Caldus's throat worked as the seal began to stir. I watched it rather than him. It was ugly work, a lock built to turn fear into a weapon, one that didn't care whether its bearer wanted to speak, only whether the truth tried to cross a line it wasn't allowed to cross. I'd dealt with enough oaths in my life to recognize real cruelty when I saw it. A vow carried weight because someone chose it freely.
This wasn't a vow. It was a trap wearing something sacred as a disguise.
"How long have you carried that seal?" I asked.
Caldus blinked, the question seeming to confuse him. "Since the rite."
"What rite?"
His lips parted, the seal pulsed, and Abi raised one hand. Violet light curled across the table and settled over Caldus's throat like a thin veil, and the black marks flared once before stopping. Caldus gasped.
