"Speaking of which, Lady Frost," Emma said lightly, though there was nothing light in her eyes as her gaze slid toward her, "I truly didn't expect you to side with the Faceless Imposter."
Emma Voss hated criminals.
That much was well known.
And a noble openly associating with demons—no, entangled with them—was, in her eyes, a stain that couldn't be scrubbed clean.
That disdain was written plainly across her face as she looked at Amelia.
—Zap.
Like a baton being passed mid-relay, that sharp, judging glare shifted.
Straight to me.
A silent accusation.
No—more like a protest.
What were you thinking, bringing her here?
I felt it clearly.
"Ha-ha," I laughed, clapping my hands once to break the tension. "Miss Amelia, your gaze is frighteningly sharp. Aren't we comrades here? Can't we at least try on a slightly friendlier expression?"
"Of course not!" Amelia snapped instantly, spinning toward Emma and jabbing a finger in her direction.
