I looked at Rosalia, cold and unblinking, and let my voice drop lower.
"Senior Sister. Everyone who has ever laid a hand on me is dead. My husband is the only exception."
Rosalia's brow furrowed. She spat, "Nara, have you lost your mind?"
"You've never even been betrothed. Where did this 'husband' come from?"
"That's enough. Apologize now and stop this lunatic act!"
But before the last word left her lips, Rosalia crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. The bones in all four of her limbs snapped at once, twisting her arms and legs at grotesque angles.
The soldiers flanking the corridor stiffened. Not one of them moved. The sound of it — four wet, percussive cracks in rapid succession — hung in the marble hallway like an echo that refused to die.
She stared up at me in horror. "Nara, what kind of trick is this?"
"Let me go! You're crippling a made woman in front of the Boss himself. Do you have a death wish?!"
I didn't spare her another glance. My grip tightened on Elara's wrist, and my voice stayed flat. "Are you going to pull the Original Oaths out yourself and hand them over, or do you need me to do it for you?"