"I have no desire to speak to a madman like you," Ishara said, deliberately turning her face away from Sylas, as though even acknowledging him was beneath her.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Sylas laughed.
It wasn't restrained. It wasn't elegant. It tore from his chest in sharp, unfiltered bursts, echoing violently through the underground chamber. He laughed until his shoulders shook, until he had to brace a hand against the cold stone wall to keep himself upright..
"A madman?" he echoed between breaths, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh, Ishara… you truly have no sense of irony."
He straightened slowly, composure snapping back into place with frightening speed. His pale eyes gleamed as he studied her, as though she were an interesting puzzle rather than a threat.
"If I am mad," he continued mildly, "then I would very much like to know what that makes you."
