across the room to the fireplace, busying himself with the kindling. When the first tongues of flame flickered to life, he straightened and looked back at me.
"Come here," he said sharply.
My legs refused to obey. It was as if they had stopped working entirely—I couldn't move, only stand there and stare at his distant silhouette.
"I see no one ever taught you obedience," he growled irritably. "Then I suppose I'll have to do it myself."
