@VSPKDH04 And stepped closer, voice light but laced with confidence. ❝ If I get caught, Zemislav, I won’t beg or run. I’ll smile, curtsy, and convince them I belonged there all along. ❞
@VSPKDH04 Fanning out different cloths like cards in a well-played hand. ❝ Now, let’s find your fabric soul, shall we? ❞ With one brow arched, a dare curling on her lips. ❝ Silk for charm? Velvet for mystery? Or are you secretly all leather and tragic poetry once the candles go out? ❞
@VSPKDH04 Finally, a slow smile unfurled. ❝ Very well, Zemislav. I accept. Just don’t expect me to be swayed by sobbing nobles and their ruined vanity. If I’m to be impressed, the secrets better wear diamonds. ❞
@VSPKDH04 ❝ I want names. The noble kind—the sort who visit you in secret and leave pretending they believe in nothing. ❞ Her smirk curled into something undeniably sly. ❝ Bring me gossip wrapped in velvet, and maybe I’ll be tempted to knock a coin or two off your total. ❞
@VSPKDH04 ❝ Is this just an excuse to stare at me while I work? ❞ The barest hint of a smirk playing at her lips. ❝ How about a trade, instead? Supposed you got something worthwhile. ❞
@VSPKDH04 ❝ Saints preserve me, Zemislav, must you always be this distracting? ❞ Trying and failing not to smile, groaning that couldn’t hide the glint in her eyes. ❝ You have my full attention, so go on, do you want a sonnet in your honor? ❞
Rumors would spread before sunrise, speculation winding through the city like thread through a loom. Some would call it a simple illness, others something far more sinister. Whatever truth lay beneath the spectacle, Anais knew one thing—Castamere would not stay silent about it.