“Guards!” Veronica calls, her voice shrill.
At once, a set of guards rush down the hallway toward us, their rifles in their hands. One has a sword tied to his belt. Another, a whip.
Veronica continues to glare at me, even as a smug smile curves her lips. Pointing straight at me, she commands, “This slave has offended me. I demand retribution. Take her out and torture her for this insolence.”
Her arrogance makes her laugh – until she realizes that the guards aren’t making any moves against me.
I’m still holding Caleb’s coffee. Glancing down at it, I say, “King Caleb ordered this from me. I should deliver it.”
Veronica smacks the mug straight out of my hand. It smashes into the wall, and then drips down to the ground. That’s the second mug today. I silently apologize to whoever has to
