She will not snap, she tells herself. Will not give in to his taunts. Clenches her teeth and fists, imagines both of them sinking into her brother in blood’s flesh.
”I understand, fleeing your duty and betraying your order are all traits of a hero then.”
There’s something at the tip of her tongue, something she knows is sure will make him loose his smugness. But it’s wrong she realizes, even in her fury. Something he would do, not her.
”More power than a mage?” A sardonic smile adorns her face, voice dipping low. “That wasn’t what you were thinking all those times when you under my spell, screaming like a bitch.”
More power than a mage. She can set his blood on fire, sap his lifeforce whenever she wants to with a single wave of hand and he thinks himself more important than her. She could have killed him a hundred times by now, that arrogant douche.
”Because obviously a man whose only friend is himself would be an expert.”
"I lack friends out of my own choice.“
A lie, to ignore the truth he doesn’t dare face. Once upon a time, Balfour Cousland had been quite the popular young man, though his personality had still been lacking a fair deal. His family more than made up for it, thoughhis family lifted such a darkened soul. They were good for him, and now they’re all gone. The only light Balfour has in his life anymore seems to come from a select few companions, and he can see that even they begin to tire of the dark cloud that lingers perpetually over the youngest Cousland’s head.
He is young, but he lacks the energy to act it. To act as he should.
A shame, quite honestly.
"And I will tell you who the bitch is here, Amell. 'Tis not the prince, I assure you."
