Neemry’s question hung in the air of the grand Gabriel foyer, a finely-honed blade that had finally found its mark. It cleaved through the carefully constructed façade of Elara Vance’s benevolence, leaving a fissure of stunned silence in its wake.

Elara’s perfectly composed face underwent a subtle, seismic shift. The sympathetic warmth in her eyes iced over, replaced by a flicker of calculation so swift it might have been imagined, were it not for the sudden rigidity in her shoulders. ...