POV: Kesley

Nora was waiting for me in the corridor. She had pulled herself back together in the thirty seconds between the office door closing and me stepping out into the hallway, the way she always did, that particular snap-back into composure that I used to admire before I understood what it actually was.

“You must think you are important, don’t you?

You think bedding the Ghost Lord makes you untouchable, huh?” she asks, her voice full of hate. All I saw is her deceitful facade that comes from years of performing fine when nothing was fine, a skill I recognised because I had developed the same one, living in...