I slowly stood up, brushing the dust from my clothes. My eyes never left his. “She insulted my mother,” I said through clenched teeth. “Do you really think I’d stand there and stay silent? And you...” I exhaled, trying to keep control of the storm inside me. “You never told me the full story of what happened to her. All you ever said was that the healers failed. That’s it?”
His face faltered for a heartbeat—his eyes wide, just briefly, before he schooled his expression into something colder, more distant. “We already talked about this, Natasha. Her injuries were too severe. The healers did all they could, but it wasn’t enough to save her.”
He was lying. I could sense it in the subtle shift of his scent, in the faint skip of his heartbeat. But now wasn’t the time to expose him. No, I needed to plan carefully—vengeance wasn’t something to waste in a burst of emotion.