The hall had gone the kind of quiet that happened when everyone present collectively decided that breathing too loudly was a risk they were not willing to take.
Torran was still standing. Still pointing. Still wearing that smirk that had the specific quality of a man who had never once in his life been made to feel the full consequence of his own mouth.
Elara looked at the finger first. Then at the face behind it.
"Backbone," she repeated, tilting her head slightly. "That is interesting coming from a man who needed twelve kingdoms behind him before he felt confident enough to open his mouth at a dinner table."
Someone at the far end of the room made a sound that was quickly swallowed.
Torran's smirk did not move but something behind his eyes did.
"You think this is a game?" he asked.
"I think you came here tonight with a script," she said pleasantly. "And I think I went off it and now you do not know what page you are on."
