"I never said you talk too much," Kian began, arms folded loosely as he leaned against the cold stone wall, one leg resting over the other. "I simply said you tend to talk too much when you're mad."
Isabella froze mid-step. Her slipper scuffed against the dusty floor as she whipped her head around to face him. "Oh, thank you for the correction, Lord Shadow and Silence. What a generous, precise observation."
She gestured dramatically at the empty room with both arms as if she were hosting a tour of the Palace of Emotional Injustice. "And what exactly about this entire situation should make me feel calm and composed, hmm? Your sister is practically at death's door, my emotions are on a seesaw, my chest's been tight since I saw Shelia like that—I can't breathe properly, I swear, and don't even get me started on—Glimora!"
Kian blinked. "What about her?"
