The evening air in Oakhaven carried the scent of pine resin and the distant, rhythmic clanging of the Dwarven forges but for Evelina, the atmosphere felt suffocating. As she walked back toward the stone manor that served as their temporary headquarters, her mind was a chaotic storm of blueprints and irritation.
She wasn't sure why she had behaved like that. Why had she snapped at him? Why had she allowed her to slip so spectacularly in front of the Dwarfs and the newcomers? It wasn't her intention to argue with Lucius. In her past life as assassin, she was a creature of cold logic and surgical precision. Emotions were variables to be controlled, not fires that consumed the senses.
