The sun-tanned door creaked against the weight of his body pressed against it. Trayan reveled in the sight of Mar Denan’s nervous sweat popping out from his forehead; Mar’s eyes bulged as Trayan’s hand found purchase around his throat.
“Didn’t want to die in a desert, did you?” Trayan crooned, her voice low and sulfurous. “Didn’t want to die at all, I imagine. Too much trust in your little talent.”
Mar stared into her eyes, gurgling incoherent nonsense through a compressed throat. The summer sun burned down on them, their shadows pooling around their feet on the crackec clay steps. Trayan leaned in, not bothering to mitigate the pressure of her hand. Tessi filled her thoughts, the little girl from a week ago. The girl who was gone, now.